newyorker--2020-06-22--The Promise and the Peril of Virtual Health Care

The call came in to the emergency department at Alice Peck Day Memorial Hospital , a twenty-five-bed facility in Lebanon , New Hampshire , around 2 P.M. on a weekday in mid-March .
Patient X had arrived by car , and , by the time he reached the hospital , the pain in his legs was so severe that he couldn ’ t move .
Jesse Webber , a paramedic , donned full personal protective equipment ( P.P.E . )
before going outside with a wheelchair .
Since the onset of the pandemic , almost all sick people who entered @ @ @ @ @ @ @ considered , whatever their symptoms , to be P.U.I.s—persons under investigation for COVID-19 .
The patient , a heavyset man in middle age , was lucid when Webber wheeled him into the emergency department ’ s negative-pressure room—a seven-by-eleven-foot windowless space fitted with a noisy exhaust fan that removes contaminated air .
Once the man was inside , his mental state deteriorated rapidly .
A team made up of Nancy Ferguson , a doctor , and two critical-care nurses , Kacie Boyle and Laura Williams , in full P.P.E.
, joined Webber and @ @ @ @ @ @ @ The patient was having difficulty breathing .
“ Very quickly , his respiratory rate dropped , ” Webber later told me .
He was “ crumping , ” as nurses say—not crashing , but failing fast .
“ His body essentially stopped breathing in front of us , ” Webber said .
Ferguson ordered a rapid-sequence intubation , a procedure for swiftly connecting a patient to a ventilator .
Ventilating a patient is a complex task that involves not just putting a breathing tube into the trachea but also inserting intravenous lines to @ @ @ @ @ @ @ doesn ’ t fight the tube—known in hospitals as “ bucking the vent.
” “ As soon as I heard the doctor say that , I reached behind me and hit the emergency-telehealth button , ” Webber recalled .
Within seconds , the team at Alice Peck Day was connected , through a secure audiovisual link , to the tele-emergency hub at Dartmouth-Hitchcock Medical Center , an academic training institution with more than five thousand employees , affiliated with Dartmouth College ’ s Geisel School of Medicine .
Sadie Smith , a nurse @ @ @ @ @ @ @ , were in the middle of twelve-hour shifts , sitting side by side at one of the hub ’ s four-screen workstations .
The workstations are hardwired into the emergency department at Alice Peck Day , and also into those of ten other community hospitals across the region ; the most distant is a hundred and eighty miles away .
Smith ’ s face popped up on the screen in the Alice Peck Day negative-pressure room .
Smith is one of the most experienced tele-emergency nurses on the Dartmouth-Hitchcock staff , and she @ @ @ @ @ @ @ would inspire calm in any crisis .
“ How can we help ?
” she asked .
Smith and Martin had control of a high-resolution camera mounted on the wall of the negative-pressure room .
They could zoom in on Patient X , watch his cardiac monitor , and talk to the doctor , nurses , and paramedic on the scene .
Electronic-record-sharing allowed them to “ chart on ” the patient—to have real-time access to his vitals and his medications , just as though they were there .
But , unlike the @ @ @ @ @ @ @ working elbow to elbow in the negative-pressure room , straining to speak over the noise of the exhaust fan , the tele-hub team was unharried and safe from possible COVID-19 exposure .
The hub personnel could check records and arrange for transport to the medical center , on the other side of town , without the nurses having to leave the room , thereby avoiding the hospital ’ s P.P.E.-doffing procedure—a two-person , twenty-eight-step job—and the need to put on new P.P.E .
on their return .
In the hub , Smith noticed @ @ @ @ @ @ @ receiving wasn ’ t compatible with the sedative that he was on ; the Alice Peck Day nurses switched fluids .
The doctors decided to insert a second I.V .
line , using the intraosseous method , which infuses medicine directly into the patient ’ s bone marrow .
Smith told me later that “ really large patients are difficult , because it ’ s really hard to find I.V .
access .
So I suggested going through the humeral head ” —the top of the arm bone .
“ I ’ m @ @ @ @ @ @ @ , going , ‘ Bring his arm over , lay it across his belly , then feel here , and right in the middle is where you want to go.
’ ” “ Sadie kind of guided us in , ” Webber said .
Finally , they got Patient X intubated , and “ it turned out his expired CO2 was really quite high , ” Smith told me .
As the nurses used the ventilator to blow pressurized oxygen into his lungs , his CO2 level started to trend down .
The @ @ @ @ @ @ @ involve a myriad of remote-health-care technologies and services collectively known as “ virtual care.
” For years , virtual care played a minor role in the United States ’ $ 3.6-trillion health-care industry ; now , with the COVID-19 pandemic , millions of people are discovering its benefits and its shortcomings for the first time .
If virtual care is the future of health care , is it a future that we want ?
In a narrow sense , the word “ telemedicine ” can mean the type of hardwired hospital-to-clinic setup that @ @ @ @ @ @ @ to assist in complex emergency procedures in distant spokes .
