newyorker--2020-02-06--Inside Acronym, the Tech Consultancy Behind the Disastrous Iowa-Caucus App

In downtown Washington , D.C. , in a gleaming new WeWork building that ’ s still mostly uninhabited , one office suite is occupied by a nonprofit called Acronym , a left-leaning digital consultancy whose mission is to build “ modern infrastructure for a new progressive movement.
” To translate for anyone who doesn ’ t speak startup lingo , “ infrastructure ” essentially means code .
( In 2014 , when Mark Zuckerberg decided that “ Move fast and break things ” was too on the nose , he amended Facebook ’ s motto to “ Move fast with @ @ @ @ @ @ @ , I visited Acronym ’ s office , which is slick and hypermodern , decorated with succulents , cheeky Pop art , and a digital clock counting down to Election Day .
Tara McGowan , Acronym ’ s thirty-four-year-old founder and C.E.O.
, held a large bottle of kombucha and wore an exhausted expression .
In 2012 , McGowan worked for Barack Obama ’ s reëlection campaign , producing digital content ; in 2016 , she was the digital director of Priorities U.S.A. , a super PAC affiliated with Hillary Clinton .
“ @ @ @ @ @ @ @ an old model that values traditional media over new media , personal relationships over data , oligopoly over meritocracy , ” she said .
“ If we are going to find more voters where they are—online , on their phones—then we ’ ll have to be more risk-tolerant , and , if you ’ ll pardon the word , more disruptive.
” McGowan ’ s disruption has taken many forms , some public-facing and others more clandestine .
Publicly , she has vowed to blanket the Internet , especially Facebook and Google , @ @ @ @ @ @ @ a Democratic nominee has been chosen , but now .
( One such ad , which just ran on Facebook : a photo of Donald Trump and Mitch McConnell emblazoned with the words “ END THIS BROMANCE.
” ) Acronym regularly puts out a newsletter , a podcast , and a plethora of social-media feeds , all functioning as the equivalent of the emergency-siren emoji .
“ The general election has been happening for months , arguably years , online , ” she told me .
“ The problem is that only one @ @ @ @ @ @ @ it ’ s not our team.
” More quietly , she has founded or invested in several spinoff organizations .
Legally speaking , these are separate entities ; in practice , they ’ re all closely intertwined .
One is a political-action committee , cunningly named Pacronym , through which McGowan raises money from such donors as Steven Spielberg and Mike Moritz , a venture capitalist in Silicon Valley .
( She says that she plans to raise seventy-five million dollars this election cycle , of which she has already landed fifty-one million @ @ @ @ @ @ @ Strategy , a for-profit digital consultancy ; a voter-registration drive called People ’ s Power Grab ; and Courier Newsroom , which Bloomberg called “ a liberal , digital spin on local news.
” A year ago , McGowan tweeted that Acronym was “ launching Shadow , a new tech company to build smarter infrastructure for campaigns.
” Two months ago , the Iowa Democratic Party hired Shadow to build an app for the state ’ s upcoming caucus ; instead of calling in to report results by phone , as they ’ @ @ @ @ @ @ @ would report results through the app , which was supposed to make the process more efficient .
Instead , on Monday night , the app broke down in spectacular fashion , turning what should have been a news cycle about various candidates ’ contrasting visions into a muddle of confusion and speculation .
On Tuesday , as outrage mounted , McGowan tried to distance herself from Shadow .
In a tweet , she called it “ an independent company Acronym invested in ” and claimed that there were other investors as well .
@ @ @ @ @ @ @ said on her podcast that Acronym was Shadow ’ s “ sole investor.
” Even now , Acronym ’ s Web site features a prominent link to Shadow , which has described its mission as “ working to build political power for the progressive movement by building accessible , user-centered technology products and infrastructure.
” ( Acronym declined to comment , and McGowan did not respond to my requests . )
The people who responded to McGowan ’ s tweet were not reassured .
“ Shady stuff , ” one of them wrote @ @ @ @ @ @ @ .
It surely didn ’ t help that Shadow ’ s name explicitly invokes darkness , where Batman villains thrive and democracy dies .
( One can only presume that Mustache-Twirling Globalists , L.L.C.
, was already taken . )
Nor has it escaped the notice of McGowan ’ s critics that she has tweeted dismissively about Bernie Sanders ( “ bernie is not the answer ” ) and rapturously about Pete Buttigieg ( “ 😍 ” ) .
In McGowan ’ s mentions , a few people posted a screenshot of a @ @ @ @ @ @ @ , Shadow was paid some forty-two thousand dollars by the Buttigieg campaign—a campaign that also employs Greta Carnes , one of McGowan ’ s former employees , and Michael Halle , McGowan ’ s husband .
For the record , the full conspiracy theory goes like this : with Sanders surging in the Iowa polls , the Democratic Party , or cronies thereof , contracted with an unaccountable , nefariously named company to fix the election , either by stealing it outright or by muddying the waters .
To be clear , there @ @ @ @ @ @ @ was altered in any way—each caucus site preserves its paper ballots , which are now in the process of being counted—and , although the muddying-the-waters hypothesis is harder to disprove , the simplest explanation , as usual , is incompetence , not coördinated treachery .
Still , it is possible that the confusion on Monday night hurt Sanders ’ s campaign , intentionally or not .
( It seems to have helped Biden ’ s campaign , by distracting attention from his disappointing finish . )
We will soon find out if Sanders @ @ @ @ @ @ @ vote ; if he did , and if that fact had been reported cleanly , Sanders might have claimed at least a symbolic victory , which could have led to an influx of donations .
Instead , Buttigieg took advantage of the information vacuum , delivering what amounted to an Obamaesque victory speech .
As of this writing , with the final result still unknown , the lead article on Slate is headlined “ How Pete Won.
” I find it hard to believe that Shadow would intentionally botch such a high-visibility project @ @ @ @ @ @ @ employees ’ reputations in the process .
But the appearance of impropriety is all that ’ s needed , especially on the Internet , for many people to take refuge in the shadows of distrust ; and widespread trust in the basic mechanisms of our democracy , insofar as this trust still exists , is one of the few forces holding the country together .
In the past , McGowan ’ s critics have accused her of employing underhanded tactics , or of being “ no better than ” her most dastardly political @ @ @ @ @ @ @ t tend to hold up .
Courier Newsroom , to take one example , is a partisan media company , but it isn ’ t fake news .
McGowan doesn ’ t seem reckless or sinister enough to intentionally rig an election .
Rather , she seems like a starry-eyed techno-utopian , prone to believing that a wide array of societal ills can be cured by another innovation , another round of investment , or another app .

