newyorker--2020-05-24--Ad-Rock Just Wants to Be Friends

Ad-Rock Just Wants to Be Friends

Adam Horovitz was born in Manhattan , in 1966 , and raised there by his mother , the artist Doris Keefe .
His father , the playwright Israel Horovitz , left the family in 1969 .
New York in the seventies was wild and lawless , which suited a young person searching for a tribe .
As a teen-ager , Horovitz played in a New York punk band called the Young and the Useless .
There was no imaginable future in music for him .
It was just a way to pass the time , an excuse to hang out @ @ @ @ @ @ @ same things as he was .
The Young and the Useless would often play shows with another punk band called the Beastie Boys , which consisted at the time of Horovitz ’ s friends Adam Yauch , Michael Diamond , John Berry , and Kate Schellenbach .
In 1982 , as the Beastie Boys were moving from punk to hip-hop , Berry left the band , and Horovitz , who was sixteen , replaced him .
A couple of years later , they asked Schellenbach to leave , as they pursued , in @ @ @ @ @ @ @ “ tough-rapper-guy identity.
” Perhaps they leaned a bit too heavily into this identity .
When the Beastie Boys , now managed by the pioneering hip-hop Svengali Russell Simmons , released their début album , “ Licensed to Ill , ” in 1986 , they were designed to be one-hit wonders .
At the time , it was unthinkable that white rappers might be anything more than a passing fad .
And MCA ( Yauch ) , Mike D ( Diamond ) , and Ad-Rock ( Horovitz ) , as they were known @ @ @ @ @ @ @ male hormones that had sprung arms and legs .
They toured with a twenty-foot-tall inflatable penis and constantly doused one another in beer .
They rapped about partying and chasing girls over their producer Rick Rubin ’ s headbanging , heavy-metal beats .
Their reputation was so rowdy and menacing that the British Parliament actually debated whether or not to allow them into the country .
At the same time , they seemed smug and a bit sarcastic , unconvinced of their own act .
Diamond , Horovitz , and Yauch would spend @ @ @ @ @ @ @ who they actually were .
In 1989 , they released “ Paul ’ s Boutique , ” a surreal masterpiece of sample-era hip-hop .
Three years later , they made “ Check Your Head , ” an equally captivating album in which the former punk rockers essentially taught themselves to play jazz .
By the mid-nineties , the band that was once famous for songs like “ Girls ” and “ Fight for Your Right to Party ” —and who narrowly avoided titling their début “ Don ’ t Be a Faggot ” @ @ @ @ @ @ @ .
In 1996 , they organized the inaugural Tibetan Freedom Concert .
They lamented the “ disrespect to women ” that was rampant in their old tunes .
As Horovitz later explained , “ I ’ d rather be a hypocrite to you than a zombie forever.
” What drew people to the Beastie Boys was the feeling that these turns were a natural part of growing up .
The band that had once embodied the reckless abandon of youth had now become a model for aging deliberately and thoughtfully .
Their music @ @ @ @ @ @ @ , whether it was funk , dub , jazz , electro , or the laid-back vibe of L.A. ’ s Atwater Village .
They collected interesting people into their orbit and gave them their own platforms : the band would start a record label , a magazine , a clothing label , and produce films .
The romance of the Beastie Boys wasn ’ t just that you could make a living by hanging out with your friends .
It was that you could stay with those friends for the long haul and @ @ @ @ @ @ @ , often seen as the band ’ s conscience , died after a three-year battle with cancer .
He was forty-seven .
The two surviving members agreed to never again make music as the Beastie Boys .
In 2018 , Horovitz and Diamond published “ Beastie Boys Book , ” a sprawling memoir with all the jokes , left turns , and cut-and-paste energy of their best songs .
The following year , they performed a series of two-man theatre shows , essentially bringing the book to life .
Spike Jonze , who @ @ @ @ @ @ @ directed those shows , as well as “ Beastie Boys Story , ” which débuted in April , on Apple TV+ .
The documentary draws on Horovitz and Diamond ’ s shows at Brooklyn ’ s Kings Theatre ; one of its most moving moments comes when Horovitz recalls what turned out to be their final performance together as a band , in 2009 , right before Yauch ’ s diagnosis .
It ’ s a rare moment of candor from someone who ’ s kept a relatively low profile in his post-Beastie @ @ @ @ @ @ @ , the artist and musician Kathleen Hanna , now split their time between New York and California .
Recently , I talked to Horovitz over Zoom , as he smoked cigarettes in his back yard , in Pasadena .
Despite having never met me , he knew to make fun of the haircut I had tried to give myself .
Our conversation has been edited and condensed .
I believe I ’ m contractually obligated to ask how your quarantine has been .
You know , freaking out .
I ’ ve flattened @ @ @ @ @ @ @ freak-out , but it ’ s still there .
You ’ re back in Southern California now .
But you first moved there just after “ Licensed to Ill , ” in the late eighties .
After growing up in Manhattan , was there a sense of culture shock when you touched down ?
L.A. , when we came out here , seemed very L.A .
It seemed very “ crystals , ” you know what I mean ?
The super Hollywood thing .
And that was funny .
That shit was hilarious @ @ @ @ @ @ @ what our life was like .
My brother still asks me , when I talk to him , “ You know , so what ’ s going on with your crystals ?
Have you started your kombucha farm or whatever the thing is ?
” I ’ m like , “ Dude it ’ s not like that.
” Although I did just say “ dude.
” Is there any part of you that identifies with being a Californian , other than driving a car ?
When we were writing “ Beastie Boys @ @ @ @ @ @ @ and stuff , I came to the conclusion that I was like Rhoda Morgenstern .
Rhoda was this character on “ The Mary Tyler Moore Show ” —she was the New Yorker who was a fish out of water , living in Minneapolis .
When I was here hanging out , when we were young , I always felt like I was dirty .
Like I was a New Yorker .
Actually , I guess I was kind of dirty .
My favorite time in New York is summertime ’ cause it ’ @ @ @ @ @ @ @ and gross , and everybody just looks so awful .
I love it .
So I don ’ t really feel at peace or at home here .
But it ’ s fucking nice .
I don ’ t know what else to say .
I can have a battle with myself .
Then it ’ s like , you know , it ’ s going to be eighty-four degrees today .
Have you picked up any quarantine rituals ?
We ordered lasagna from this really good Italian place .
I realized I @ @ @ @ @ @ @ bad .
Something that “ Beastie Boys Story ” captures is this desire , when you ’ re young , to be cool .
To a lot of fans , the band came to embody what it meant to be cool—what to listen to , what to wear , how to act .
What did it mean to represent that ?
What made you gravitate toward some people and not others ?
Well , when you ’ re sixteen , you think you ’ re the coolest person in the world , and @ @ @ @ @ @ @ ’ re thinking you ’ re the squarest person in the world .
You just want to be cool , right ?
When you think back on when you were a teen-ager , there ’ s all this elusive stuff that you like .
I remember there was a British guy that used to rent a room from me and my mom and he was , like , in his twenties and he was so cool .
He was British .
He worked at a club .
He would get drunk .
He @ @ @ @ @ @ @ .
So he was the coolest .
I don ’ t know .
We were just really lucky to be around super cool people in New York in the early eighties .