This approach is descended from NASA ’ s pioneering research , in the nineteen-sixties and seventies , into satellite communications and methods of monitoring astronauts ’ well-being in space .
One of the first telemedicine projects in a terrestrial setting , which operated between 1973 and 1977 , offered remote health care on the Papago—now the Tohono O ’ odham—reservation in southern Arizona while also testing the technology for use in spaceflight .
In the early eighties , NASA began developing a tele-I.C.U @ @ @ @ @ @ @ .
Telemedicine in the Dartmouth-Hitchcock Health system , a network of hospitals and clinics across New Hampshire and Vermont which serves 1.9 million people , is the twenty-first-century embodiment of the fifty-year-old prototype .
Telehealth also comprises virtual interactions between individual doctors and patients , in which the participants rely on an audiovisual hookup instead of an in-person visit .
You have a bad sore throat but don ’ t want to wait to see a doctor—or you are among the thirty per cent of millennials who don ’ t have one .
@ @ @ @ @ @ @ or to a brick-and-mortar urgent-care center .
Or you could download the telehealth app you saw advertised on MSNBC .
Before long , you are connected to a physician , who , using your phone to look down your throat and relying on your description of the swollen glands in your neck , can prescribe antibiotics and other noncontrolled substances .
You ’ ve saved yourself a trip to the clinic , and you haven ’ t made other people sick or caught something else yourself .
Online visits can be enhanced by @ @ @ @ @ @ @ home and then send it to a doctor .
These include fitness trackers , blood-pressure cuffs , pulse oximeters , and gadgets like Kinsa ’ s smart thermometer and TytoCare ’ s self-examination kit , which link up with a phone and make it possible to perform at least part of an annual wellness check on yourself .
Telehealth providers typically offer virtual urgent care for non-emergencies .
And patients suffering from chronic conditions , such as diabetes and colitis , can conduct routine follow-ups online .
Proponents of telehealth have long argued @ @ @ @ @ @ @ visits to the doctor ’ s office could be replaced by remote monitoring and checkups .
But , until the pandemic , most Americans weren ’ t interested .

In theory, portable units of this kind could be used to deliver care at home. But that would also undercut the prevailing business model at many hospitals, which is to get as many “heads in beds” as possible.
Corey Siegel, a Dartmouth-Hitchcock doctor who is one of the top specialists in inflammatory-bowel diseases in the country, was an early adopter of telehealth. Many of his patients, such as Jessica Caron, a young mother of two from Manchester, New Hampshire, who has Crohn’s disease, were driving an hour or more to see him at his office, in Lebanon, often with kids in tow. Siegel started to offer virtual visits in 2015. “It was a big win for me,” Caron told me. “It doesn’t replace the brick-and-mortar visit, but it complements it.” Using the telehealth option, “Corey and I can get together and talk about what makes sense, and when we need to see each other in person.”
When Caron heard about COVID-19, she panicked. “Managing chronic illness never really stops,” she said. “I thought, Oh, gosh, I’m on immunosuppressant medication, is that going to be a problem for me?” Telehealth offered Caron a way to keep in touch with Siegel and manage her condition until she felt safe enough to visit the office again.
“I won’t say anything good has come out of COVID-19,” Siegel told me, in April. “But we’ve done almost seven hundred telemedicine visits since it hit. Already, my colleagues are saying, ‘This is great, let’s do this after the pandemic ends.’ We might have learned in a very scary way that this is a great way to deliver care to patients.”
But it’s one thing to offer tele-care to a patient you know; it’s another to try to distinguish a bowel disease from indigestion during a virtual first visit. A tele-doctor who misdiagnoses a stomach ache that turns out to be stomach cancer has the same liability that a traditional doctor does. For that reason, virtual doctors are supposed to tell patients whose symptoms suggest a more complicated underlying condition to make an in-person visit to an office, for lab tests and a hands-on physical exam.
Internists I spoke with in New York City were quick to point out the diagnostic limitations of telemedicine. “You can’t have a belly exam” via a screen, my New York doctor, Martin Beitler, said. He was doing virtual visits from home as a necessity, but he wasn’t a fan. He says that telehealth, at its worst, promotes a kind of “knee-jerk, ‘give them antibiotics for every cold that they get’ attitude. That’s the kind of medicine you are going to get if you switch to all telehealth.”
Thomas Nash, an internist whose practice is on the Upper East Side, said, “Is it doable? Of course it’s doable. I’m doing it now.” But, he added, “I worry that it’s going to delay a good exam, and get in the way of deeper interactions between people and their doctors.” David Avram, a dermatologist in Brooklyn, told me that telemedicine works well for checking moles, because you can look at a mole with a smartphone. But he’s postponing full-body exams until he can return to the office.
In recent years, a wave of app-driven direct-to-consumer telehealth startups have appeared, offering to be Marcus Welby, e-M.D., for millennials—a virtual doctor who makes tele-house-calls. The idea of having a doctor who makes the equivalent of old-fashioned home visits came up in several of my conversations with people at telehealth companies. Roy Schoenberg, a co-C.E.O. of Amwell, likened the Amwell experience to a visit from Hiram Baker, the fictional physician in “Little House on the Prairie.” In this idyllic view, virtual care is a way of returning the doctor-patient relationship to the pre-insurance days.