In downtown Washington, D.C., in a gleaming new WeWork building that’s still mostly uninhabited, one office suite is occupied by a nonprofit called Acronym, a left-leaning digital consultancy whose mission is to build “modern infrastructure for a new progressive movement.” To translate for anyone who doesn’t speak startup lingo, “infrastructure” essentially means code. (In 2014, when Mark Zuckerberg decided that “Move fast and break things” was too on the nose, he amended Facebook’s motto to “Move fast with stable infrastructure.”) Three weeks ago, I visited Acronym’s office, which is slick and hypermodern, decorated with succulents, cheeky Pop art, and a digital clock counting down to Election Day. Tara McGowan, Acronym’s thirty-four-year-old founder and C.E.O., held a large bottle of kombucha and wore an exhausted expression. In 2012, McGowan worked for Barack Obama’s reëlection campaign, producing digital content; in 2016, she was the digital director of Priorities U.S.A., a super PAC affiliated with Hillary Clinton. “Many big Democratic organizations are beholden to an old model that values traditional media over new media, personal relationships over data, oligopoly over meritocracy,” she said. “If we are going to find more voters where they are—online, on their phones—then we’ll have to be more risk-tolerant, and, if you’ll pardon the word, more disruptive.”
McGowan’s disruption has taken many forms, some public-facing and others more clandestine. Publicly, she has vowed to blanket the Internet, especially Facebook and Google, with anti-Trump ads—not this summer, after a Democratic nominee has been chosen, but now. (One such ad, which just ran on Facebook: a photo of Donald Trump and Mitch McConnell emblazoned with the words “END THIS BROMANCE.”) Acronym regularly puts out a newsletter, a podcast, and a plethora of social-media feeds, all functioning as the equivalent of the emergency-siren emoji. “The general election has been happening for months, arguably years, online,” she told me. “The problem is that only one team is on the field, and it’s not our team.”
More quietly, she has founded or invested in several spinoff organizations. Legally speaking, these are separate entities; in practice, they’re all closely intertwined. One is a political-action committee, cunningly named Pacronym, through which McGowan raises money from such donors as Steven Spielberg and Mike Moritz, a venture capitalist in Silicon Valley. (She says that she plans to raise seventy-five million dollars this election cycle, of which she has already landed fifty-one million.) Other Acronym spinoffs include Lockwood Strategy, a for-profit digital consultancy; a voter-registration drive called People’s Power Grab; and Courier Newsroom, which Bloomberg called “a liberal, digital spin on local news.” A year ago, McGowan tweeted that Acronym was “launching Shadow, a new tech company to build smarter infrastructure for campaigns.” Two months ago, the Iowa Democratic Party hired Shadow to build an app for the state’s upcoming caucus; instead of calling in to report results by phone, as they’d done for decades, precinct captains would report results through the app, which was supposed to make the process more efficient. Instead, on Monday night, the app broke down in spectacular fashion, turning what should have been a news cycle about various candidates’ contrasting visions into a muddle of confusion and speculation.
On Tuesday, as outrage mounted, McGowan tried to distance herself from Shadow. In a tweet, she called it “an independent company Acronym invested in” and claimed that there were other investors as well. And yet, last week, McGowan said on her podcast that Acronym was Shadow’s “sole investor.” Even now, Acronym’s Web site features a prominent link to Shadow, which has described its mission as “working to build political power for the progressive movement by building accessible, user-centered technology products and infrastructure.” (Acronym declined to comment, and McGowan did not respond to my requests.)
The people who responded to McGowan’s tweet were not reassured. “Shady stuff,” one of them wrote. “Rigged!” another wrote. It surely didn’t help that Shadow’s name explicitly invokes darkness, where Batman villains thrive and democracy dies. (One can only presume that Mustache-Twirling Globalists, L.L.C., was already taken.) Nor has it escaped the notice of McGowan’s critics that she has tweeted dismissively about Bernie Sanders (“bernie is not the answer”) and rapturously about Pete Buttigieg (“😍”). In McGowan’s mentions, a few people posted a screenshot of a financial-disclosure form showing that, last July, Shadow was paid some forty-two thousand dollars by the Buttigieg campaign—a campaign that also employs Greta Carnes, one of McGowan’s former employees, and Michael Halle, McGowan’s husband.
Highlights from President Trump’s State of the Union address.
For the record, the full conspiracy theory goes like this: with Sanders surging in the Iowa polls, the Democratic Party, or cronies thereof, contracted with an unaccountable, nefariously named company to fix the election, either by stealing it outright or by muddying the waters. To be clear, there is no evidence that the vote tally was altered in any way—each caucus site preserves its paper ballots, which are now in the process of being counted—and, although the muddying-the-waters hypothesis is harder to disprove, the simplest explanation, as usual, is incompetence, not coördinated treachery. Still, it is possible that the confusion on Monday night hurt Sanders’s campaign, intentionally or not. (It seems to have helped Biden’s campaign, by distracting attention from his disappointing finish.) We will soon find out if Sanders won the first alignment of the caucus vote; if he did, and if that fact had been reported cleanly, Sanders might have claimed at least a symbolic victory, which could have led to an influx of donations. Instead, Buttigieg took advantage of the information vacuum, delivering what amounted to an Obamaesque victory speech. As of this writing, with the final result still unknown, the lead article on Slate is headlined “How Pete Won.”
I find it hard to believe that Shadow would intentionally botch such a high-visibility project, perhaps permanently damaging several of its employees’ reputations in the process. But the appearance of impropriety is all that’s needed, especially on the Internet, for many people to take refuge in the shadows of distrust; and widespread trust in the basic mechanisms of our democracy, insofar as this trust still exists, is one of the few forces holding the country together. In the past, McGowan’s critics have accused her of employing underhanded tactics, or of being “no better than” her most dastardly political opponents, but the equivalence doesn’t tend to hold up. Courier Newsroom, to take one example, is a partisan media company, but it isn’t fake news. McGowan doesn’t seem reckless or sinister enough to intentionally rig an election. Rather, she seems like a starry-eyed techno-utopian, prone to believing that a wide array of societal ills can be cured by another innovation, another round of investment, or another app.
My visit to Acronym coincided with a Democratic debate—as it happened, the final debate before the Iowa caucus. McGowan and several of her employees—some from Acronym, some from Lockwood Strategy—were heading to a Tex-Mex bar to watch, and I tagged along. On my way out of the office, I noticed, leaning against a wall, a large grid featuring headshots of the Democratic Presidential candidates. Graffiti had been added to the grid periodically, in red marker: an “X” through the headshot of any candidate who had dropped out; the word “MATH” above Andrew Yang; a crown on Elizabeth Warren’s head; dollar signs floating around Michael Bloomberg. Buttigieg’s photo was surrounded by hearts. The photo of Sanders was unadorned. When I asked McGowan who her preferred candidate was, she responded, “I am one thousand per cent committed to making sure that the Democratic nominee, whoever she or he may be, becomes the next President of the United States.”
At the bar, McGowan watched the debate for a while, live tweeting from her personal account. Then she stood to order a drink and struck up a conversation with two strangers. Within a few seconds, she was showing off her forearm, where she had a tattoo of Obama’s slogan, “Yes, we can.” (Obama himself had written the words on her arm, and McGowan had had them permanently preserved.) Returning to the table, she told me, “We can be purists all we want. We can sit on the sidelines and do things the old way all we want. But the new political battlefield is Snapchat filters. It’s GIFs. It’s memes. If we want to win, we will engage in that battle.” This is true: in an age of binary political outcomes and unrestrained information warfare, unilateral disarmament is tantamount to surrender. And yet it’s also true that no one who goes into battle is likely to emerge unscathed.


newyorker--2020-02-06--The Welcome Optimism of “Star Trek: Picard”

On a planet in the far reaches of space , Jean-Luc Picard , the storied captain of the Starship Enterprise , ran into a being who said she was the devil .
She could make people disappear in a flash of energy .
The ground shook at her command .
Picard was skeptical .
In all of his voyages , he had never encountered absolute evil .
The universe ’ s creatures—humanoids , tiny robots , assemblages of light—were all capable of change , or at least of revelation .
Surely , there must be a way to find the @ @ @ @ @ @ @ otherwise a way to unmask her .
In recent years , Picard ’ s optimistic spirit has been hard to conjure , not just in the world but on TV .
The success of shows such as “ Breaking Bad ” and “ Veep ” proved that audiences could be interested in morally bankrupt people without seeking their redemption .
But , in the landscape of gritty realism that has surfaced in the decade since , a once daring aesthetic gesture has lost its edge .
The audience , fatigued by the powerful @ @ @ @ @ @ @ , finds it harder to sit transfixed by rudderless immorality at night .
That may be why the “ Star Trek ” creator Gene Roddenberry ’ s twentieth-century idealism is on the rise again , wafting up from shows such as Michael Schur ’ s philosophical sitcom “ The Good Place ” and Seth MacFarlane ’ s “ The Orville , ” a Trekkie-approved homage to “ Star Trek : The Next Generation.
” In the original “ Next Generation , ” Patrick Stewart plays Picard , the commander of a starship on @ @ @ @ @ @ @ crew whose altruism he can take as granted .
The show was one part Margaret Mead among the Samoans and one part undergraduate ethics course , and it derived its tensions not from the battle scenes or from the protagonist ’ s tragic flaws but , rather , from moral and logical quandaries that tugged the audience from scene to scene : If a ship arrives through a time rift from a historic battle that saved the lives of billions , do you send it back to finish the skirmish , even though @ @ @ @ @ @ @ Most dilemmas were resolved quietly .
A laser gun ( shaped like an electric shaver ) might go off once an episode .
Suspense would build as Picard , stern and sometimes shouty , slowly arrived at a way to respect all forms of intelligent life , no matter the circumstances .
As for the earth-shaking devil , Picard defeats her not with choreographed kung fu on a high precipice but with due process in a courtroom , revealing her to be a con artist exploiting the latest in seismic technology .
Stewart @ @ @ @ @ @ @ “ Star Trek : The Next Generation , ” and of his close identification with the character , but he has returned to playing Picard again , in a new CBS All Access series , “ Star Trek : Picard.
” He seems to have been lured back by the franchise ’ s bread and butter : social and political issues .
The seventy-nine-year-old English actor , also an executive producer on the show , has said that he wants science fiction to confront a world plagued by Trump and Brexit , by @ @ @ @ @ @ @ I am angry , disappointed , and embarrassed by our decision to leave the Union , ” he told NPR recently .
In the new show , the captain , softened by age , reëmerges in a very dark timeline .
His beloved android lieutenant , Data , is dead .
The United Federation of Planets , the organization that governs Picard ’ s corner of the galaxy , has fallen under the sway of forces both xenophobic and corrupt .
Synthetic life forms have set Mars on fire and are now banned @ @ @ @ @ @ @ of the Romulans , the Federation ’ s historic enemies , setting off an interplanetary refugee crisis that has shaken the population of Earth .
Picard ’ s values have fallen completely out of joint with those of his government .
In repose on the French vineyard where he grew up , and far from the off-kilter situations that threatened the Enterprise , he no longer speaks in clipped commands ( “ Speculate , ” “ Report , ” “ Make it so ” ) but muses over the way his advanced years @ @ @ @ @ @ @ him .
“ Nursing my offended dignity .
Writing books of history people prefer to forget , ” he says , chiding himself .
“ I haven ’ t been living .
I ’ ve been waiting to die.
” Like a sci-fi Jimmy Carter , Picard has retracted his personal universe into small moral acts .
He has taken in two Romulan refugees .
They banter and fix breakfast and remind him to wash his hands .
Picard ’ s outlook hasn ’ t changed , only his sense of what an @ @ @ @ @ @ @ all its forms , can still do in a world suffering from a void in moral authority .
And , yet , soon after we meet him , Picard is suddenly feeling hopeful , again .
The CBS executives that brought Picard back to us are optimistic , too : they announced the second season of “ Star Trek : Picard ” before Season 1 even aired its first episode .
And Stewart has been going around collecting his old cast members for cameos , just as the reanimated Picard goes around collecting @ @ @ @ @ @ @ into space .
Stewart recently beamed over to the set of “ The View , ” in his nicest striped jacket , to invite Whoopi Goldberg to join him for the next season of “ Picard.
” He had good reason to think she ’ d say yes .
Three decades earlier , at the height of her fame , Goldberg called Roddenberry to lunch and told him she wanted to be on “ Next Generation.
” He cast her as the barkeep Guinan .
For half a dozen seasons , Guinan advised @ @ @ @ @ @ @ to flirt to how to find humanity in the nearly irredeemable collective known as the Borg , a hive of creatures that violently turned every species they encountered into half-mechanical automatons .
Goldberg ’ s relationship to the show is a testament to its moral and political impact .
As a little girl in the sixties , she fixed her eyes on Lieutenant Uhura , the communications officer first played by Nichelle Nichols , in the original “ Star Trek ” series .
“ There ’ s a black lady on TV , @ @ @ @ @ @ @ “ And she ain ’ t no maid !
” Nichols herself nearly quit the show after one season , but was encouraged to hang on by another early “ Star Trek ” fan : Martin Luther King , Jr. “ You turn on your television and the news comes on and you see us marching and peaceful , you see the peaceful civil disobedience , and you see the dogs and see the fire hoses , and we all know they can not destroy us , ” she recalled King telling her @ @ @ @ @ @ @ the twenty-third century.
” The role-playing of diversity in the many iterations of “ Star Trek ” didn ’ t always go well .
Some species , like the Klingons or the Romulans , were often reduced to a static set of characteristics , “ a kind of intergalactic racial profiling , ” as the novelist and “ Picard ” showrunner Michael Chabon recently put it .
Chabon , along with his co-writers , have made attempts to change that .
More recent “ Star Trek ” films and shows , such as @ @ @ @ @ @ @ variety—not every Romulan is conniving and not every Klingon has a dark complexion .
“ Picard ” also departs from more benign “ Star Trek ” rules to conform to the new tendencies of streaming television .
The dialogue ( “ Dude , I ’ m a fellow in Artificial Intelligence and Quantum Consciousness ” ) and habits ( one character stuffs a futuristic pen with homegrown “ snake leaf ” and vapes from it , moodily ) often seem more at home in the twenty-first century than the twenty-fourth .
There are @ @ @ @ @ @ @ , too : most of the new faces that surround Picard are premium-cable scoundrels and Daniel Craig–era Bond villains , full of worldly resentments , overcooked ideologies , and self-centered intentions .
What ’ s unique is that they ’ re about to be swept up in Picardianism , the hokey but perhaps not yet worn-out utopian world view that longs to recognize common ideals across the galaxy , while also preserving its differences .
Picard did not come away without damage from all his investigations of alien strife .
He has had @ @ @ @ @ @ @ of other beings .
The Borg once assimilated him .
“ Have you ever .
.
.
been a stranger to yourself ?
” someone asks him , in the first episode of “ Picard.
” “ Many , many times , ” he replies .
Watching Picard and his crew explore the galaxy has always been as much about finding differences in the realms beyond our solar system as about finding the possibility of difference inside ourselves .
Even as new “ Star Trek ” shows make the universe a shade more @ @ @ @ @ @ @ the principles that guide our captain—the respect for all forms of intelligence , and the thrill of the unknown that is the very foundation of hope .