Adam Horovitz was born in Manhattan, in 1966, and raised there by his mother, the artist Doris Keefe. His father, the playwright Israel Horovitz, left the family in 1969. New York in the seventies was wild and lawless, which suited a young person searching for a tribe. As a teen-ager, Horovitz played in a New York punk band called the Young and the Useless. There was no imaginable future in music for him. It was just a way to pass the time, an excuse to hang out and meet people who were into the same things as he was. The Young and the Useless would often play shows with another punk band called the Beastie Boys, which consisted at the time of Horovitz’s friends Adam Yauch, Michael Diamond, John Berry, and Kate Schellenbach. In 1982, as the Beastie Boys were moving from punk to hip-hop, Berry left the band, and Horovitz, who was sixteen, replaced him. A couple of years later, they asked Schellenbach to leave, as they pursued, in Horovitz’s words, a new “tough-rapper-guy identity.”
Perhaps they leaned a bit too heavily into this identity. When the Beastie Boys, now managed by the pioneering hip-hop Svengali Russell Simmons, released their début album, “Licensed to Ill,” in 1986, they were designed to be one-hit wonders. At the time, it was unthinkable that white rappers might be anything more than a passing fad. And MCA (Yauch), Mike D (Diamond), and Ad-Rock (Horovitz), as they were known, came across like a cloud of male hormones that had sprung arms and legs. They toured with a twenty-foot-tall inflatable penis and constantly doused one another in beer. They rapped about partying and chasing girls over their producer Rick Rubin’s headbanging, heavy-metal beats. Their reputation was so rowdy and menacing that the British Parliament actually debated whether or not to allow them into the country.
At the same time, they seemed smug and a bit sarcastic, unconvinced of their own act. Diamond, Horovitz, and Yauch would spend the rest of their careers figuring out who they actually were. In 1989, they released “Paul’s Boutique,” a surreal masterpiece of sample-era hip-hop. Three years later, they made “Check Your Head,” an equally captivating album in which the former punk rockers essentially taught themselves to play jazz. By the mid-nineties, the band that was once famous for songs like “Girls” and “Fight for Your Right to Party”—and who narrowly avoided titling their début “Don’t Be a Faggot”—was speaking out against discrimination and abuse. In 1996, they organized the inaugural Tibetan Freedom Concert. They lamented the “disrespect to women” that was rampant in their old tunes. As Horovitz later explained, “I’d rather be a hypocrite to you than a zombie forever.”
What drew people to the Beastie Boys was the feeling that these turns were a natural part of growing up. The band that had once embodied the reckless abandon of youth had now become a model for aging deliberately and thoughtfully. Their music was always chock-full of their latest discoveries, whether it was funk, dub, jazz, electro, or the laid-back vibe of L.A.’s Atwater Village. They collected interesting people into their orbit and gave them their own platforms: the band would start a record label, a magazine, a clothing label, and produce films. The romance of the Beastie Boys wasn’t just that you could make a living by hanging out with your friends. It was that you could stay with those friends for the long haul and grow together.
In 2012, Yauch, often seen as the band’s conscience, died after a three-year battle with cancer. He was forty-seven. The two surviving members agreed to never again make music as the Beastie Boys. In 2018, Horovitz and Diamond published “Beastie Boys Book,” a sprawling memoir with all the jokes, left turns, and cut-and-paste energy of their best songs. The following year, they performed a series of two-man theatre shows, essentially bringing the book to life. Spike Jonze, who first met the band in 1991, directed those shows, as well as “Beastie Boys Story,” which débuted in April, on Apple TV+.
The documentary draws on Horovitz and Diamond’s shows at Brooklyn’s Kings Theatre; one of its most moving moments comes when Horovitz recalls what turned out to be their final performance together as a band, in 2009, right before Yauch’s diagnosis. It’s a rare moment of candor from someone who’s kept a relatively low profile in his post-Beastie Boys life. Horovitz and his wife, the artist and musician Kathleen Hanna, now split their time between New York and California. Recently, I talked to Horovitz over Zoom, as he smoked cigarettes in his back yard, in Pasadena. Despite having never met me, he knew to make fun of the haircut I had tried to give myself. Our conversation has been edited and condensed.
I believe I’m contractually obligated to ask how your quarantine has been.
You know, freaking out. I’ve flattened the curve a bit, of my freak-out, but it’s still there.
You’re back in Southern California now. But you first moved there just after “Licensed to Ill,” in the late eighties. After growing up in Manhattan, was there a sense of culture shock when you touched down?
L.A., when we came out here, seemed very L.A. It seemed very “crystals,” you know what I mean? The super Hollywood thing. And that was funny. That shit was hilarious, ’cause that’s not what our life was like. My brother still asks me, when I talk to him, “You know, so what’s going on with your crystals? Have you started your kombucha farm or whatever the thing is?” I’m, like, “Dude it’s not like that.” Although I did just say “dude.”
Is there any part of you that identifies with being a Californian, other than driving a car?
When we were writing “Beastie Boys Book,” and thinking about L.A. and stuff, I came to the conclusion that I was like Rhoda Morgenstern. Rhoda was this character on “The Mary Tyler Moore Show”—she was the New Yorker who was a fish out of water, living in Minneapolis. When I was here hanging out, when we were young, I always felt like I was dirty. Like I was a New Yorker. Actually, I guess I was kind of dirty. My favorite time in New York is summertime ’cause it’s hot, it’s sticky and gross, and everybody just looks so awful. I love it.
So I don’t really feel at peace or at home here. But it’s fucking nice. I don’t know what else to say. I can have a battle with myself. Then it’s like, you know, it’s going to be eighty-four degrees today.
Have you picked up any quarantine rituals?
We ordered lasagna from this really good Italian place. I realized I’m a terrible cook. Really bad.
Something that “Beastie Boys Story” captures is this desire, when you’re young, to be cool. To a lot of fans, the band came to embody what it meant to be cool—what to listen to, what to wear, how to act. What did it mean to represent that? What made you gravitate toward some people and not others?
Well, when you’re sixteen, you think you’re the coolest person in the world, and, at the same time, you’re thinking you’re the squarest person in the world. You just want to be cool, right? When you think back on when you were a teen-ager, there’s all this elusive stuff that you like. I remember there was a British guy that used to rent a room from me and my mom and he was, like, in his twenties and he was so cool. He was British. He worked at a club. He would get drunk. He smoked cigarettes. He was into music. So he was the coolest. I don’t know. We were just really lucky to be around super cool people in New York in the early eighties.
Did you realize at the time how unique it was—your upbringing, what you were exposed to?
When you’re a teen-ager, whatever’s happening in your home life or whatever, good or bad, that’s normal. I had a weird childhood and that was normal. You don’t think about bigger-picture stuff when you’re a kid.
How about when you went on your first big tour and saw what life was like elsewhere?
Oh, it seemed like, you know, America. Like, we left New York—that was noticeable. That we had left the city. We’d be in, you know, no offense to wherever, but we were in Dallas and we were, like, Whoa, this is not New York City. Everything else seemed quaint and small-town, you know?