Zachariah Reitano is a twenty-nine-year-old co-founder of Ro, a telehealth company that allows consumers to request medications for erectile dysfunction and other sexual-health-related issues, in addition to those for allergies and weight loss, and get them delivered to their door. His father was a doctor. “When I think about what we are trying to build at Ro, I am really trying to re-create my dad in software,” Reitano told me. “The man has saved my life, truly, and he has saved every person in my family. When you have a doctor in the home, when he can solve a problem for you, he’d solve it right then and there.”
Our health-care system is user-unfriendly and wasteful. The average patient has to wait twenty-nine days to get a physician’s appointment, and in most cases you don’t know what the visit and the lab work will cost until you receive a bill. If you need a prescription, you have to make a separate trip to the pharmacy.
Reitano, noting that the annual deductible in employee insurance plans can be more than two thousand dollars, said, “That’s insane. When you turn patients into more traditional consumers, they get to determine what they find valuable. They Google. They compare. They demand price transparency, metrics on the quality and efficacy of care, and the consumer-driven experience they get from Amazon, Apple, or Nike.” He added, “Look at Lasik, cosmetic surgery, breast augmentation. The technology dramatically improves, prices come down, and the patient experience becomes better.”
But what’s to stop Amazon itself from offering health care to its hundred million Prime members? Amazon Care, a pilot program for Amazon employees and their families, was rolled out, in February, as a telehealth supplement to workers’ existing insurance plans. Facebook, Apple, Microsoft, and Alphabet, Google’s parent company, have also made big investments in the health-care field in recent years. Many of the health-care changes spurred by the coronavirus outbreak are in Big Tech’s wheelhouse. At the same time, the economic losses caused by fewer in-person visits are likely to force smaller hospitals into bankruptcy, a trend that began before the pandemic. By one estimate, as many as sixty thousand physicians in family medicine may lose their practices because of the coronavirus crisis.
It’s one thing to make an appointment with a virtual (but real) doctor at Amwell; it’s another thing to list your symptoms on an Amazon or a Google portal and get a diagnosis from an A.I. So far, tech companies have focussed on developing diagnostic tools and sourcing supplies for medical workers during the pandemic. But how long are they likely to let the disaster go to waste?
“O.K., I had two crumbs, Doug had three. You know what? Let’s just split the bill evenly.” Cartoon by Pia Guerra and Ian Boothby Copy link to cartoon Copy link to cartoon Shop Shop
On Good Friday, I had a Hiram Baker-like virtual house call in my home with Matthew Mackwood, a family doctor with a master’s in public health who is one of the physicians on Dartmouth-Hitchcock’s staff. There was a lump on my foot, and I worried that I might have stepped on a piece of glass, or that a critter had burrowed under my skin. Googling “chigger” only fed my cyberchondria.
Treatment at home offers certain advantages beyond those of keeping quarantine. Benjamin Fogel, a pediatrician at Penn State Children’s Hospital, in Hershey, Pennsylvania, told me about some of his patients. “They are in their room with the door closed, and they feel like it’s private, more than they feel like it’s private in a doctor’s office,” he said. “These kids are sitting at their desks or on their beds. I can tell they are more at ease.”
I’d had some experience with telehealth since the lockdown. My wife and I were having a weekly Zoom session with our therapist. To get some privacy from our kids, we had to sit in the back of our pickup truck, parked close enough to the house to get the Wi-Fi signal. (There’s no cellular service where we live, which is not uncommon in certain parts of Vermont.)
In person, doctors often spend the first ten minutes of an appointment studying records on their computer while you sit across from them, looking at their framed degrees and family photos. But during a virtual visit the doctor meets you face to face, and her gaze mostly stays on you (or on your records on her screen—it can be hard to tell the difference). For fans of telehealth, this is one of its most appealing features. “You’re looking at the physician, and the physician is looking at you,” Schoenberg, the Amwell co-C.E.O., told me. “This is a very intimate encounter. And, once you get exposed to it, at some point you’re going to say, ‘If this is available to me, why should I revert to the laborious, dangerous, hard effort of going into the practice?’ ”
Thomas Nash, in Manhattan, was skeptical. “Eyeball to eyeball is not a normal human interaction, right? A normal human interaction—you shift your body a little, you look to the left for a second, you gather your thoughts, you take a pause, which you really can’t do in this compressed screen-to-screen interaction.”
When my appointment with Dr. Mackwood rolled around, my daughter had the iPad I was planning to use, my son was in a bandwidth-hogging Zoom class, and the cat was howling for food, so I grabbed my phone and retreated to the bathroom.
Mackwood began, “Let me ask you a few questions, and then I’ll take a look at your foot. You said it hurts with pressure. What does that pain feel like? Sharp? Burning? How would you describe it?”