On a planet in the far reaches of space, Jean-Luc Picard, the storied captain of the Starship Enterprise, ran into a being who said she was the devil. She could make people disappear in a flash of energy. The ground shook at her command. Picard was skeptical. In all of his voyages, he had never encountered absolute evil. The universe’s creatures—humanoids, tiny robots, assemblages of light—were all capable of change, or at least of revelation. Surely, there must be a way to find the good in this powerful being, or otherwise a way to unmask her. In recent years, Picard’s optimistic spirit has been hard to conjure, not just in the world but on TV. The success of shows such as “Breaking Bad” and “Veep” proved that audiences could be interested in morally bankrupt people without seeking their redemption. But, in the landscape of gritty realism that has surfaced in the decade since, a once daring aesthetic gesture has lost its edge. The audience, fatigued by the powerful opportunists that threaten us during the day, finds it harder to sit transfixed by rudderless immorality at night.
That may be why the “Star Trek” creator Gene Roddenberry’s twentieth-century idealism is on the rise again, wafting up from shows such as Michael Schur’s philosophical sitcom “The Good Place” and Seth MacFarlane’s “The Orville,” a Trekkie-approved homage to “Star Trek: The Next Generation.” In the original “Next Generation,” Patrick Stewart plays Picard, the commander of a starship on a mission of exploration and of a crew whose altruism he can take as granted. The show was one part Margaret Mead among the Samoans and one part undergraduate ethics course, and it derived its tensions not from the battle scenes or from the protagonist’s tragic flaws but, rather, from moral and logical quandaries that tugged the audience from scene to scene: If a ship arrives through a time rift from a historic battle that saved the lives of billions, do you send it back to finish the skirmish, even though its crew will almost certainly die? Most dilemmas were resolved quietly. A laser gun (shaped like an electric shaver) might go off once an episode. Suspense would build as Picard, stern and sometimes shouty, slowly arrived at a way to respect all forms of intelligent life, no matter the circumstances. As for the earth-shaking devil, Picard defeats her not with choreographed kung fu on a high precipice but with due process in a courtroom, revealing her to be a con artist exploiting the latest in seismic technology.
Stewart eventually grew tired of the formula of “Star Trek: The Next Generation,” and of his close identification with the character, but he has returned to playing Picard again, in a new CBS All Access series, “Star Trek: Picard.” He seems to have been lured back by the franchise’s bread and butter: social and political issues. The seventy-nine-year-old English actor, also an executive producer on the show, has said that he wants science fiction to confront a world plagued by Trump and Brexit, by endless wars and immigration crises. “I am angry, disappointed, and embarrassed by our decision to leave the Union,” he told NPR recently.
In the new show, the captain, softened by age, reëmerges in a very dark time line. His beloved android lieutenant, Data, is dead. The United Federation of Planets, the organization that governs Picard’s corner of the galaxy, has fallen under the sway of forces both xenophobic and corrupt. Synthetic life forms have set Mars on fire and are now banned. A supernova destroyed the home world of the Romulans, the Federation’s historic enemies, setting off an interplanetary refugee crisis that has shaken the population of Earth. Picard’s values have fallen completely out of joint with those of his government. In repose on the French vineyard where he grew up, and far from the off-kilter situations that threatened the Enterprise, he no longer speaks in clipped commands (“Speculate,” “Report,” “Make it so”) but muses over the way his advanced years and the gloomy political situation have cowed him. “Nursing my offended dignity. Writing books of history people prefer to forget,” he says, chiding himself. “I haven’t been living. I’ve been waiting to die.”
Like a sci-fi Jimmy Carter, Picard has retracted his personal universe into small moral acts. He has taken in two Romulan refugees. They banter and fix breakfast and remind him to wash his hands. Picard’s outlook hasn’t changed, only his sense of what an old universalist, protective of life in all its forms, can still do in a world suffering from a void in moral authority. And, yet, soon after we meet him, Picard is suddenly feeling hopeful, again.
The CBS executives that brought Picard back to us are optimistic, too: they announced the second season of “Star Trek: Picard” before Season 1 even aired its first episode. And Stewart has been going around collecting his old cast members for cameos, just as the reanimated Picard goes around collecting a new crew for one last mission into space. Stewart recently beamed over to the set of “The View,” in his nicest striped jacket, to invite Whoopi Goldberg to join him for the next season of “Picard.” He had good reason to think she’d say yes. Three decades earlier, at the height of her fame, Goldberg called Roddenberry to lunch and told him she wanted to be on “Next Generation.” He cast her as the barkeep Guinan. For half a dozen seasons, Guinan advised the crew members on everything from how to flirt to how to find humanity in the nearly irredeemable collective known as the Borg, a hive of creatures that violently turned every species they encountered into half-mechanical automatons.
Goldberg’s relationship to the show is a testament to its moral and political impact. As a little girl in the sixties, she fixed her eyes on Lieutenant Uhura, the communications officer first played by Nichelle Nichols, in the original “Star Trek” series. “There’s a black lady on TV,” Goldberg exclaimed to her mother. “And she ain’t no maid!” Nichols herself nearly quit the show after one season, but was encouraged to hang on by another early “Star Trek” fan: Martin Luther King, Jr. “You turn on your television and the news comes on and you see us marching and peaceful, you see the peaceful civil disobedience, and you see the dogs and see the fire hoses, and we all know they cannot destroy us,” she recalled King telling her, “because we are there in the twenty-third century.”
The role-playing of diversity in the many iterations of “Star Trek” didn’t always go well. Some species, like the Klingons or the Romulans, were often reduced to a static set of characteristics, “a kind of intergalactic racial profiling,” as the novelist and “Picard” showrunner Michael Chabon recently put it. Chabon, along with his co-writers, have made attempts to change that. More recent “Star Trek” films and shows, such as “Discovery,” have added intraspecies variety—not every Romulan is conniving and not every Klingon has a dark complexion. “Picard” also departs from more benign “Star Trek” rules to conform to the new tendencies of streaming television. The dialogue (“Dude, I’m a fellow in Artificial Intelligence and Quantum Consciousness”) and habits (one character stuffs a futuristic pen with homegrown “snake leaf” and vapes from it, moodily) often seem more at home in the twenty-first century than the twenty-fourth. There are gratuitous fight scenes and some antihero grittiness, too: most of the new faces that surround Picard are premium-cable scoundrels and Daniel Craig–era Bond villains, full of worldly resentments, overcooked ideologies, and self-centered intentions. What’s unique is that they’re about to be swept up in Picardianism, the hokey but perhaps not yet worn-out utopian world view that longs to recognize common ideals across the galaxy, while also preserving its differences.
Picard did not come away without damage from all his investigations of alien strife. He has had his mind repeatedly hijacked by the concerns of other beings. The Borg once assimilated him. “Have you ever . . . been a stranger to yourself?” someone asks him, in the first episode of “Picard.” “Many, many times,” he replies. Watching Picard and his crew explore the galaxy has always been as much about finding differences in the realms beyond our solar system as about finding the possibility of difference inside ourselves. Even as new Star Trek shows make the universe a shade more grim, what stays the same are the principles that guide our captain—the respect for all forms of intelligence, and the thrill of the unknown that is the very foundation of hope.


newyorker--2020-02-06--Are the Courts Beginning to Move in Favor of Trump’s Immigration Policies?