newyorker--2020-05-24--The Coronavirus Is Exposing Wall Street’s Reckless Gamble on Bad Debt

In January of 2019 , Mark Carney , the governor of the Bank of England , appeared before a House of Commons committee to discuss global threats to financial stability .
At that time , the U.S. unemployment rate was below four per cent , the gross domestic product was growing steadily , and Donald Trump was busy boasting about “ the greatest economy ever.
” But , despite these favorable statistics , staffers at the bank had identified a potentially serious problem on the horizon : a rapid buildup of corporate debt , which was associated with a potentially @ @ @ @ @ @ @ compared what was happening in the corporate-debt markets to the subprime-mortgage boom that culminated in the great financial crisis of 2008 and 2009 .
Citing the rise of “ covenant lite ” loans that placed very few restrictions on corporate borrowers , Carney said , “ The subprime analogy isn ’ t perfect , but it ’ s on the road to ‘ no doc ’ underwriting , which happened eleven years ago.
” Carney ’ s warning didn ’ t make a big splash in this country .
On Wall Street , @ @ @ @ @ @ @ been some excesses in the corporate-debt market , and that credit standards had slipped .
Decades ago , blue-chip corporations jealously guarded their top-notch credit ratings : they were wary of issuing too much debt .
But , in a new era of finance-driven capitalism , companies like American Airlines , Hertz , and Staples borrowed heavily to finance acquisitions , stock buybacks , and , in some cases , leverage buyouts sponsored by private-equity companies .
Between the fourth quarter of 2009 and the fourth quarter of 2019 , the total debt @ @ @ @ @ @ @ trillion to $ 10.1 trillion , according to figures from the Federal Reserve Board .
Much of this new lending came in the form of issuing bonds , but newer forms of credit also proliferated .
Between 2007 and 2019 , the value of outstanding “ leveraged loans , ” which are syndicated loans extended to companies that credit agencies rate below investment-grade , rose from $ 554 billion to $ 1.2 trillion , according to S & P Global .
In turn , many of these leveraged loans were used to create @ @ @ @ @ @ @ These complex and opaque products are close cousins of C.D.O.s—collateralized debt obligations—which played a big role in the subprime boom and bust .
In creating both C.D.O.s and C.L.O.s , financial alchemists on Wall Street took a pool of sub-investment-grade loans and sliced and diced them into various “ tranches , ” some of which were then given triple-A ratings and marketed to investors as a source of safe and regular yields .
By the end of 2019 , there was about seven hundred billion dollars ’ worth of C.L.O.s in existence , @ @ @ @ @ @ @ these C.L.O.s are directly associated with private-equity partnerships , which benefitted in at least two ways from their growth .
Corporations sponsored by private-equity companies often used leverage loans to finance buyouts of their stockholders at very high multiples of earnings and cash flow .
Some leading private-equity companies also got involved in the business of organizing and managing the C.L.O.s , where many leveraged loans ended up .
According to CreditFlux , a news service that covers C.L.O.s and credit funds , the Carlyle Group and GSO Capital Partners , a subsidiary @ @ @ @ @ @ @ of the three biggest C.L.O .
managers .
Apollo , Kohlberg Kravis Roberts , and CVC Partners are also prominent players .
Given their ownership of many highly leveraged companies and their central role in the C.L.O .
industry , private-equity firms obviously have a huge financial stake in preventing a debt blowup .
As long as the economy was doing well , the debate about the potential dangers of excessive corporate debt remained theoretical .
With interest rates at low levels , most corporate lenders , even highly leveraged ones , didn @ @ @ @ @ @ @ interest payments or rolling over their debts .
Default rates remained low , and some policymakers assured themselves that , even if they rose , the financial system was strong enough to sustain any potential losses .
“ Business debt has clearly reached a level that should give businesses and investors reason to pause and reflect , ” Jerome Powell , the chairman of the Federal Reserve , said , in a speech last May .
“ However , the parallels to the mortgage boom that led to the Global Financial Crisis are @ @ @ @ @ @ @ the financial system today appears strong enough to handle potential business-sector losses , which was manifestly not the case a decade ago with subprime mortgages.
” In the second half of last year and the first two months of this year , the corporate-credit boom continued .
In February alone , thirty billion dollars in C.L.O.s were issued .
But , as the coronavirus spread and widespread shutdowns began , everything changed abruptly .
As many corporations faced the prospect of a big fall in their revenues , lenders and investors in debt @ @ @ @ @ @ @ would be able to meet their financial obligations .
Credit spreads , which are a market measure of risk , widened dramatically , and the most speculative parts of the corporate-debt markets practically seized up .
Issuance of leveraged loans and C.L.O.s fell precipitously .
Where previously highly indebted companies had been able to raise practically any amount of money against practically any collateral , they suddenly had great difficulty raising any .
“ The leveraged-loan market was screaming-hot in January and February , and then , suddenly , in the course of @ @ @ @ @ @ @ up , ” Will Caiger-Smith , who oversees coverage of leveraged finance at Debtwire , a financial-news and data service , told me .
In February , about thirty billion dollars ’ worth of C.L.O.s were issued .
In March , the figure fell to three billion .
( In April , it was four billion . )
“ Basically , ” Caiger-Smith said , “ the pandemic has put the breaks on new issuance.
” It has also pushed many highly indebted firms toward insolvency .
Already , some well-known retailers , @ @ @ @ @ @ @ , have filed for Chapter 11 bankruptcy protection from their creditors .
( Both companies had loaded their balance sheets with debt in private-equity deals . )
These highly publicized filings are just the most visible sign of the widespread distress in the more speculative regions of the credit markets .
In April , there were eleven leveraged-loan defaults , which is “ the most ever during a month , exceeding the previous record of 10 in October 2009 , ” a recent report from S & P Global noted .
With “ @ @ @ @ @ @ @ pandemic , market sources expect more defaults ahead , ” the report went on .
The credit-ratings agency has predicted that leveraged-loan defaults could hit ten per cent by the end of this year .
So far , at least , there hasn ’ t been a blowup in the C.L.O .
market to match what happened to the C.D.O .
market in 2007 and 2008 .
But , as the number of defaults rises and the ratings agencies issue downgrades for large numbers of the leveraged loans that got sliced and diced @ @ @ @ @ @ @ pressures on these opaque vehicles are growing .
In a recent interview with the Financial Times , Matthew Mish , a credit analyst at UBS , said , “ CLOs and the loans underpinning them are ground zero in terms of the vulnerability of this crisis.
” If your recent financial reading has been confined to reports about the stock market , you won ’ t have heard much about corporate debt .
Ever since March 23rd , when the Fed announced that it would use its “ full range of authorities ” @ @ @ @ @ @ @ to American households and businesses , ” many investors have been assuming that the threat of a serious debt crisis is behind us .
And , as far as some parts of the credit markets go , that might be correct .