“It’s not a sharp pain,” I responded. “It’s more of a burning, generalized pain. I have my index finger on it. The circumference of it is about the size of a dime, though not as round. It doesn’t feel like there’s a splinter or a piece of glass in there.”
“Any numbness or tingling associated with that? Weakness in the foot or toes? Any drainage?”
“No, but it does have kind of a little dimple right in the middle of it. It’s possible that it’s a little critter that’s burrowed in there. Maybe a chigger?”
“Very uncommon in these parts.”
Using my phone, I showed the doctor my foot. I had to pretzel myself around to give him a good view.
Mackwood diagnosed my lump as an ordinary plantar wart. In normal times, he said, I would be able to come into the clinic, where, over a few visits, he would use liquid nitrogen to freeze it.
“There’s also the duct-tape method,” Mackwood added. You stick a small piece of duct tape to the wart, leave it on for a week, rub the softened wart with a pumice stone, and repeat, for four to six weeks.


newyorker--2020-06-22--“In a Border Town,” by Afaa Michael Weaver

In this version of the city , no one dares read , ragtime grows underneath Washington ’ s obelisk , not a monument but a threat to the clouded sky .
Next door to McCormick ’ s , a telescope sits , looking over the harbor , inside all of what is , for a new constellation , the hidden dancers , a joining , convergences that come only when September moons bring heavy rains , a deluge to sound alarms to haul in the blue crabs .
In all of this we are overgrown ants , brittle on the @ @ @ @ @ @ @ Southern chants for spells to soften the hard .
What names us ?
I ask a man shuffling in bags , a man who knows the giant ants we have become , who knows us , but says now we have no name , but purple iris in a golden vase over the harbor , peace wrapping itself over the city ’ s north border , where horses reign over the emptied corners , where I climb back into the old way of dancing , wiping away the spinning-top hairdos with thick masks @ @ @ @ @ @ @ breathless so I can be freed from the one spent song .

Audio: Read by the author.
In this version of the city, no one dares read,
ragtime grows underneath Washington’s obelisk,
not a monument but a threat to the clouded sky.
Next door to McCormick’s, a telescope sits,
looking over the harbor, inside all of what is,
for a new constellation, the hidden dancers,
a joining, convergences that come only when
September moons bring heavy rains, a deluge
to sound alarms to haul in the blue crabs.
In all of this we are overgrown ants, brittle
on the tongue, held up above ourselves singing
Southern chants for spells to soften the hard.
What names us? I ask a man shuffling in bags,
a man who knows the giant ants we have become,
who knows us, but says now we have no name,
but purple iris in a golden vase over the harbor,
peace wrapping itself over the city’s north border,
where horses reign over the emptied corners,
where I climb back into the old way of dancing,
wiping away the spinning-top hairdos with thick
masks over the need to be naked and breathless
so I can be freed from the one spent song.


newyorker--2020-06-22--Slide Show: New Yorker Cartoons June 29, 2020

“ The hardest thing to do is to forgive yourself , and I ’ ve done that , so I @ @ @ @ @ you can ’ t forgive me , too .
”

“The hardest thing to do is to forgive yourself, and I’ve done that, so I don’t know why you can’t forgive me, too.”
Cartoon by Barbara Smaller


newyorker--2020-06-22--On Finding and Translating Kafka’s Fragmented, Claustrophobic Gems

The fiction in this week ’ s issue , “ The Rescue Will Begin in Its Own Time , ” is a series of very short pieces by Franz Kafka that have never been published in English , and that will appear this fall in the New Directions book “ The Lost Writings.
” Can you tell us a bit about why that is , and how they came into your hands ?
Barbara Epler : The story of this book starts at a lunch with the biographer Reiner Stach .
New Directions had published his excellent little illustrated compendium @ @ @ @ @ @ @ Is That Kafka ?
99 Finds.
” Reiner was in New York to help with a larger project , a new publication here of his spectacular three-volume biography , but we took him to lunch to celebrate our much smaller book .
I mentioned how amazing it was to me that the two or three great pieces of Kafka ’ s own writing that were included in “ Is That Kafka ” had never been published in English before , and he smiled and said that there were many Kafka prose texts that @ @ @ @ @ @ @ You ’ re kidding me , ” I replied .
“ That can ’ t be possible.
” But Reiner assured me that it was true .
And , eventually , he very kindly agreed to send us a list of all the texts that he believed had not been published in English .
It was a longer list than ended up in our book .
Reiner hadn ’ t known about the beautiful “ Blue Octavo Notebooks ” that Exact Change had published , in 2004 , and I ’ m afraid @ @ @ @ @ @ @ none of us knew of the more recent Sun Vision Press edition “ Abandoned Fragments : the Unedited Works of Franz Kafka , 1897-1917 ” —that came as a surprise , and the texts that overlapped with that book are now in Part II of our “ Lost Writings.
” Do you have an idea when these were written ?
Michael Hofmann : It ’ s my understanding that they were written during Kafka ’ s last years , between 1917 and 1924 .
( He died in 1924 . )
A volume @ @ @ @ @ @ @ ” was published in the United States in 1983 .