Since taking office , Donald Trump has issued nearly twenty Presidential actions on immigration , and more rule changes and regulations than one can easily count .
Nearly all of them—including the travel ban , the cancellation of DACA , and measures to end asylum applications at the Southern border—have prompted legal challenges , and , in several instances , federal judges have issued nationwide injunctions blocking the Administration ’ s plans .
This situation has not deterred the White House , though , and , a few months ago , a senior D.H.S .
official told me why .
@ @ @ @ @ @ @ ’ t waste time trying to anticipate the risk of litigation , ’ ” the official said .
“ Everything will get challenged in the lower courts anyway .
We ’ ll win at the Supreme Court.
” Last week , in an unsigned , 5–4 decision , the justices lifted an injunction against the Administration ’ s “ public charge ” rule , which will use immigrants ’ financial status to determine their qualification for green cards and , eventually , citizenship .
( The rule will make it much more difficult @ @ @ @ @ @ @ on public assistance to become a legal permanent resident . )
A few days later , the White House expanded Trump ’ s travel ban , to include travellers from six additional countries , among them Nigeria .
District-court judges had repeatedly blocked the previous ban , but the Supreme Court eventually upheld it , in June , 2018 , on the ground that the President has unfettered authority to shape immigration policy for national-security purposes .
This time , the Administration didn ’ t bother to invoke any such purpose .
A @ @ @ @ @ @ @ the extension “ focussed on people who want to reside in the U.S. , not people who want to visit , ” meaning that travellers from the countries in question can enter the United States without incident , as long as they have no intention of staying here .
“ How can that be national-security motivated ?
” a former State Department official asked me .
If the Administration appears to be growing bolder , it may be because , three years into the President ’ s first term , the nation ’ @ @ @ @ @ @ @ his agenda .
In July , 2019 , the Supreme Court—which , by then , included two Trump appointees , Neil Gorsuch and Brett Kavanaugh—lifted an injunction on a Presidential proclamation calling for the use of military funding to build the border wall .
Two months later , the Justices allowed Trump ’ s asylum ban at the border to stand , pending further appeals .
Sometime this summer , they ’ re expected to issue a ruling in a separate case , on whether the Administration ’ s cancellation of DACA was @ @ @ @ @ @ @ , in his State of the Union address , thanked the Senate Republicans for confirming Gorsuch and Kavanaugh , and boasted that “ my Administration is restoring the rule of law.
” He has successfully appointed at least a hundred and eighty-seven judges to the federal judiciary and , he said , there are many more “ in the pipeline.
” The legal landscape has already begun to reflect his influence .
The Ninth Circuit Court of Appeals , for instance , which the President used to routinely attack as a “ complete @ @ @ @ @ @ @ “ Obama judges , ” has ten new conservative jurists .
When Trump took office , there were eleven more Democratic appointees than Republican appointees on the circuit ; now , on a court with twenty-nine judges , there are just three more Democratic appointees .
Generally , it isn ’ t the entire court that hears cases but , rather , panels of three judges who are selected at random .
This past May , one such panel lifted an injunction that a federal judge had issued to block a policy called @ @ @ @ @ @ @ forced more than a hundred thousand Central Americans seeking asylum in this country to wait in dangerous Mexican border cities .
The main fight in the shifting legal battle against the Administration ’ s policies now turns on what was once a semi-obscure matter of academic debate : whether it ’ s appropriate for federal judges to issue nationwide injunctions to halt those policies .
The practice has always been fraught , but it has become especially so in the past several years .
Since a federal judge can single-handedly stall a national @ @ @ @ @ @ @ file lawsuits in jurisdictions that are ideologically sympathetic to their causes .
During the Obama years , conservative groups and Republican attorneys general tried to stop executive actions on immigration and health care by challenging them before judges in South Texas .
When Trump became President , advocates sued the government in California , New York , Maryland , and other liberal states , prompting a spate of injunctions against the Administration .
The most obvious explanation for the rise of injunctions in the Trump era is , as Lee Gelernt , a @ @ @ @ @ @ @ Union , told me , the fact that “ there ’ s never been an Administration that tried to do so many unlawful things , nationwide , at once.
” Senior members of the Administration , however , blame their legal setbacks on rogue judges and a faulty system .
Last May , in a speech before the American Law Institute , in Washington , Attorney General William Barr called the issuance of nationwide injunctions “ perverse , ” and added that “ rather than an orderly pattern of litigation in which the @ @ @ @ @ @ @ .
.
.
we have an inter-district battle fought with all-or-nothing injunctions.
” Last week , in a concurring opinion on the Supreme Court ’ s decision on the public-charge rule , Justice Gorsuch hinted that the Court will likely take up the issue at some point .
“ The routine issuance ” of injunctions , he wrote , “ is patently unworkable , sowing chaos.
” As the battle has swung back and forth between the executive and the judiciary branches , it has bypassed the legislative branch .
“ Congress has @ @ @ @ @ @ @ ” Sarah Pierce , an analyst at the Migration Policy Institute , told me .
“ The government will continue to lean on the executive to develop policies , and on the courts to draw clear boundaries around what the executive can and should do .
But , if the courts can ’ t do that , if they ’ re impeded from stopping the executive when it ’ s gone past what its authority allows , then we ’ re going to have a one-sided conversation.
” The public-charge rule is a @ @ @ @ @ @ @ is technical : for decades , the federal government could withhold permanent legal status for certain immigrants who might have become overly dependent on the state as recipients of social services , but the formula for how the government decides who is ineligible , and why , has been stable since the late nineteen-nineties .
Now the Administration plans to drastically expand the list of factors that will count against a green-card applicant , including the use of non-cash benefits , such as food stamps and Medicaid .
It will also raise the @ @ @ @ @ @ @ must earn each year in order to avoid being labelled as a potential public charge .
The changes will disproportionately affect immigrants from Latin America , Asia , and Africa , and observers argue that this is by design .
According to the Migration Policy Institute , the policy is a “ modern-day version of the National Origins Quota Act of 1924 , ” a law that “ sought to tilt immigration to Western Europe.
” Such a radical rule change would not pass the current Congress , so the White House made @ @ @ @ @ @ @ ’ s blessing .
“ The Administration has looked hard for things that can be done administratively to tighten the screws on legal immigration , to bring the numbers down , and change the composition of who gets to come , ” Barbara Strack , a veteran official at the Department of Homeland Security , who recently retired , told me .
“ The public-charge rule is a significant part of that.
” Without nationwide injunctions to counterbalance aggressive executive actions , the President can make immigration policy in ways that are virtually @ @ @ @ @ @ @ how they would now fight the White House on any number of sweeping new policies .
Last month , for example , a federal judge blocked another executive order designed to restrict the refugee-resettlement program .
Will that injunction stand ?
The Administration , meanwhile , is preparing to take further action on asylum seekers and on the treatment of immigrant children .
The lawyers didn ’ t have an immediate answer , because there isn ’ t one .
Gelernt said , “ You ’ d have to try to pull together @ @ @ @ @ @ @ of different cases at once .
It would take a long time , and would be really hard .
In the meantime , your clients would suffer irreparable harm .
”