In January of 2019, Mark Carney, the governor of the Bank of England, appeared before a House of Commons committee to discuss global threats to financial stability. At that time, the U.S. unemployment rate was below four per cent, the gross domestic product was growing steadily, and Donald Trump was busy boasting about “the greatest economy ever.” But, despite these favorable statistics, staffers at the bank had identified a potentially serious problem on the horizon: a rapid buildup of corporate debt, which was associated with a potentially alarming decline in lending standards. Carney compared what was happening in the corporate-debt markets to the subprime-mortgage boom that culminated in the great financial crisis of 2008 and 2009. Citing the rise of “covenant lite” loans that placed very few restrictions on corporate borrowers, Carney said, “The subprime analogy isn’t perfect, but it’s on the road to ‘no doc’ underwriting, which happened eleven years ago.”
Carney’s warning didn’t make a big splash in this country. On Wall Street, it was widely acknowledged that there had been some excesses in the corporate-debt market, and that credit standards had slipped. Decades ago, blue-chip corporations jealously guarded their top-notch credit ratings: they were wary of issuing too much debt. But, in a new era of finance-driven capitalism, companies like American Airlines, Hertz, and Staples borrowed heavily to finance acquisitions, stock buybacks, and, in some cases, leverage buyouts sponsored by private-equity companies. Between the fourth quarter of 2009 and the fourth quarter of 2019, the total debt of non-financial corporations rose from $6.1 trillion to $10.1 trillion, according to figures from the Federal Reserve Board.
Much of this new lending came in the form of issuing bonds, but newer forms of credit also proliferated. Between 2007 and 2019, the value of outstanding “leveraged loans,” which are syndicated loans extended to companies that credit agencies rate below investment-grade, rose from $554 billion to $1.2 trillion, according to S & P Global. In turn, many of these leveraged loans were used to create collateralized loan obligations, or C.L.O.s. These complex and opaque products are close cousins of C.D.O.s—collateralized debt obligations—which played a big role in the subprime boom and bust. In creating both C.D.O.s and C.L.O.s, financial alchemists on Wall Street took a pool of sub-investment-grade loans and sliced and diced them into various “tranches,” some of which were then given triple-A ratings and marketed to investors as a source of safe and regular yields. By the end of 2019, there was about seven hundred billion dollars’ worth of C.L.O.s in existence, according to industry estimates.
Many of these C.L.O.s are directly associated with private-equity partnerships, which benefitted in at least two ways from their growth. Corporations sponsored by private-equity companies often used leverage loans to finance buyouts of their stockholders at very high multiples of earnings and cash flow. Some leading private-equity companies also got involved in the business of organizing and managing the C.L.O.s, where many leveraged loans ended up. According to CreditFlux, a news service that covers C.L.O.s and credit funds, the Carlyle Group and GSO Capital Partners, a subsidiary of the Blackstone Group, are two of the three biggest C.L.O. managers. Apollo, Kohlberg Kravis Roberts, and CVC Partners are also prominent players. Given their ownership of many highly leveraged companies and their central role in the C.L.O. industry, private-equity firms obviously have a huge financial stake in preventing a debt blowup.
As long as the economy was doing well, the debate about the potential dangers of excessive corporate debt remained theoretical. With interest rates at low levels, most corporate lenders, even highly leveraged ones, didn’t have much trouble meeting their interest payments or rolling over their debts. Default rates remained low, and some policymakers assured themselves that, even if they rose, the financial system was strong enough to sustain any potential losses. “Business debt has clearly reached a level that should give businesses and investors reason to pause and reflect,” Jerome Powell, the chairman of the Federal Reserve, said, in a speech last May. “However, the parallels to the mortgage boom that led to the Global Financial Crisis are not fully convincing. Most importantly, the financial system today appears strong enough to handle potential business-sector losses, which was manifestly not the case a decade ago with subprime mortgages.”
In the second half of last year and the first two months of this year, the corporate-credit boom continued. In February alone, thirty billion dollars in C.L.O.s were issued. But, as the coronavirus spread and widespread shutdowns began, everything changed abruptly. As many corporations faced the prospect of a big fall in their revenues, lenders and investors in debt products reassessed the probability that these firms would be able to meet their financial obligations. Credit spreads, which are a market measure of risk, widened dramatically, and the most speculative parts of the corporate-debt markets practically seized up. Issuance of leveraged loans and C.L.O.s fell precipitously. Where previously highly indebted companies had been able to raise practically any amount of money against practically any collateral, they suddenly had great difficulty raising any.
“The leveraged-loan market was screaming-hot in January and February, and then, suddenly, in the course of a couple of weeks, everything froze up,” Will Caiger-Smith, who oversees coverage of leveraged finance at Debtwire, a financial-news and data service, told me. In February, about thirty billion dollars’ worth of C.L.O.s were issued. In March, the figure fell to three billion. (In April, it was four billion.) “Basically,” Caiger-Smith said, “the pandemic has put the brakes on new issuance.”
It has also pushed many highly indebted firms toward insolvency. Already, some well-known retailers, including J. Crew and Neiman Marcus, have filed for Chapter 11 bankruptcy protection from their creditors. (Both companies had loaded their balance sheets with debt in private-equity deals.) These highly publicized filings are just the most visible sign of the widespread distress in the more speculative regions of the credit markets. In April, there were eleven leveraged-loan defaults, which is “the most ever during a month, exceeding the previous record of 10 in October 2009,” a recent report from S & P Global noted. With “grim forward indicators thanks to the Covid-19 pandemic, market sources expect more defaults ahead,” the report went on. The credit-ratings agency has predicted that leveraged-loan defaults could hit ten per cent by the end of this year.
So far, at least, there hasn’t been a blowup in the C.L.O. market to match what happened to the C.D.O. market in 2007 and 2008. But, as the number of defaults rises and the ratings agencies issue downgrades for large numbers of the leveraged loans that got sliced and diced to go into the C.L.O.s, the pressures on these opaque vehicles are growing. In a recent interview with the Financial Times, Matthew Mish, a credit analyst at UBS, said, “CLOs and the loans underpinning them are ground zero in terms of the vulnerability of this crisis.”
If your recent financial reading has been confined to reports about the stock market, you won’t have heard much about corporate debt. Ever since March 23rd, when the Fed announced that it would use its “full range of authorities” to maintain “the flow of credit to American households and businesses,” many investors have been assuming that the threat of a serious debt crisis is behind us. And, as far as some parts of the credit markets go, that might be correct.
In late March and early April, the Fed said it would use its digital printing press to start purchasing corporate bonds, and also team up with the Treasury Department to lend directly to corporations that were having trouble raising money. This was the first time since the great financial crisis of 2008 that the central bank had invoked its emergency powers to lend to non-banking companies. After the Fed’s announcements, the investment-grade bond market and the upper reaches of the junk-bond market both staged impressive recoveries. As credit spreads narrowed, even some highly leveraged companies that were hit hard by the shutdowns, including Boeing, Carnival Cruise Lines, and Delta Air Lines, were able to place large bond issues. The money these companies raised—twenty-five billion dollars, in Boeing’s case—greatly improved their chances of surviving the pandemic.
As investors’ confidence returned, the prices of leveraged loans also partially rebounded. But this doesn’t mean that all highly indebted companies are safe. The Fed extended a lifeline to investment-grade corporations and to companies, such as Ford, that were investment-grade before the pandemic reached the United States and have since seen their debt downgraded. But it held off from offering direct assistance to the most risky and highly leveraged companies, many of which rely on leveraged loans and the C.L.O. market that undergirds it. Those firms were left to fend for themselves and raise funds from private sources as best they could. “By supporting the credit market broadly, the Fed has benefitted the leveraged-loan market indirectly,” Caiger-Smith, of Debtwire, noted. “It hasn’t, however, solved the C.L.O. problem.”
Credit-ratings agencies like Moody’s and S & P, meanwhile, are continuing to downgrade many of the loans that underpin C.L.O.s. This potentially creates a dangerous situation. Many C.L.O.s are supposed to maintain a certain percentage of higher-rated loans. If they can’t do this, insurance companies and other holders of certain C.L.O. tranches may be forced to sell, which could create more instability. Eventually, some C.L.O.s could start to unravel, much like subprime C.D.O.s unravelled in 2008. “If we are right, we are only in the fourth inning of downgrades,” UBS’s Matt Mish told me, “and there is going to be more downward pressure.”