His “ Collected Stories ” was published in 1993 .
How is it that these short pieces weren ’ t included in either book ?
B.E .
: The reason the texts in Part I , the vast majority of our book , weren ’ t included in the “ Collected Stories ” may be that many are fragments .
But , more to the point , they weren ’ t available to the American publishers of “ The Complete Stories.
” In @ @ @ @ @ @ @ enormous scholarly undertaking— “ Nachgelassene Schriften Und Fragmente , ” Volumes I and II ( 1992 and 1993 , eleven hundred pages ) —which , as Reiner explains in his afterword to “ The Lost Writings , ” were each accompanied by a further volume of textual variants and commentary .
As he remarks , “ There is a plentitude that is hard to master and that in and of itself becomes intractable .
.
.
.
Hence , decades after their first publication , Kafka ’ s fragments have remained terra incognita @ @ @ @ @ @ @ readers.
” By the way , Reiner didn ’ t like the title we chose : he has pointed out that they weren ’ t and aren ’ t lost—they were there in plain sight all along in those hard-won , enormous scholarly works .
But , for me , it feels like a surprise birthday gift , the whole thing : that we are suddenly in possession of these near-poems , these metaphysical condensed riddles , these sudden depths and wells , these claustrophobic gems that deliver such incredible , opening-out intensity @ @ @ @ @ @ @ stories are so endlessly , elastically surprising .
None of this would have happened for New Directions without our lunch with Reiner .
And this is our third adventure with Michael Hofmann ’ s Franz Kafka—Michael retranslated ( now some years ago ) “ Amerika , ” a book that New Directions has published for most of our history ( Max Brod signed our original contract ) , as well as the wonderful story collection “ Investigations of a Dog.
” But to have this completely new work , it ’ s a @ @ @ @ @ @ @ many others in the book , are very short , and , in some cases , unfinished or fragmentary .
Do you think they still work as stories ?
Do they seem to you characteristic of Kafka ’ s work , or outliers ?
M.H .
: Absolutely characteristic .
“ Finished ” seems to me , in the context of Kafka , a dubious or ironic condition , anyway .
The more finished , the less finished .
The less finished , the more finished .
Gregor Samsa ’ s sister Grete @ @ @ @ @ @ @ .
What kind of an ending is that ?
!
There ’ s perhaps some distinction to be made between “ finished ” and “ ended.
” Everything continues to vibrate or unsettle , anyway .
Reiner Stach points out that none of the three novels were “ completed.
” Some pieces break off , or are concluded , or stop—it doesn ’ t matter !
—after two hundred pages , some after two lines .
The gusto , the friendliness , the wit with which Kafka launches himself into these things is @ @ @ @ @ @ @ think of his reputation as a trapped bore .
Nothing of the kind .
We are reading these in the midst of a global pandemic and , in the United States , a time of social upheaval .
Do you think we can learn something specific to our times from Kafka ’ s work ?
M.H .
: I always think it ’ s a pity that more Americans haven ’ t read “ Amerika , ” abandoned in 1914 .
There ’ s a shower in it !
There ’ s an @ @ @ @ @ @ @ cookout !
A police chase !
There ’ s a description of Coca-Cola !
There ’ s an election !
Karl is on the run , and gives his name as “ Negro , Technical Worker.
” Otherwise , I think of the First World War then being in progress , and Kafka barely mentioning it .
You can spend your life sticking flags in maps—or pins in dolls—or you can write .
Or read .
B.E .
: As to current times and how Kafkaesque they are : well , about a @ @ @ @ @ @ @ Lost Writings ” for autumn of 2020 , because we thought that , if anything is bulletproof in what ’ s sure to be election-year pandemonium , it ’ s Kafka .
We didn ’ t know the half of it !

Photograph from Getty
The fiction in this week’s issue, “The Rescue Will Begin in Its Own Time,” is a series of very short pieces by Franz Kafka that will appear this fall in the New Directions book “The Lost Writings.” Can you tell us a bit about how they came into your hands?
Barbara Epler: The story of this book starts at a lunch with the biographer Reiner Stach. New Directions had published his excellent little illustrated compendium of slant facts about Kafka, “Is That Kafka? 99 Finds.” Reiner was in New York to help with a larger project, a new publication here of his spectacular three-volume biography, but we took him to lunch to celebrate our much smaller book.
I mentioned how amazing it was to me that the two or three great pieces of Kafka’s own writing that were included in “Is That Kafka” had never been published in English before, and he smiled and said that there were many Kafka prose texts that hadn’t been translated.
“You’re kidding me,” I replied. “That can’t be possible.” But Reiner assured me that it was true. And, eventually, he very kindly agreed to send us a list of all the texts that he believed had not been published in English. It was a longer list than ended up in our book. Reiner hadn’t known about the beautiful “Blue Octavo Notebooks” that Exact Change had published, in 2004, and I’m afraid that until pretty far down the road none of us knew of the more recent Sun Vision Press edition “Abandoned Fragments: the Unedited Works of Franz Kafka, 1897-1917”—that came as a surprise, and the texts that overlapped with that book are now in Part II of our “Lost Writings.”