Since taking office, Donald Trump has issued nearly twenty Presidential actions on immigration, and more rule changes and regulations than one can easily count. Nearly all of them—including the travel ban, the cancellation of DACA, and measures to end asylum applications at the Southern border—have prompted legal challenges, and, in several instances, federal judges have issued nationwide injunctions blocking the Administration’s plans. This situation has not deterred the White House, though, and, a few months ago, a senior D.H.S. official told me why. “The idea is, ‘don’t waste time trying to anticipate the risk of litigation,’ ” the official said. “Everything will get challenged in the lower courts anyway. We’ll win at the Supreme Court.”
Last week, in an unsigned, 5–4 decision, the justices lifted an injunction against the Administration’s “public charge” rule, which will use immigrants’ financial status to determine their qualification for green cards and, eventually, citizenship. (The rule will make it much more difficult for anyone who may need to rely on public assistance to become a legal permanent resident.) A few days later, the White House expanded Trump’s travel ban, to include travellers from six additional countries, among them Nigeria. District-court judges had repeatedly blocked the previous ban, but the Supreme Court eventually upheld it, in June, 2018, on the ground that the President has unfettered authority to shape immigration policy for national-security purposes. This time, the Administration didn’t bother to invoke any such purpose. A D.H.S. official admitted to reporters that the extension “focussed on people who want to reside in the U.S., not people who want to visit,” meaning that travellers from the countries in question can enter the United States without incident, as long as they have no intention of staying here. “How can that be national-security motivated?” a former State Department official asked me.
If the Administration appears to be growing bolder, it may be because, three years into the President’s first term, the nation’s highest courts are starting to bolster his agenda. In July, 2019, the Supreme Court—which, by then, included two Trump appointees, Neil Gorsuch and Brett Kavanaugh—lifted an injunction on a Presidential proclamation calling for the use of military funding to build the border wall. Two months later, the Justices allowed Trump’s asylum ban at the border to stand, pending further appeals. Sometime this summer, they’re expected to issue a ruling in a separate case, on whether the Administration’s cancellation of DACA was legal. Earlier this week, Trump, in his State of the Union address, thanked the Senate Republicans for confirming Gorsuch and Kavanaugh, and boasted that “my Administration is restoring the rule of law.” He has successfully appointed at least a hundred and eighty-seven judges to the federal judiciary and, he said, there are many more “in the pipeline.”
The legal landscape has already begun to reflect his influence. The Ninth Circuit Court of Appeals, for instance, which the President used to routinely attack as a “complete and total disaster,” rife with “Obama judges,” has ten new conservative jurists. When Trump took office, there were eleven more Democratic appointees than Republican appointees on the circuit; now, on a court with twenty-nine judges, there are just three more Democratic appointees. Generally, it isn’t the entire court that hears cases but, rather, panels of three judges who are selected at random. This past May, one such panel lifted an injunction that a federal judge had issued to block a policy called the Migrant Protection Protocols, which has forced more than a hundred thousand Central Americans seeking asylum in this country to wait in dangerous Mexican border cities.
The main fight in the shifting legal battle against the Administration’s policies now turns on what was once a semi-obscure matter of academic debate: whether it’s appropriate for federal judges to issue nationwide injunctions to halt those policies. The practice has always been fraught, but it has become especially so in the past several years. Since a federal judge can single-handedly stall a national policy, litigants have increasingly opted to file lawsuits in jurisdictions that are ideologically sympathetic to their causes. During the Obama years, conservative groups and Republican attorneys general tried to stop executive actions on immigration and health care by challenging them before judges in South Texas. When Trump became President, advocates sued the government in California, New York, Maryland, and other liberal states, prompting a spate of injunctions against the Administration.
The most obvious explanation for the rise of injunctions in the Trump era is, as Lee Gelernt, a lead litigator at the American Civil Liberties Union, told me, the fact that “there’s never been an Administration that tried to do so many unlawful things, nationwide, at once.” Senior members of the Administration, however, blame their legal setbacks on rogue judges and a faulty system. Last May, in a speech before the American Law Institute, in Washington, Attorney General William Barr called the issuance of nationwide injunctions “perverse,” and added that “rather than an orderly pattern of litigation in which the government loses some cases and wins others . . . we have an inter-district battle fought with all-or-nothing injunctions.” Last week, in a concurring opinion on the Supreme Court’s decision on the public-charge rule, Justice Gorsuch hinted that the Court will likely take up the issue at some point. “The routine issuance” of injunctions, he wrote, “is patently unworkable, sowing chaos.”
As the battle has swung back and forth between the executive and the judiciary branches, it has bypassed the legislative branch. “Congress has been completely out of the conversation,” Sarah Pierce, an analyst at the Migration Policy Institute, told me. “The government will continue to lean on the executive to develop policies, and on the courts to draw clear boundaries around what the executive can and should do. But, if the courts can’t do that, if they’re impeded from stopping the executive when it’s gone past what its authority allows, then we’re going to have a one-sided conversation.” The public-charge rule is a case in point. The policy itself is technical: for decades, the federal government could withhold permanent legal status for certain immigrants who might have become overly dependent on the state as recipients of social services, but the formula for how the government decides who is ineligible, and why, has been stable since the late nineteen-nineties.
Now the Administration plans to drastically expand the list of factors that will count against a green-card applicant, including the use of non-cash benefits, such as food stamps and Medicaid. It will also raise the threshold for how much money a person must earn each year in order to avoid being labelled as a potential public charge. The changes will disproportionately affect immigrants from Latin America, Asia, and Africa, and observers argue that this is by design. According to the Migration Policy Institute, the policy is a “modern-day version of the National Origins Quota Act of 1924,” a law that “sought to tilt immigration to Western Europe.”
Such a radical rule change would not pass the current Congress, so the White House made it unilaterally, with the Supreme Court’s blessing. “The Administration has looked hard for things that can be done administratively to tighten the screws on legal immigration, to bring the numbers down, and change the composition of who gets to come,” Barbara Strack, a veteran official at the Department of Homeland Security, who recently retired, told me. “The public-charge rule is a significant part of that.”
Without nationwide injunctions to counterbalance aggressive executive actions, the President can make immigration policy in ways that are virtually unchecked. I asked several civil-rights lawyers how they would now fight the White House on any number of sweeping new policies. Last month, for example, a federal judge blocked another executive order designed to restrict the refugee-resettlement program. Will that injunction stand? The Administration, meanwhile, is preparing to take further action on asylum seekers and on the treatment of immigrant children. The lawyers didn’t have an immediate answer, because there isn’t one. Gelernt said, “You’d have to try to pull together class-action suits, or bring a lot of different cases at once. It would take a long time, and would be really hard. In the meantime, your clients would suffer irreparable harm.”


newyorker--2020-02-06--What to Do in N.Y.C. This Weekend: February 7th–9th

These are our top picks for the weekend of February 7th–9th .
For more event listings and reviews , check out Goings On About Town .
The oldest known still-lifes are ancient Egyptian—frescoes of figs for the afterlife .
The Assyrians carved pomegranates from ivory .
And so it continued , from Caravaggio ’ s grapes to Cézanne ’ s apples .
In the twentieth-century avant-garde , produce became a material for making art , too .
This weekend , on the eighth floor of the Whitney , the sharp-witted New York Conceptualist Darren Bader offers food for thought in @ @ @ @ @ @ @ : Fruit and Vegetable Salad ” : forty pedestals topped with as many readymades , which on a recent visit included a kumquat , an artichoke , rainbow chard , an aloe leaf , and a pineapple .
( Bader ’ s instructions for the piece don ’ t dictate the ingredients , just that they be visually varied and fresh . )
On Friday night , at 7:30 , and on Sunday afternoon , at 3 , the sculptures transubstantiate into ingredients when a team from the nearby restaurant Untitled chops them @ @ @ @ @ @ @ is served in the gallery .
The piece pairs nicely with the sculpture by Liza Lou on view two floors below : a full-scale kitchen crafted from millions of beads , which it took the artist five years to complete.—Andrea K. Scott For more art reviews , click here .
Michael Kiwanuka gave his third album his last name .
It may not seem like a hugely significant detail , but , as one dives deeper into his maze of retro-inspired funk , soul , and psychedelic rock , the British singer ’ @ @ @ @ @ @ @ s celebrating his identity as both an artist and the son of Ugandan immigrants .
As he grapples with our era ’ s uncertainty and violence , he works through his pain on songs such as “ Rolling ” and “ You Ain ’ t the Problem ” without losing his electric , unrestrained sound , on display on Saturday at Terminal 5.—Julyssa Lopez For more night-life listings , click here .
Improbable but undeniable : beans are having a moment .
And so you could say that the people behind Leo , @ @ @ @ @ @ @ have their fingers on the pulse , pun intended ( and apologized for ) .
For several years , Ops , a restaurant in Bushwick with some of the same owners , has had simply prepared beans on its menu .
At Leo , Scarlet Runners , an heirloom variety , are gently braised with garlic , rosemary , and sage until easily crushed between the teeth but still firm and meaty , generously salted , and finished with a glug of grassy olive oil.—Hannah Goldfield For more restaurant reviews , click here @ @ @ @ @ @ @ , ” a zinging , swinging new work , an homage to Old Hollywood movies , written by Charles Busch ( at the Cherry Lane ) , is best experienced with a group of willing laughers , and , preferably , one or two close friends .
Once the laughs get going , there ’ s no stopping them ; no matter how cheaply they ’ re won—some of these gags are banana-peel slips of pandering fun—you might as well surrender .
Busch plays Lily Dare , an orphan who rushes through an @ @ @ @ @ @ @ victim , cabaret singer , inmate , famous madam , and on and on—as she nurses her secret of a long-lost daughter .
Jennifer Van Dyck plays several characters , including Lily ’ s daughter , Lily ’ s aunt , and an undercover cop , all hilariously .
You might be tempted to call this camp—that ’ s the word most often used in association with Busch—but it ’ s a hell of a weird , subtly dark good time , and a tutorial on the workings of melodrama.—Vinson Cunningham For more @ @ @ @ @ @ @ rediscovery and restoration of Horace B. Jenkins ’ s 1982 drama “ Cane River ” —which is getting a long-delayed theatrical release , at BAM , starting Friday—is another crucial reminder that the history of cinema contains hidden treasures in danger of being permanently lost .
Jenkins , an African-American filmmaker , told the story of a young black man ( Tômmye Myrick ) who returns to his home town in rural Louisiana and confronts prejudice even within his own community .
The film , based on stories from the family of Jenkins @ @ @ @ @ @ @ offers a rich spectrum of experience , from romance and history to religious conflicts and labyrinthine legal battles .
The movie vanished shortly after Jenkins ’ s death , the year he completed it ; the negative only resurfaced in 2014 , and its handful of screenings a year ago was the first step toward its overdue recognition.—Richard Brody For more movie reviews , click here .
The Brooklyn-based clarinetist John McCowen views his instrument as an “ acoustic synthesizer , ” focussing intently on the prismatic aural phenomena that result from playing @ @ @ @ @ @ @ .
However austere his approach may seem , the results teem with the sonic equivalent of microscopic life viewed on a slide .
In the first concert of his Issue Project Room artist residency , on Saturday night , he concentrates exclusively on the Stygian rumble of the contrabass clarinet , a beast seldom encountered outside of high-school band halls.—Steve Smith For more classical-music listings , click here .
In “ Cão Sem Plumas ” ( “ Dog Without Feathers ” ) , at the Joyce through February 9th , the prominent Rio-based @ @ @ @ @ @ @ trip to northeastern Brazil , along the Capibaribe River .
The region appears glamorously in black-and-white film , directed by Colker and Cláudio Assis : cracked riverbeds , burning cane fields , and mangrove swamps , all ornamented with mud-caked dancers .
Onstage , in mud-patterned unitards , the dancers move acrobatically but stick close to the ground , as if only half emerged from a state of nature .
In a meandering travelogue of images , they take on aspects of herons , mangrove trees , a giant crab.—Brian Seibert For more @ @ @ @ @ @