newyorker--2020-05-24--Will the Coronavirus Be the End of the Communion Cup?

It is an everyday miracle , mysterious and beguiling , and it is replicated several thousand times over , at all hours , in churches that are beautiful and churches that are not .
The priest consecrates the bread , and then he consecrates the wine , and there on the altar the meal becomes the body and blood of Christ .
Then , just as Jesus broke bread and shared wine with the apostles at the Last Supper , believers rise from the pews , receive the host , eat it , and , one by one , drink @ @ @ @ @ @ @ to the same cup .
That last part doesn ’ t happen these days .
Churches are closed and services have been moved online , for one , but the Centers for Disease Control and Prevention has also advised against it .
Before the pandemic , William Ouweleen had drunk from such a cup countless times .
A vintner in the Finger Lakes region of New York , he used to attend mass and receive communion at St. Matthew Church , in Livonia , where the Precious Blood in the chalice had been @ @ @ @ @ @ @ made .
Ouweleen runs a winery named O-Neh-Da , which makes sacramental wine that churches use to celebrate the Eucharist .
The winery , which is next to Hemlock Lake— “ o-neh-da ” is the Seneca word for “ hemlock ” —is the go-to for Catholics in the Northeast .
When Pope Francis visited New York City , in 2015 , he used O-Neh-Da wine for a mass at Madison Square Garden .
In contrast to regular wine , which might be made with extra yeast , tannin powders , and flavorings , @ @ @ @ @ @ @ from the fruit of the grape , pure and incorrupt , not mixed with other substances , ” according to Vatican instructions .
So , last fall , Ouweleen , a self-described “ hippie ” who is fifty-eight and wears his hair in dreadlocks , did what he does every fall : he harvested forty acres ’ worth of grapes , trucked them to his winery , crushed them , and allowed them to ferment with no additives .
( Except , that is , for some added sulfites , just before bottling—a @ @ @ @ @ @ @ By springtime , he had fifty thousand gallons of wine in his cellar .
This time of year , he would usually be filling fifteen hundred wine bottles per day , in order to deliver them to churches in New York and Pennsylvania , and to religious-goods stores as far away as Florida and Guam .
But he isn ’ t doing that this year , because it would mean purchasing glass bottles to fill with wine that might not sell .
Ouweleen doesn ’ t know when the churches will reopen .
@ @ @ @ @ @ @ houses of worship “ essential ” and asked all governors to allow them “ to open right now , for this weekend , ” but , in New York , houses of worship can only fully reopen in the last phase of the state ’ s four-part reopening plan , along with stadiums and amusement parks .
Ouweleen is also not sure that , when they do reopen , they will continue to serve consecrated wine , which , in most of the country ’ s Catholic churches , is drunk from a @ @ @ @ @ @ @ congregation .
So he decided to ask them .
Last month , Ouweleen typed up a letter to the bishop in Albany , to ask if he had any foresight on the future of sacramental wine .
A week later , still awaiting a reply , Ouweleen broadened his query , writing to more than a thousand parishes—all customers of his—to ask if they plan to distribute the Eucharist by chalice , once church services resume .
In his letter to the priests , Ouweleen explained that O-Neh-Da had survived—by God ’ s @ @ @ @ @ @ @ and Prohibition , but , “ the Good Lord helps those who help themselves , so we are taking an active role in planning for the other side of this pandemic.
” Ouweleen figured that the wine in his cellar would last for about a year before its taste started to fade .
“ I ’ ll know what to do with that wine when I know what to do , ” he said .
“ This graceful hand of the unseen has been very present in my life , and I respect @ @ @ @ @ @ @ continued checking in on his vineyard .
By September , his vines will have produced two hundred tons of grapes , which will yield another forty thousand gallons of wine .
It was getting warm , and the vines were about to bud .
There are three major sacramental wineries in the United States : Mont La Salle and Cribari , both in California , and O-Neh-Da , in New York , which is the smallest and the oldest .
Established in 1872 by Bishop Bernard McQuaid , the first bishop of Rochester @ @ @ @ @ @ @ , and , later , by monks .
In 2002 , it was purchased by Steven Goldstone , who ’ d recently retired as the C.E.O .
of RJR Nabisco , the food and tobacco conglomerate , and who ’ d seen a notice in the Wall Street Journal advertising a winery for sale in the Finger Lakes .
( Goldstone , a private pilot , liked to fly over the region in his plane . )
In 2007 , there was another ad—this time , in the PennySaver , for a rental @ @ @ @ @ @ @ property , which would cost eight hundred and fifty dollars a month .
Ouweleen responded to it ; he and his wife , Lisa Woodhams , and his stepson , Jacob , were facing eviction from their home in Conesus .
The family was continuously hard up—Ouweleen was the manager of an organic market that was trying ( and failing ) to compete with Wegmans—and they were searching for a gentler , more Christ-like life .
( They wrote a prayer : “ Land with a view / a ridge line or two @ @ @ @ @ @ @ maintenance kept low / sanctuary where / we reap what we sow.
” “ Divinity , ” it concluded , “ make it so.
” ) The rental , an old winemaker ’ s house built in the twenties , with three bedrooms , and a lot of bats in the attic , felt fated .
The family moved in and learned , upon their arrival , that the winery on the grounds wasn ’ t doing too well .
( They had regular encounters with the winemaker , who kept knocking on @ @ @ @ @ @ @ any spare trash bags or light bulbs . )
Ouweleen was also looking for a new job , so he called Goldstone and told him , “ I think I ’ m supposed to be here to help you with this winery.
” Goldstone flew north to meet with Ouweleen , who had prepared a PowerPoint presentation on what he described as the brand ’ s “ natural assets , ” such as its long , almost romantic history of sequestered religious men ministering to its grapes .
Ouweleen had no experience in @ @ @ @ @ @ @ , “ It ’ s not like I had a long line of prestigious winemakers waiting to be interviewed for the job.
” Goldstone decided , of Ouweleen and his family , that “ they belong there.
” The two men worked out an arrangement in which Ouweleen would run O-Neh-Dah .
A year later , Woodhams joined him .
( She ’ d been bartending and waiting tables until she was sure that this sacramental winery gig was going to work out . )
Together with one other full-time employee and several @ @ @ @ @ @ @ the work of a hundred unpaid monks .
Ouweleen plays Reggae for the fermenting grapes— “ conscious music , ” he said , “ to encourage them ” —and tastes and adjusts the wine .
He also fixes the bottle-capper , and the crusher , and the labeller , and the filler , and the air-compressor , and the tractor , when they break .
Woodhams pays the bills , answers the phones , puts together wholesale orders , and coördinates the family ’ s appearances at wine tastings .
Friends help them @ @ @ @ @ @ @ s like if a Catholic school lost all their nuns , ” Ouweleen said .
“ It ’ s noble but unprofitable work.
” This is true even when there ’ s no pandemic .
( O-Neh-Da charges about eighty dollars for a case of twelve bottles of sacramental wine , and the average church customer orders twenty cases of wine a year . )
But it has been a reliable source of income , which , for Ouweleen , feels nothing short of miraculous .
In the spring , when the grapevines @ @ @ @ @ @ @ loudest in the mornings and the woodpeckers are busiest in the evenings .
In the fall , when the grapes are harvested—first the Rosette , then the Delaware—the lake reflects the orange of the trees .
Every year is different but also the same .
The family has been able to count on it .