By the way, Reiner didn’t like the title we chose: he has pointed out that they weren’t and aren’t lost—they were there in plain sight all along in those hard-won, enormous scholarly works. But, for me, it feels like a surprise birthday gift, the whole thing: that we are suddenly in possession of these near-poems, these metaphysical condensed riddles, these sudden depths and wells, these claustrophobic gems that deliver such incredible, opening-out intensity and such compressed existential beauty. The stories are so endlessly, elastically surprising.
None of this would have happened for New Directions without our lunch with Reiner. And this is our third adventure with Michael Hofmann’s Franz Kafka—Michael retranslated (now some years ago) “Amerika,” a book that New Directions has published for most of our history (Max Brod signed our original contract), as well as the wonderful story collection “Investigations of a Dog.” [After publication of this interview, The New Yorker discovered that the first story in “The Rescue Will Begin in Its Own Time” appears in English in “The Complete Stories,” and translations of all four were published in the out-of-print “Dearest Father: Stories and Other Writings,” from 1954.]
Do you have an idea when these were written?
Michael Hofmann: It’s my understanding that they were written during Kafka’s last years, between 1917 and 1924. (He died in 1924.)
The pieces here, and many others in the book, are very short, and, in some cases, unfinished or fragmentary. Do you think they still work as stories? Do they seem to you characteristic of Kafka’s work, or outliers?
M.H.: Absolutely characteristic. “Finished” seems to me, in the context of Kafka, a dubious or ironic condition, anyway. The more finished, the less finished. The less finished, the more finished. Gregor Samsa’s sister Grete getting up to stretch in the streetcar. What kind of an ending is that?! There’s perhaps some distinction to be made between “finished” and “ended.” Everything continues to vibrate or unsettle, anyway. Reiner Stach points out that none of the three novels were “completed.” Some pieces break off, or are concluded, or stop—it doesn’t matter!—after two hundred pages, some after two lines. The gusto, the friendliness, the wit with which Kafka launches himself into these things is astonishing. It’s terrible to think of his reputation as a trapped bore. Nothing of the kind.
We are reading these in the midst of a global pandemic and, in the United States, a time of social upheaval. Do you think we can learn something specific to our times from Kafka’s work?
M.H.: I always think it’s a pity that more Americans haven’t read “Amerika,” abandoned in 1914. There’s a shower in it! There’s an elevator! A millionaire uncle! A cookout! A police chase! There’s a description of Coca-Cola! There’s an election! Karl is on the run, and gives his name as “Negro, Technical Worker.” Otherwise, I think of the First World War then being in progress, and Kafka barely mentioning it. You can spend your life sticking flags in maps—or pins in dolls—or you can write. Or read.
B.E.: As to current times and how Kafkaesque they are: well, about a year ago, we scheduled “The Lost Writings” for autumn of 2020, because we thought that, if anything is bulletproof in what’s sure to be election-year pandemonium, it’s Kafka.
We didn’t know the half of it!


newyorker--2020-06-22--The Lockdown Lessons of “Crime and Punishment”

For all Raskolnikov ’ s sullen self-consciousness , he has moments of fellow-feeling and righteous anger .
His family and friends adore him ; even the insinuating and masterly investigator , Porfiry , believes that dear Rodya is worth fighting for .
In our class , Raskolnikov ’ s feelings about the vulnerability of women—an important issue in “ Crime and Punishment ” —stirred a number of students , especially one I ’ ll call Julia , who often returned to the theme .
There was the matter of Raskolnikov ’ s sister , Dunya , a provincial beauty , @ @ @ @ @ @ @ the victim of insolent monetary bids for her hand from two despicable middle-aged suitors .
The situation incenses Raskolnikov .
“ He firmly believes his sister is prostituting herself , ” Julia said .
“ He has what seems to me a very radical and even progressive thought—marriage is a form of prostitution , a form of slavery .
It ’ s kind of Catharine MacKinnon.
” Julia , who came from a Catholic Cuban family , had been an embattled feminist in her South Florida high school , which was filled with @ @ @ @ @ @ @ hesitated for a second , but then , grinning in complicity with herself , moved swiftly through complicated feminist and social-justice ideas .
Raskolnikov was a puzzle for her .
“ He ’ s using this philosophical defense to separate himself from the murder , ” she said .
Yet he wants to protect women , not just his sister but hapless young girls in the street .
Was his interest a case of male “ triumphalism ” —a way of enhancing his power over women by helping them ?
Dostoyevsky ’ s @ @ @ @ @ @ @ was as outraged as anything the Brontës had produced , with the Russian additive of persistent violence .
The male characters , telling stories in jocular tones , assume their right to beat women .
“ ‘ She ’ s my property , ’ ” Julia mimicked .
“ ‘ I could have beaten her more.
’ ” In the course of the novel , three different women , all given to extravagant tirades—a Dostoyevsky specialty—fall apart and die in early middle age .