These are our top picks for the weekend of March 6th-8th. For more event listings and reviews, check out Goings On About Town.
Art work by José Clemente Orozco / Courtesy ARS / SOMAAP / MOMA
The Whitney’s thumpingly great show “Vida Americana: Mexican Muralists Remake American Art, 1924-1945” picks an overdue art-historical fight. The usual story of those two decades revolves around young aesthetes striving to absorb European modernism. What to do with the mighty legacy of the era’s big three Mexican painters, Diego Rivera, José Clemente Orozco, and David Alfaro Siqueiros? As little as possible has seemed the rule, despite the seminal influence of Orozco and Siqueiros on the young Jackson Pollock. With some two hundred works by sixty artists and abundant documentary material, the curator Barbara Haskell reweaves the sense and sensations of the era to bring it alive.—Peter Schjeldahl
For more art reviews, click here.
For our Spring Art Preview, click here.
Photograph by Hanna-Katrina Jedrosz
The glamorously intelligent post-punk that was incubated in English art colleges forty years ago is reconstituted with panache in Dry Cleaning: it’s almost shocking to hear lyrics referencing not Margaret Thatcher but Meghan Markle. This young London quartet is effortlessly magnetic and impossibly British, with an ace card in Florence Shaw—a vocalist who rarely deigns to sing but, rather, presents her lyrics as if engaged in an apathetic phone conversation. After making its American début at Saint Vitus, on Friday, the band plays Union Pool the following night.—Jay Ruttenberg
For more night-life listings, click here.
For our Spring Night-Life Preview, click here.
Photograph by Heami Lee for The New Yorker
There has never been a better time to eat a meatless hamburger. The current surge of interest in plant-based diets has sparked an arms race of sorts. Since 2008, the chef Amanda Cohen has been the force behind Dirt Candy, the first vegetarian restaurant to hold its own in New York’s fine-dining landscape. Cohen had never served a veggie burger before Andrea Kerzner, a South African philanthropist looking for ways to fight climate change, cold-called her to propose that they collaborate on a restaurant built around one, but she was game to try. Last November, they opened Lekka Burger, in Tribeca.—Hannah Goldfield
For more restaurant reviews, click here.
Photograph by Sara Krulwich / NYT / Redux
In 1997, a woman named Dana Higginbotham was abducted by an ex-convict and member of the Aryan Brotherhood. He dragged her from motel to motel around the South for five months, abusing her physically and mentally. Higginbotham happens to be the mother of the playwright Lucas Hnath, who turned the story into a play. And not just any play—“Dana H.” (at the Vineyard) is a channelling, an exorcism, and a tribute. The brilliant concept is that the actress Deirdre O’Connell, alone onstage, lip-synchs—with virtuosic precision—to edited segments of interviews with the actual Dana H. Directed by Les Waters with chilling precision and his usual skill for creating an eerie atmosphere, this production is as stunning as it is harrowing.—Elisabeth Vincentelli
For more theatre reviews, click here.
For our Spring Theatre Preview, click here.
Photograph from Universal Pictures / Album / Alamy
Alfred Hitchcock depended greatly on the art and the acumen of female collaborators, including his wife, Alma Reville, a screenwriter and editor, and Joan Harrison, a writer and producer. Their work is brought into the fore in Film Forum’s series “The Women Behind Hitchcock,” which also includes movies by other directors, including Robert Siodmak, a film-noir specialist whose harsh and cynical vision of wartime New York, “Phantom Lady,” from 1944, was produced by Harrison. It screens on Saturday and four more times before the series ends, on March 19th.—Richard Brody
For more movie reviews, click here.
For our Spring Movies Preview, click here.
Photograph by Alexander Polzin
The Talea Ensemble performs the U.S. première of Toshio Hosokawa’s “Futari Shizuka,” a chamber opera based on a Noh play about a spirit that enters a woman’s body. It uses Western- and Noh-style singing to differentiate between the two characters, and it appears on a double bill with another chamber opera about possession: George Benjamin’s “Into the Little Hill,” a striking, minimalist setting of the Pied Piper legend in which two singers assume all the roles. On Saturday evening, James Baker conducts the cast and ensemble in a semi-staged concert at the 92nd Street Y.—Oussama Zahr
For more classical-music listings, click here.
For our Spring Classical-Music Preview, click here.
Photograph by Rahi Rezvani
Nederlands Dans Theatre, based in The Hague, is one of the most prestigious contemporary-dance ensembles in Europe, if not the world. Its reputation is rooted, in part, in the long artistic residency of the choreographer Jiří Kylián. The current program doesn’t include any Kylián, but the four choreographers on it are in many ways his heirs. Gabriela Carrizo, from Argentina, has created a fragmented Bergmanesque narrative, “The Missing Door,” revolving around a death and set in a bleak, hotel-like space. “Walk the Demon” is one of Marco Goecke’s twitchy, insect-like essays in movement. And, from the two in-house choreographers, Sol León and Paul Lightfoot, we get “Shut Eye,” a fantasy made of light and shadow.—Marina Harss
For more dance listings, click here.
For our Spring Dance Preview, click here.


newyorker--2020-02-06--Disasters at America’s Polling Places

Disasters at America’s Polling Places

On Monday , at the Iowa caucuses , a new smartphone app was used to report the results from each @ @ @ @ @ faulty , leading to a catastrophic failure to collect and report vote totals .
In @ @ @ @ @ technology make voting easier and more accessible .
In practice , they have introduced new @ @ @ @ @ to suppress or undermine the will of the voters .
Sue Halpern joins Dorothy Wickenden @ @ @ @ @ of voter suppression and malfunctions at polling places and whether the 2020 election can be @ @

Photograph by Alex Wong / Getty
On Monday, at the Iowa caucuses, a new smartphone app was used to report the results from each precinct. The app proved faulty, leading to a catastrophic failure to collect and report vote totals. In theory, advances in voting technology make voting easier and more accessible. In practice, they have introduced new vulnerabilities that can be exploited to suppress or undermine the will of the voters. Sue Halpern joins Dorothy Wickenden to discuss the recent history of voter suppression and malfunctions at polling places and whether the 2020 election can be saved.


newyorker--2020-02-06--Kirk Douglas’s Heroism, Large and Small

Kirk Douglas’s Heroism, Large and Small

A young guy once stood at the side of a road , hoping to hitch a ride .
A car stopped , on its way to Palm Springs , and picked him up .
The man in the driver ’ s seat was Kirk Douglas .
The hitchhiker looked at him in astonishment and said , “ Do you know who you are ?
” Good question , and one that would give most of us pause for thought .
Marlon Brando would have stopped the car and walked off into the desert in search of an answer .
But @ @ @ @ @ @ @ he was , and the force of that knowledge was one of the things that kept his motor running .
It finally went quiet on Wednesday , when Douglas passed away , at the age of a hundred and three .
He had first become a movie star , and a name to reckon with , at the age of thirty .
What a ride !
His death reinforces the impression that I tried to describe when writing about Douglas , for this magazine , on the occasion of his centenary .
Onscreen @ @ @ @ @ @ @ audiences not merely awed but fearful .
Watch “ Spartacus ” at the cinema , and see if you can resist the call to rise from your seat , like a defiant slave , and shout “ I ’ m Spartacus !
” at the appropriate moment .
You wouldn ’ t want Douglas catching your eye and spying a possible coward .
His look could cut through you like a sword .
Such awe , however , is tempered by regret .
With the felling of Douglas , the landscape of heroic @ @ @ @ @ @ @ that we shall not see his like again is to wonder , naturally , what that like consists of .
We still have plenty of leading men who behave with resourceful heroism in the service of the plot : Matt Damon as Jason Bourne , or Tom Cruise—who , at his current rate of activity , will presumably live to be two hundred and three—in the “ Mission : Impossible ” series .
Yet the Damons and the Cruises , despite their continuing appeal , do not and can not cut heroic figures @ @ @ @ @ @ @ presence from film to film , like that of Gary Cooper or John Wayne , constituted a kind of imperium .
This grandeur is now both impractical and suspect—such are the times we live in and the bones we like to pick , not to mention the dimensions of our screens .
The crucifixion , at the end of “ Spartacus , ” might lose a little something if viewed on an Apple Watch .
The fault lies not in our stars but in ourselves .
What about Daniel Day-Lewis , you might @ @ @ @ @ @ @ , in “ There Will Be Blood ” —an epic with a monster at its core ?
It ’ s a deep-drilled performance , by any standard , and you can feel Day-Lewis becoming the person he plays , just as he strove to become Lincoln for Steven Spielberg .
Majestic as those transformations are , though , they are leagues away from Douglas ’ s dramatic stance .
He never vanished into van Gogh , in “ Lust for Life , ” despite the russet beard ; not for a second did @ @ @ @ @ @ @ , not the painter , whom you had paid to see .
Van Gogh was recruited into the ranks of Douglas ’ s stardom , strengthening our sense of his cinematic command , just as the lasting legacy of El Cid , a Castilian warlord of the eleventh century , was the mighty honor of being played by Charlton Heston .
Time and again , the past is travestied and twisted for the pleasure of the moviegoing present , and yet , in the hands of the strongest performers , the twist itself @ @ @ @ @ @ @ and Heston were friends .
Now that they are both no more , departed for whatever brawny Valhalla can contain them , it ’ s worth reflecting on what that friendship meant .
When Michael Moore went to speak to Heston , then the president of the N.R.A.
, and recorded their encounter for “ Bowling for Columbine , ” Douglas defended his fellow actor : In the three years since Douglas ’ s hundredth birthday , that defense has acquired a fresh robustness .
It used to be that pals could agree @ @ @ @ @ @ @ over something as transient and as crumbling as current politics hardly deserved the name of friendship at all .
That is why Douglas , a lifelong Democrat with a passion for social justice , stood by Heston , a Republican .
The same went for Henry Fonda and James Stewart , exemplars of the left and the right respectively , whose fifty-year rapport is celebrated in style by Scott Eyman ’ s joint biography , “ Hank and Jim.
” Each actor , it should be remembered , had served with distinction during @ @ @ @ @ @ @ , as in any war , the voting intentions of the guy beside you tend to be of minor interest when he ’ s about to save your ass .
Or vice versa .
Under the current Administration , that accord has changed .
You are either a Montague or a Capulet , and there ’ s no love lost , or permitted , between the two tribes .
Friendships exist to be snapped in half , and daggers must be permanently drawn .
And so , as we mourn Kirk Douglas , @ @ @ @ @ @ @ motion pictures and beyond , let us not discard as old-fashioned or unworkable his summons to courtesy , or his belief that good companionship is a blessing to be tested rather than tossed away .
To call him a man of peace , famed as he was for the heat of his temper , would be going too far .
Nonetheless , when a great action hero tells us to cool it , we should listen .