Many Catholic churches have decided to stop offering consecrated wine. Photograph from Alamy
It is an everyday miracle, mysterious and beguiling, and it is replicated several thousand times over, at all hours, in churches that are beautiful and churches that are not. The priest consecrates the bread, and then he consecrates the wine, and there on the altar the meal becomes the body and blood of Christ. Then, just as Jesus broke bread and shared wine with the apostles at the Last Supper, believers rise from the pews, receive the host, eat it, and, one by one, drink the Precious Blood, putting their lips to the same cup.
That last part doesn’t happen these days. Churches are closed and services have been moved online, for one, but the Centers for Disease Control and Prevention has also advised against it. Before the pandemic, William Ouweleen had drunk from such a cup countless times. A vintner in the Finger Lakes region of New York, he used to attend mass and receive communion at St. Matthew Church, in Livonia, where the Precious Blood in the chalice had been a blush-colored wine that he’d made. Ouweleen runs a winery named O-Neh-Da, which makes sacramental wine that churches use to celebrate the Eucharist. The winery, which is next to Hemlock Lake—“o-neh-da” is the Seneca word for “hemlock”—is the go-to for Catholics in the Northeast. When Pope Francis visited New York City, in 2015, he used O-Neh-Da wine for a mass at Madison Square Garden.
In contrast to regular wine, which might be made with extra yeast, tannin powders, and flavorings, Communion wine must be “natural, from the fruit of the grape, pure and incorrupt, not mixed with other substances,” according to Vatican instructions. So, last fall, Ouweleen, a self-described “hippie” who is fifty-eight and wears his hair in dreadlocks, did what he does every fall: he harvested forty acres’ worth of grapes, trucked them to his winery, crushed them, and allowed them to ferment with no additives. (Except, that is, for some added sulfites, just before bottling—a preservative sanctioned by the Vatican.)
By springtime, he had fifty thousand gallons of wine in his cellar. This time of year, he would usually be filling fifteen hundred wine bottles per day, in order to deliver them to churches in New York and Pennsylvania, and to religious-goods stores as far away as Florida and Guam. But he isn’t doing that this year, because it would mean purchasing glass bottles to fill with wine that might not sell. Ouweleen doesn’t know when the churches will reopen. This past Friday, President Trump deemed houses of worship “essential” and asked all governors to allow them “to open right now, for this weekend,” but, in New York, houses of worship can only fully reopen in the last phase of the state’s four-part reopening plan, along with stadiums and amusement parks. Ouweleen is also not sure that, when they do reopen, they will continue to serve consecrated wine, which, in most of the country’s Catholic churches, is drunk from a chalice that is shared by the entire congregation.
So he decided to ask them. Last month, Ouweleen typed up a letter to the bishop in Albany, to ask if he had any foresight on the future of sacramental wine. A week later, still awaiting a reply, Ouweleen broadened his query, writing to more than a thousand parishes—all customers of his—to ask if they plan to distribute the Eucharist by chalice, once church services resume. In his letter to the priests, Ouweleen explained that O-Neh-Da had survived—by God’s grace—several wars, the Great Depression, and Prohibition, but, “the Good Lord helps those who help themselves, so we are taking an active role in planning for the other side of this pandemic.”
Ouweleen figured that the wine in his cellar would last for about a year before its taste started to fade. “I’ll know what to do with that wine when I know what to do,” he said. “This graceful hand of the unseen has been very present in my life, and I respect that.” In the meantime, he continued checking in on his vineyard. By September, his vines will have produced two hundred tons of grapes, which will yield another forty thousand gallons of wine. It was getting warm, and the vines were about to bud.
There are three major sacramental wineries in the United States: Mont La Salle and Cribari, both in California, and O-Neh-Da, in New York, which is the smallest and the oldest. Established in 1872 by Bishop Bernard McQuaid, the first bishop of Rochester, O-Neh-Da was originally run by seminarians, and, later, by monks. In 2002, it was purchased by Steven Goldstone, who’d recently retired as the C.E.O. of RJR Nabisco, the food and tobacco conglomerate, and who’d seen a notice in the Wall Street Journal advertising a winery for sale in the Finger Lakes. (Goldstone, a private pilot, liked to fly over the region in his plane.)
In 2007, there was another ad—this time, in the PennySaver, for a rental house on the O-Neh-Da Winery’s property, which would cost eight hundred and fifty dollars a month. Ouweleen responded to it; he and his wife, Lisa Woodhams, and his stepson, Jacob, were facing eviction from their home in Conesus. The family was continuously hard up—Ouweleen was the manager of an organic market that was trying (and failing) to compete with Wegmans—and they were searching for a gentler, more Christ-like life. (They wrote a prayer: “Land with a view / a ridge line or two … a place to grow / with maintenance kept low / sanctuary where / we reap what we sow.” “Divinity,” it concluded, “make it so.”) The rental, an old winemaker’s house built in the twenties, with three bedrooms, and a lot of bats in the attic, felt fated.