I couldn ’ t escape the novel ’ s @ @ @ @ @ @ @ of Petersburg , the breakdown of social ties , the drunkenness and violence .
At that moment in April , our own city felt largely empty , but I often imagined American streets filled with jobless people , some clinging to hopes of returning to work , many without such hopes .
We were halfway through the novel , halfway to the confusion and proud madness of Raskolnikov ’ s dream .
Would we go the other half ?
Julia ’ s feminist reading , new for me , opened still another connection @ @ @ @ @ @ @ abuse had gone up among couples locked together .
Women were now being punished , as the critic Jacqueline Rose would note , for the recent liberties they had achieved .
Looking for present-day resonances , I knew , was a grim and limited way of reading this work .
“ Crime and Punishment ” is about many things—the psychology of crime , the destiny of families , the vanity and anguish of single men adrift .
But , midway through the book , Dostoyevsky ’ s writerly exuberance allayed my worries .
@ @ @ @ @ @ @ with his own hectic style of comedy .
His characters show up reciting their troubles and lineages , their lives “ hanging out on their tongues , ” as the critic V. S. Pritchett put it .
I was now sequestered in a welter of betrayals and loyalties , gossip and opinion : the assorted virtuous and vicious people in the book believe in manners , but they never stop talking about one another .
Even the company of Dostoyevsky ’ s buffoons was liberating .
And Dostoyevsky ’ s extremity—his savage inwardness @ @ @ @ @ @ @ right .
How many millions were now locked in their rooms muttering vile thoughts to themselves , or wondering about the point of their existence ?
He wrote about the absolute rationality of evil and the absurd necessity of goodness .
He taunted himself and his readers with alarming propositions : What happens to man without God and immortal life ?
Big questions can result in banality , but when an idea is put forward in Dostoyevsky ’ s fiction it goes someplace—runs up against an opposing one , or is developed and @ @ @ @ @ @ @ contradictions notably exist within characters .
Dostoyevsky turned Raskolnikov ’ s unconscious into a field of action .
The students had returned to familiar surroundings ( dogs barked in the background ) , but they had three or four other courses—not to mention all the anxieties of a precarious future—to contend with .
Their college careers were messed up , their friendships interrupted , their campus activities and summer internships wiped out .
As we read together in April , the university ’ s hospital , New York-Presbyterian , was filled with victims @ @ @ @ @ @ @ , hundreds of them were dying every day .
So many elements of our civilization had shut down : churches , schools , and universities ; libraries , bookstores , research institutes , and museums ; opera companies , concert organizations , and movie houses ; theatre and dance groups ; galleries , studios , and local arts groups of all kinds ( not to mention local bars ) .
Who knew what would perish and what would come back ?
The students were discomfited , often quiet , almost abashed .
In @ @ @ @ @ @ @ their responses to the reading , and he used their notes to pull them into the conversation .
As we approached the final dream and its awful picture of social breakdown , I continued searching the novel for indications of what could summon so dreadful a vision—and also of what suggested its opposite , a possibly more benevolent world that was also presaged by Dostoyevsky ’ s whirling contraries .
In class , the conversation turned toward questions of moral indifference and sympathy .
What obligations did we have to one another ?
@ @ @ @ @ @ @ ?
For Americans , that last question was strange , even repellent , but in mid-April the language of hardship was all around us .
Antonio remained fascinated by the idea that one might achieve greatness by doing wrong in the service of a larger right .
But during the crime itself Raskolnikov falls into an abstracted near-trance and does one stupid thing after another .
Antonio had noted that Raskolnikov , standing in a police station , faints dead away when someone mentions the pawnbroker : “ His body shuts off .
@ @ @ @ @ @ @ , even if you try to take intellectual approaches to prevent yourself from getting caught.
” Antonio ’ s flirtation with the murderer was short-lived .
Raskolnikov blurts out many griefs and ambitions , but is never able to say exactly what propelled his actions .
Dostoyevsky doesn ’ t want the reader to solve the mystery : he makes the crime both overdetermined and incoherently motivated .
It was hard to judge a young man so intricately composed , and , when Professor Dames asked , “ Do we want him to @ @ @ @ @ @ @ he got no better than a mixed response .
Raskolnikov wants , and doesn ’ t want , to escape punishment .
His sulfurous inner monologues alternate between contempt for others and contempt for himself .
Professor Dames , answering his own question , said that Dostoyevsky creates extraordinary suspense , but it ’ s psychological suspense : “ Is he going to crack ?
” Dostoyevsky intended moral suspense as well : Would Raskolnikov come to recognize that what he did was absolutely wrong ?
In the last third of the novel @ @ @ @ @ @ @ a way out for him .
“ She ’ s not coming to Raskolnikov from a position of judgment , ” Professor Dames said , “ nor from a position of implied moral superiority .
She ’ s saying , ‘ We are two sinners.
’ ” A deeply religious girl , she had taken to working the streets in a failed effort to save her crumbling family , and must endure Raskolnikov ’ s taunt that she has given up her happiness for nothing .
In return , she presses him hard @ @ @ @ @ @ @ own misery ?