Kirk Douglas during the making of “Spartacus” in 1959. Photograph by Inge Morath / Magnum
A young guy once stood at the side of a road, hoping to hitch a ride. A car stopped, on its way to Palm Springs, and picked him up. The man in the driver’s seat was Kirk Douglas. The hitchhiker looked at him in astonishment and said, “Do you know who you are?”
Good question, and one that would give most of us pause for thought. Marlon Brando would have stopped the car and walked off into the desert in search of an answer. But not Douglas. He knew exactly who he was, and the force of that knowledge was one of the things that kept his motor running. It finally went quiet on Wednesday, when Douglas passed away, at the age of a hundred and three. He had first become a movie star, and a name to reckon with, at the age of thirty. What a ride!
His death reinforces the impression that I tried to describe when writing about Douglas, for this magazine, on the occasion of his centenary. Onscreen, he projected a vigor that left audiences not merely awed but fearful. Watch “Spartacus” at the cinema, and see if you can resist the call to rise from your seat, like a defiant slave, and shout “I’m Spartacus!” at the appropriate moment. You wouldn’t want Douglas catching your eye and spying a possible coward. His look could cut through you like a sword.
Such awe, however, is tempered by regret. With the felling of Douglas, the landscape of heroic actors looks perilously bare. To say that we shall not see his like again is to wonder, naturally, what that like consists of. We still have plenty of leading men who behave with resourceful heroism in the service of the plot: Matt Damon as Jason Bourne, or Tom Cruise—who, at his current rate of activity, will presumably live to be two hundred and three—in the “Mission: Impossible” series. Yet the Damons and the Cruises, despite their continuing appeal, do not and cannot cut heroic figures along the lines of Douglas, whose presence from film to film, like that of Gary Cooper or John Wayne, constituted a kind of imperium. This grandeur is now both impractical and suspect—such are the times we live in and the bones we like to pick, not to mention the dimensions of our screens. The crucifixion, at the end of “Spartacus,” might lose a little something if viewed on an Apple Watch. The fault lies not in our stars but in ourselves.
What about Daniel Day-Lewis, you might ask, as the oilman Daniel Plainview, in “There Will Be Blood”—an epic with a monster at its core? It’s a deep-drilled performance, by any standard, and you can feel Day-Lewis becoming the person he plays, just as he strove to become Lincoln for Steven Spielberg. Majestic as those transformations are, though, they are leagues away from Douglas’s dramatic stance. He never vanished into van Gogh, in “Lust for Life,” despite the russet beard; not for a second did you forget that it was the actor, not the painter, whom you had paid to see. Van Gogh was recruited into the ranks of Douglas’s stardom, strengthening our sense of his cinematic command, just as the lasting legacy of El Cid, a Castilian warlord of the eleventh century, was the mighty honor of being played by Charlton Heston. Time and again, the past is travestied and twisted for the pleasure of the moviegoing present, and yet, in the hands of the strongest performers, the twist itself turns into a noble deed.
Douglas and Heston were friends. Now that they are both no more, departed for whatever brawny Valhalla can contain them, it’s worth reflecting on what that friendship meant. When Michael Moore went to speak to Heston, then the president of the N.R.A., and recorded their encounter for “Bowling for Columbine,” Douglas defended his fellow actor:
Even if I don’t agree with much of Heston’s politics, Chuck is a gentleman. He agreed to have an interview with Moore, and Moore took advantage of the situation and made Chuck look foolish. He had been invited to Heston’s home and he was treated with courtesy. I winced when I saw the expression on Chuck’s face change as he realized that he had been duped. And yet he remained a gentleman and dismissed the interloper with grace.
In the three years since Douglas’s hundredth birthday, that defense has acquired a fresh robustness. It used to be that pals could agree to disagree; a friendship that foundered over something as transient and as crumbling as current politics hardly deserved the name of friendship at all. That is why Douglas, a lifelong Democrat with a passion for social justice, stood by Heston, a Republican. The same went for Henry Fonda and James Stewart, exemplars of the left and the right respectively, whose fifty-year rapport is celebrated in style by Scott Eyman’s joint biography, “Hank and Jim.” Each actor, it should be remembered, had served with distinction during the Second World War, during which, as in any war, the voting intentions of the guy beside you tend to be of minor interest when he’s about to save your ass. Or vice versa.
Under the current Administration, that accord has changed. You are either a Montague or a Capulet, and there’s no love lost, or permitted, between the two tribes. Friendships exist to be snapped in half, and daggers must be permanently drawn. And so, as we mourn Kirk Douglas, whose lust for life blazed through his motion pictures and beyond, let us not discard as old-fashioned or unworkable his summons to courtesy, or his belief that good companionship is a blessing to be tested rather than tossed away. To call him a man of peace, famed as he was for the heat of his temper, would be going too far. Nonetheless, when a great action hero tells us to cool it, we should listen.


newyorker--2020-02-06--A New Book on Elena Ferrante Rethinks What Criticism Can Be

“ The Ferrante Letters , ” a book of “ collective criticism ” from the authors and academics Sarah Chihaya , Merve Emre , Katherine Hill , and Jill Richards , began in the spring of 2015 , at a bar in Brooklyn .
“ It was that moment when spring flirts with summer , ” they write in their introduction , “ the wind antagonizing the cherry trees in bloom.
” The word “ flirt ” feels deliberate .
Here are letters that the four women sent one another while reading Elena Ferrante ’ s Neapolitan quartet : letters @ @ @ @ @ @ @ textual engagement .
“ Each letter would build on the arguments of previous letters by agreeing , disagreeing , extending , and reframing , ” the authors continue .
“ The boundaries between our readings would stay permeable .
.
.
.
we believed that this would make visible the slow , fractured , and creative accretion of ideas that underwrites all acts of criticism.
” There ’ s something uncanny about a group of bookish women using Ferrante ’ s tetralogy—which follows the lives of Lila and Lenù , two friends growing @ @ @ @ @ @ @ a collective inquiry .
Lenù is a novelist .
Lila , who experiences surreal episodes in which “ the outlines of things and people .
.
.
broke like cotton thread , ” is Lenù ’ s muse .
The books themselves , framed by Lila ’ s disappearance and penned by an anonymous author ( Elena Ferrante is a pseudonym ) , represent identity as a thing that vanishes , or that never existed at all .
Maybe , in this context , killing off the individual critic is only logical .
@ @ @ @ @ @ @ the pleasures of traditional criticism .
Part One consists of short , exploratory letters , which touch on everything from friendship to motherhood to political solidarity .
In Part Two , each writer presents a longer essay that develops an idea from the first half .
The project mostly caters to initiates , who can test its observations against their prior knowledge of Ferrante , but the authors themselves seem attracted to the role of the amateur .
Their introduction underscores that none of them specialize in Italian literature ; nor had any @ @ @ @ @ @ @ on the experiment .
Frequently they adopt a tentative posture , dancing around ideas and one other .
“ I ’ m not going to make any particularly responsible or rigorous claims here about Sebald and Ferrante , ” Chihaya warns at one point .
“ It ’ s just some confused thoughts and feelings , stemming in some ways from Katherine ’ s provocation to think about place over/with/under character.
” Informality provides a cover for daring .
( What follows Chihaya ’ s hedge is a rich meditation on the elusiveness @ @ @ @ @ @ @ It also “ makes visible , ” as the authors point out , the fractured , cumulative nature of literary analysis itself .
Paging through these letters is like streaming a time-lapse video : in one example , Emre ’ s perceptive gloss on an exploding pot ( the scene converts “ social entropy ” into “ material destruction ” ) seeps into Chihaya ’ s notion of phantasmagorical realism , a mode in which physical objects are overcharged with meaning .
Elsewhere , the writers chase will-o ’ -the-wisps through unexpectedly intimate @ @ @ @ @ @ @ Chihaya discusses depression and the pull of self-erasure .
Richards notes , “ There are shadow narratives , about me .
.
.
.
underneath the stories that I tell about Lenù and Lila , so that the Neapolitan cycle blurs a bit into the background , as a merely enabling fiction.
” The personal has been wending its way into criticism for some time , usually to stress the discipline ’ s subjectivity : recalling the “ web of lived relations ” in which scholarship occurs is thought , reasonably , to @ @ @ @ @ @ @ “ selves behind these projects , ” the authors insist , quoting Jack Halberstam . )
But the disclosures in “ The Ferrante Letters ” aren ’ t disclaimers , meant to contextualize—they ’ re ankle flashes , meant to seduce .
The intimate tone lends a beguiling humanity to the book , inducing a pleasure more often associated with novels : the pleasure of character .
For Chihaya , Emre , and Richards ( Hill reveals less ) , select confessions promise not the key to one story—Ferrante ’ s—but the existence @ @ @ @ @ @ @ , which the first story only “ enables.
” This is one of several ways in which the essays aspire to the condition of fiction .
Specifically , they aspire to the condition of Ferrante ’ s fiction , which bristles with “ shadow narratives ” : Lenù ’ s novels , for example , paraphrase Lila ’ s apparently superior diaries .
The wished-for ideal appears to be ambiguity and aesthetic unknowability .
This means that , even as “ The Ferrante Letters ” showcases what is good about criticism ( keen @ @ @ @ @ @ @ forceful expression ) , it can seem , at times , to disdain its own genre .
It ’ s hard to object to ambition , the flourishes that make this book read like art .
And yet it ’ s worth distinguishing between literary effects that charm or move a reader and those that increase her comprehension of a text .
Book reviews aren ’ t here to make friends , even brilliant ones .
What , exactly , are they here to do ?
The most provocative claim in “ The @ @ @ @ @ @ @ not only illuminate a text ; it might also mimic a work , inhabit its form .
This makes for mesmerically reflexive reading , in which the authors , characters in a plot of their own making , gradually become subject to Ferrante ’ s themes .
Consider the essays in the back of the book .
Richards , an expert in gender and sexuality studies , explores elisions—the way Lenù overwrites Lila ’ s dialogue , for instance—in order to think about queer alternatives to the Neapolitan narrative .
Chihaya , meanwhile @ @ @ @ @ @ @ and turbulence suffusing Ferrante ’ s work produces a not-quite-enjoyable excitation , which she calls “ unpleasure , ” and which she connects to our twinned drives for self-assertion and self-effacement , familiar from her own life .
Throughout , there ’ s a sense that Ferrante ’ s novels and the letters are composed of the same thematic strata .
The outermost layer has something to do with competition and affiliation .
Lila and Lenù comprise , as Richards puts it , “ an economy of two.
” A reader feels the @ @ @ @ @ @ @ at the other ’ s expense .
“ Amongst friends , ” Richards writes , “ what makes you you has to bounce off everyone else in a claustrophobic pool game of limited personalities.
” Are you a Lenù or a Lila ?
Similarly , are you a Sarah , a Merve , a Katherine , or a Jill ?
I caught myself projecting different aspects of a single critical mind onto the authors : Chihaya as dream logic , Emre as judgment , Richards as counterfactual imagination , Hill as warmth .
@ @ @ @ @ @ @ reductive , and , one layer down , the novels seem to critique it .
Ferrante blurs the line between Lila and Lenù .
She takes up the fluidity of the self , and the letters implicitly make the same point , offering a vision of the critic ’ s brain as bustling , porous , crammed with other people .
Recently , I went to see Chihaya , Emre , Hill , and Richards speak at a local bookstore .
I arrived late ; the room was so full that I could @ @ @ @ @ @ @ mingling but distinct .
One of them pointed out that letters assume an audience aside from the specific addressee—the form involves both communication and performance , speaking not only to but through .
This feeling , of women using one another ’ s stories as occasions for self-making , is central to the Neapolitan quartet .
What distinguishes the professors from Lila and Lenù is the spirit in which the material is offered .
Ferrante ’ s protagonists are territorial ; Chihaya , Emre , Hill , and Richards circulate their words generously @ @ @ @ @ @ @ civic-mindedness .
But it could also reflect the fact that , for these authors , readings are not complete , polished products .
Self-dissent can be transcribed , rather than quieted ; every sentence is an invitation to press harder .
The never-ending-ness of such a practice—of all critical practice , done right—is occasionally paralyzing .
Even working on this review , I at times felt myself losing shape and multiplying , as if there were too many of me to start the job and too few of me to finish it .
@ @ @ @ @ @ @ desk .
I wandered back .
I bothered my colleague , who was closing a Profile .
I wanted feedback on my efforts , which were crawling out of an indeterminate , personal place , but then , I think , I also wanted something simpler : company .