The family moved in and learned, upon their arrival, that the winery on the grounds wasn’t doing too well. (They had regular encounters with the winemaker, who kept knocking on their door, asking if they had any spare trash bags or light bulbs.) Ouweleen was also looking for a new job, so he called Goldstone and told him, “I think I’m supposed to be here to help you with this winery.”
Goldstone flew north to meet with Ouweleen, who had prepared a PowerPoint presentation on what he described as the brand’s “natural assets,” such as its long, almost romantic history of sequestered religious men ministering to its grapes. Ouweleen had no experience in wine-making, but, Goldstone said later, “It’s not like I had a long line of prestigious winemakers waiting to be interviewed for the job.” Goldstone decided, of Ouweleen and his family, that “they belong there.” The two men worked out an arrangement in which Ouweleen would run O-Neh-Dah. A year later, Woodhams joined him. (She’d been bartending and waiting tables until she was sure that this sacramental winery gig was going to work out.)
Together with one other full-time employee and several part-time staff, Ouweleen and Woodhams do the work of a hundred unpaid monks. Ouweleen plays Reggae for the fermenting grapes—“conscious music,” he said, “to encourage them”—and tastes and adjusts the wine. He also fixes the bottle-capper, and the crusher, and the labeller, and the filler, and the air-compressor, and the tractor, when they break. Woodhams pays the bills, answers the phones, puts together wholesale orders, and coördinates the family’s appearances at wine tastings. Friends help them bottle the wine.
“It’s like if a Catholic school lost all their nuns,” Ouweleen said. “It’s noble but unprofitable work.” This is true even when there’s no pandemic. (O-Neh-Da charges about eighty dollars for a case of twelve bottles of sacramental wine, and the average church customer orders twenty cases of wine a year.) But it has been a reliable source of income, which, for Ouweleen, feels nothing short of miraculous. In the spring, when the grapevines begin to sprout, the robins are loudest in the mornings and the woodpeckers are busiest in the evenings. In the fall, when the grapes are harvested—first the Rosette, then the Delaware—the lake reflects the orange of the trees. Every year is different but also the same. The family has been able to count on it.
And Ouweleen believes that he has finally found his vocation. “The mystery of wine becoming the Blood of Christ is lost in the modern day,” he said. “I’m out there spreading the good news, and I think it comes more powerfully from the lay people sometimes, rather than from the priest, whose job it is to say it.” Some weekends, when Ouweleen is on the road—he likes to hand-deliver wine cases to his customers, either in a beverage truck or in his 1993 Suburban—he’ll drop in on a new church for mass. When he first sits down in the pew, he’s not always sure whether the church is an O-Neh-Da customer. Then it comes time for communion, and when he sips the Precious Blood, he can tell right away. “I’ll think, ‘Oh that’s not too good!’ ” he said. “So, of course, I follow up with a sales call.”
The sacraments, wrote the French mystic Simone Weil, “involve a certain kind of contact with God, a contact mysterious but real.” How this mysterious contact is made varies by Christian denomination: most use wine, whereas others use substitutes, and though many use a communal chalice, some have taken to giving congregants their own cups. The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints uses water, and, in 1912, they moved toward serving it in individual cups, having noticed that, when the communal cup reached the back of the church, it was often filled with hair. The Mormons doubled down on this directive after the 1918 flu. Methodists and Presbyterians may also use their own cups (and grape juice).
But while those denominations believe that communion is symbolic of Christ’s presence, Catholics believe in the “Real Presence,” by which the bread and the wine become his body and blood. For Catholics, disposable cups do not seem worthy of Christ’s blood; the Vatican suggests that vessels be made of “precious metal.” A church could, ostensibly, give a chalice to each congregant—or adopt a “bring-your-own-chalice” policy—but, even if this were feasible, individual chalices may present other challenges. “We believe that the wine becomes the blood of Christ,” said Father Andrew Menke, who directs the Secretariat of Divine Worship at the United States Conference of Catholic Bishops (U.S.C.C.B.). “So the priest cleans the chalice very carefully. He doesn’t want drops going down the drain. He doesn’t want Christ’s blood in the sewer.”
In “A Portrait of the Artist as a Young Man,” Stephen Dedalus wonders, “Why was the sacrament of the eucharist instituted under the two species of bread and wine if Jesus Christ be present body and blood, soul and divinity, in the bread alone and in the wine alone?” A valid question. Technically, Catholic churches do not need to offer their congregants the Precious Blood. Only the priest must celebrate as Jesus instructed, with both wine and bread; the laity receives the entirety of Christ by consuming either one, and for centuries they typically received just the bread. But, in 1963, the Second Vatican Council resolved that the congregation should also receive the Precious Blood, calling it a “more perfect form of participation.” Now it was clear, Judith Marie Kubicki, a retired professor of theology at Fordham, said, that “the laity is not the audience—they are the participants.” It was also just practical, Kimberly Belcher, a professor of theology at Notre Dame, said, noting that both alcoholics and the gluten-free could now receive communion.