“The Ferrante Letters,” a book of “collective criticism” from the authors and academics Sarah Chihaya, Merve Emre, Katherine Hill, and Jill Richards, began in the spring of 2015, at a bar in Brooklyn. “It was that moment when spring flirts with summer,” they write in their introduction, “the wind antagonizing the cherry trees in bloom.” The word “flirt” feels deliberate. Here are letters that the four women sent one another while reading Elena Ferrante’s Neapolitan quartet: letters that themselves court a new mode of textual engagement. “Each letter would build on the arguments of previous letters by agreeing, disagreeing, extending, and reframing,” the authors continue. “The boundaries between our readings would stay permeable. . . . we believed that this would make visible the slow, fractured, and creative accretion of ideas that underwrites all acts of criticism.”
There’s something uncanny about a group of bookish women using Ferrante’s tetralogy—which follows the lives of Lila and Lenù, two friends growing up in Naples during the nineteen-fifties—to impel a collective inquiry. Lenù is a novelist. Lila, who experiences surreal episodes in which “the outlines of things and people . . . broke like cotton thread,” is Lenù’s muse. The books themselves, framed by Lila’s disappearance and penned by an anonymous author (Elena Ferrante is a pseudonym), represent identity as a thing that vanishes, or that never existed at all. Maybe, in this context, killing off the individual critic is only logical.
Still, the book offers many of the pleasures of traditional criticism. Part One consists of short, exploratory letters, which touch on everything from friendship to motherhood to political solidarity. In Part Two, each writer presents a longer essay that develops an idea from the first half. The project mostly caters to initiates, who can test its observations against their prior knowledge of Ferrante, but the authors themselves seem attracted to the role of the amateur. Their introduction underscores that none of them specialize in Italian literature; nor had any of them written about Ferrante before embarking on the experiment. Frequently they adopt a tentative posture, dancing around ideas and one other. “I’m not going to make any particularly responsible or rigorous claims here about Sebald and Ferrante,” Chihaya warns at one point. “It’s just some confused thoughts and feelings, stemming in some ways from Katherine’s provocation to think about place over/with/under character.”
Informality provides a cover for daring. (What follows Chihaya’s hedge is a rich meditation on the elusiveness of both neighborhoods and people.) It also “makes visible,” as the authors point out, the fractured, cumulative nature of literary analysis itself. Paging through these letters is like streaming a time-lapse video: in one example, Emre’s perceptive gloss on an exploding pot (the scene converts “social entropy” into “material destruction”) seeps into Chihaya’s notion of phantasmagorical realism, a mode in which physical objects are overcharged with meaning. Elsewhere, the writers chase will-o’-the-wisps through unexpectedly intimate terrain. Emre considers her pregnancy. Chihaya discusses depression and the pull of self-erasure. Richards notes, “There are shadow narratives, about me. . . . underneath the stories that I tell about Lenù and Lila, so that the Neapolitan cycle blurs a bit into the background, as a merely enabling fiction.”
The personal has been wending its way into criticism for some time, usually to stress the discipline’s subjectivity: recalling the “web of lived relations” in which scholarship occurs is thought, reasonably, to yield greater understanding. (There are “selves behind these projects,” the authors insist, quoting Jack Halberstam.) But the disclosures in “The Ferrante Letters” aren’t disclaimers, meant to contextualize—they’re ankle flashes, meant to seduce. The intimate tone lends a beguiling humanity to the book, inducing a pleasure more often associated with novels: the pleasure of character. For Chihaya, Emre, and Richards (Hill reveals less), select confessions promise not the key to one story—Ferrante’s—but the existence of a second, more enchanting story, which the first story only “enables.”
This is one of several ways in which the essays aspire to the condition of fiction. Specifically, they aspire to the condition of Ferrante’s fiction, which bristles with “shadow narratives”: Lenù’s novels, for example, paraphrase Lila’s apparently superior diaries. The wished-for ideal appears to be ambiguity and aesthetic unknowability. This means that, even as “The Ferrante Letters” showcases what is good about criticism (keen noticing, ingenious arguments, elegant and forceful expression), it can seem, at times, to disdain its own genre. It’s hard to object to ambition, the flourishes that make this book read like art. And yet it’s worth distinguishing between literary effects that charm or move a reader and those that increase her comprehension of a text. Book reviews aren’t here to make friends, even brilliant ones.
What, exactly, are they here to do? The most provocative claim in “The Ferrante Letters” is that criticism might not only illuminate a text; it might also mimic a work, inhabit its form. This makes for mesmerically reflexive reading, in which the authors, characters in a plot of their own making, gradually become subject to Ferrante’s themes. Consider the essays in the back of the book. Richards, an expert in gender and sexuality studies, explores elisions—the way Lenù overwrites Lila’s dialogue, for instance—in order to think about queer alternatives to the Neapolitan narrative. Chihaya, meanwhile, argues that the sense of flux and turbulence suffusing Ferrante’s work produces a not-quite-enjoyable excitation, which she calls “unpleasure,” and which she connects to our twinned drives for self-assertion and self-effacement, familiar from her own life.
Throughout, there’s a sense that Ferrante’s novels and the letters are composed of the same thematic strata. The outermost layer has something to do with competition and affiliation. Lila and Lenù comprise, as Richards puts it, “an economy of two.” A reader feels the impulse to identify, to pick one at the other’s expense. “Amongst friends,” Richards writes, “what makes you you has to bounce off everyone else in a claustrophobic pool game of limited personalities.” Are you a Lenù or a Lila? Similarly, are you a Sarah, a Merve, a Katherine, or a Jill? I caught myself projecting different aspects of a single critical mind onto the authors: Chihaya as dream logic, Emre as judgment, Richards as counterfactual imagination, Hill as warmth. Obviously, this type of sorting is reductive, and, one layer down, the novels seem to critique it. Ferrante blurs the line between Lila and Lenù. She takes up the fluidity of the self, and the letters implicitly make the same point, offering a vision of the critic’s brain as bustling, porous, crammed with other people.
Recently, I went to see Chihaya, Emre, Hill, and Richards speak at a local bookstore. I arrived late; the room was so full that I could only hear the authors’ voices, mingling but distinct. One of them pointed out that letters assume an audience aside from the specific addressee—the form involves both communication and performance, speaking not only to but through. This feeling, of women using one another’s stories as occasions for self-making, is central to the Neapolitan quartet. What distinguishes the professors from Lila and Lenù is the spirit in which the material is offered. Ferrante’s protagonists are territorial; Chihaya, Emre, Hill, and Richards circulate their words generously. One might chalk this up to civic-mindedness. But it could also reflect the fact that, for these authors, readings are not complete, polished products. Self-dissent can be transcribed, rather than quieted; every sentence is an invitation to press harder. The never-ending-ness of such a practice—of all critical practice, done right—is occasionally paralyzing. Even working on this review, I at times felt myself losing shape and multiplying, as if there were too many of me to start the job and too few of me to finish it. I wandered to my editor’s desk. I wandered back. I bothered my colleague, who was closing a Profile. I wanted feedback on my efforts, which were crawling out of an indeterminate, personal place, but then, I think, I also wanted something simpler: company.


newyorker--2020-02-06--Daily Cartoon: Thursday, February 6th

Daily Cartoon: Thursday, February 6th

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