newyorker--2020-05-24--Fauci Urges Trump to Remain on Golf Course Until Pandemic Is Over

WASHINGTON ( The Borowitz Report ) —Sharply disagreeing with critics of Donald J. Trump ’ s weekend visit to the Trump National Golf Club , Dr. Anthony Fauci has urged Trump to remain on the golf course until the pandemic is over .
“ The people who are giving you a hard time about your golf trip are just haters , ” Fauci told Trump on Sunday .
“ It ’ s in the best interest of everyone in the country that you keep golfing , Mr. President.
” Trump was reportedly surprised by the doctor ’ s words of @ @ @ @ @ @ @ had limited the President ’ s ability to communicate with Fauci , the Centers for Disease Control , and other scientists involved in the coronavirus response .
“ It ’ s been tough without you , but we are doing the best we can , ” Fauci said .
“ After all the hard work you ’ ve done , you deserve months and months and months of golfing.
” Fauci also recommended that Trump throw away his phone , stop talking to the press , and not tell anyone about the great @ @ @ @ @ @ @ about using lawn fertilizer to protect people from the coronavirus .

WASHINGTON (The Borowitz Report)—Sharply disagreeing with critics of Donald J. Trump’s weekend visit to the Trump National Golf Club, Dr. Anthony Fauci has urged Trump to remain on the golf course until the pandemic is over.
“The people who are giving you a hard time about your golf trip are just haters,” Fauci told Trump on Sunday. “It’s in the best interest of everyone in the country that you keep golfing, Mr. President.”
“Please,” he added.
Trump was reportedly surprised by the doctor’s words of encouragement, especially because the golf trip had limited the President’s ability to communicate with Fauci, the Centers for Disease Control, and other scientists involved in the coronavirus response.
“It’s been tough without you, but we are doing the best we can,” Fauci said. “After all the hard work you’ve done, you deserve months and months and months of golfing.”
Fauci also recommended that Trump throw away his phone, stop talking to the press, and not tell anyone about the great idea he had on the golf course about using lawn fertilizer to protect people from the coronavirus.


newyorker--2020-05-25--Briefly Noted Book Reviews

Briefly Noted Book Reviews

The Death of Jesus , by J. M. Coetzee ( Viking ) .
The trilogy of novels that began with “ The Childhood of Jesus ” ( 2013 ) ends as enigmatically as it began .
David , the protagonist , is now a precocious ten-year-old , in an unnamed country where memories are expunged .
After he forsakes his adoptive parents for a nearby orphanage , a strange illness renders him emaciated and epileptic , and he expounds idiosyncratic theories about celestial phenomena and “ Don Quixote.
” His startling pronouncements and sudden death lead some to believe that @ @ @ @ @ @ @ Others see him as merely an unlucky child . )
The novel , dense with veiled allegories and philosophical dialogues , challenges readers both to look for David ’ s message and to question whether it existed at all .
A Children ’ s Bible , by Lydia Millet ( Norton ) .
In this parable of the climate-change crisis , a group gathers for a reunion at a Gilded Age robber baron ’ s summer retreat .
While the adults fritter away the days , drinking and doing drugs , their preternaturally @ @ @ @ @ @ @ society .
When a huge storm floods roads and destroys power lines , giving rise to disease and anarchy , the adults , in denial , remain inert and bank on imminent rescue .
The children leave them behind , and set off to find safety .
Millet mordantly captures the complacency of older generations in the face of apocalypse , and the righteous anger , endurance , and practicality of the young .
The Equivalents , by Maggie Doherty ( Knopf ) .
Founded in 1960 , the Radcliffe Institute for Independent @ @ @ @ @ @ @ sister college , offered financial support and other resources to women with doctoral degrees or the artistic “ equivalent.
” This deft history charts the relationships among five of the earliest fellows : the poets Anne Sexton and Maxine Kumin , the painter Barbara Swan , the sculptor Marianna Pineda , and the writer Tillie Olsen .
Doherty relates their often fraught intimacies in detail , emphasizing how these dynamics prefigured currents in American feminism and culture .
The women ’ s shared story shows both the potential and the limitations of a @ @ @ @ @ @ @ ” as a liberating force .
My Autobiography of Carson McCullers , by Jenn Shapland ( Tin House ) .
Aiming to construct a new mode of lesbian history , the author combines research into the sexual life of Carson McCullers with an account of her own coming-out experiences .
McCullers was drawn to the “ misfits ” of Southern society , including black , gay , or disabled people ; she never hid her love of women , and surrounded herself with queer artists such as Tennessee Williams , Gypsy Rose Lee @ @ @ @ @ @ @ Shapland , who believes that McCullers has been retroactively closeted by peers and biographers , asserts that “ queer embodiment , like Carson ’ s , like mine , requires a presence , a negotiation with publicness.
” Accordingly , she finds herself “ hunting for lesbians ” in the literary world—an investigation that yields an unpretentious , moving record of love at the margins .

The Death of Jesus, by J. M. Coetzee (Viking). The trilogy of novels that began with “The Childhood of Jesus” (2013) ends as enigmatically as it began. David, the protagonist, is now a precocious ten-year-old, in an unnamed country where memories are expunged. After he forsakes his adoptive parents for a nearby orphanage, a strange illness renders him emaciated and epileptic, and he expounds idiosyncratic theories about celestial phenomena and “Don Quixote.” His startling pronouncements and sudden death lead some to believe that he was a martyred savant. (Others see him as merely an unlucky child.) The novel, dense with veiled allegories and philosophical dialogues, challenges readers both to look for David’s message and to question whether it existed at all.
A Children’s Bible, by Lydia Millet (Norton). In this parable of the climate-change crisis, a group gathers for a reunion at a Gilded Age robber baron’s summer retreat. While the adults fritter away the days, drinking and doing drugs, their preternaturally mature offspring devise a separate, parallel society. When a huge storm floods roads and destroys power lines, giving rise to disease and anarchy, the adults, in denial, remain inert and bank on imminent rescue. The children leave them behind, and set off to find safety. Millet mordantly captures the complacency of older generations in the face of apocalypse, and the righteous anger, endurance, and practicality of the young.
The Equivalents, by Maggie Doherty (Knopf). Founded in 1960, the Radcliffe Institute for Independent Study, part of Harvard’s sister college, offered financial support and other resources to women with doctoral degrees or the artistic “equivalent.” This deft history charts the relationships among five of the earliest fellows: the poets Anne Sexton and Maxine Kumin, the painter Barbara Swan, the sculptor Marianna Pineda, and the writer Tillie Olsen. Doherty relates their often fraught intimacies in detail, emphasizing how these dynamics prefigured currents in American feminism and culture. The women’s shared story shows both the potential and the limitations of a “room of one’s own” as a liberating force.
My Autobiography of Carson McCullers, by Jenn Shapland (Tin House). Aiming to construct a new mode of lesbian history, the author combines research into the sexual life of Carson McCullers with an account of her own coming-out experiences. McCullers was drawn to the “misfits” of Southern society, including black, gay, or disabled people; she never hid her love of women, and surrounded herself with queer artists such as Tennessee Williams, Gypsy Rose Lee, and Paul and Jane Bowles. Shapland, who believes that McCullers has been retroactively closeted by peers and biographers, asserts that “queer embodiment, like Carson’s, like mine, requires a presence, a negotiation with publicness.” Accordingly, she finds herself “hunting for lesbians” in the literary world—an investigation that yields an unpretentious, moving record of love at the margins.