The subsequent conversion of the snarling former student to Sonya ’ s doctrine—the necessity of suffering and salvation through Christ—is perhaps the most resolutely asexual seduction in all of literature .
What could it mean for us ?

I couldn’t escape the novel’s larger theme of decline: the incoherence of Petersburg, the breakdown of social ties, the drunkenness and violence. At that moment in April, our own city felt largely empty, but I often imagined American streets filled with jobless people, some clinging to hopes of returning to work, many without such hopes. We were halfway through the novel, halfway to the confusion and proud madness of Raskolnikov’s dream. Would we go the other half? Julia’s feminist reading, new for me, opened still another connection. The newspapers were reporting that domestic abuse had gone up among couples locked together. Women were now being punished, as the critic Jacqueline Rose would note, for the recent liberties they had achieved.
Looking for present-day resonances, I knew, was a grim and limited way of reading this work. “Crime and Punishment” is about many things—the psychology of crime, the destiny of families, the vanity and anguish of single men adrift. But, midway through the book, Dostoyevsky’s writerly exuberance allayed my worries. He’s an inspired entertainer, with his own hectic style of comedy. His characters show up reciting their troubles and lineages, their lives “hanging out on their tongues,” as the critic V. S. Pritchett put it. I was now sequestered in a welter of betrayals and loyalties, gossip and opinion: the assorted virtuous and vicious people in the book believe in manners, but they never stop talking about one another. Even the company of Dostoyevsky’s buffoons was liberating.
And Dostoyevsky’s extremity—his savage inwardness, his apocalyptic feverishness—had never felt so right. How many millions were now locked in their rooms muttering vile thoughts to themselves, or wondering about the point of their existence? He wrote about the absolute rationality of evil and the absurd necessity of goodness. He taunted himself and his readers with alarming propositions: What happens to man without God and immortal life? Big questions can result in banality, but when an idea is put forward in Dostoyevsky’s fiction it goes someplace—runs up against an opposing one, or is developed and refuted two hundred pages later. Such contradictions notably exist within characters. Dostoyevsky turned Raskolnikov’s unconscious into a field of action.
The students had returned to familiar surroundings (dogs barked in the background), but they had three or four other courses—not to mention all the anxieties of a precarious future—to contend with. Their college careers were messed up, their friendships interrupted, their campus activities and summer internships wiped out. As we read together in April, the university’s hospital, New York-Presbyterian, was filled with victims of the pandemic. Across the city, hundreds of them were dying every day. So many elements of our civilization had shut down: churches, schools, and universities; libraries, bookstores, research institutes, and museums; opera companies, concert organizations, and movie houses; theatre and dance groups; galleries, studios, and local arts groups of all kinds (not to mention local bars). Who knew what would perish and what would come back?
“Enough of this. Let’s go shred a sofa.” Cartoon by Julia Suits Copy link to cartoon Copy link to cartoon Shop Shop
The students were discomfited, often quiet, almost abashed. In between classes, they sent Professor Dames their responses to the reading, and he used their notes to pull them into the conversation. As we approached the final dream and its awful picture of social breakdown, I continued searching the novel for indications of what could summon so dreadful a vision—and also of what suggested its opposite, a possibly more benevolent world that was also presaged by Dostoyevsky’s whirling contraries. In class, the conversation turned toward questions of moral indifference and sympathy. What obligations did we have to one another? Was there any redemptive value in suffering? For Americans, that last question was strange, even repellent, but in mid-April the language of hardship was all around us.
Antonio remained fascinated by the idea that one might achieve greatness by doing wrong in the service of a larger right. But during the crime itself Raskolnikov falls into an abstracted near-trance and does one stupid thing after another. Antonio had noted that Raskolnikov, standing in a police station, faints dead away when someone mentions the pawnbroker: “His body shuts off. The consequences of the act become unstoppable, even if you try to take intellectual approaches to prevent yourself from getting caught.” Antonio’s flirtation with the murderer was short-lived.
Raskolnikov blurts out many griefs and ambitions, but is never able to say exactly what propelled his actions. Dostoyevsky doesn’t want the reader to solve the mystery: he makes the crime both overdetermined and incoherently motivated. It was hard to judge a young man so intricately composed, and, when Professor Dames asked, “Do we want him to get away with it?,” he got no better than a mixed response. Raskolnikov wants, and doesn’t want, to escape punishment. His sulfurous inner monologues alternate between contempt for others and contempt for himself. Professor Dames, answering his own question, said that Dostoyevsky creates extraordinary suspense, but it’s psychological suspense: “Is he going to crack?”
Dostoyevsky intended moral suspense as well: Would Raskolnikov come to recognize that what he did was absolutely wrong? In the last third of the novel, the gentle but persistent Sonya offers a way out for him. “She’s not coming to Raskolnikov from a position of judgment,” Professor Dames said, “nor from a position of implied moral superiority. She’s saying, ‘We are two sinners.’ ” A deeply religious girl, she had taken to working the streets in a failed effort to save her crumbling family, and must endure Raskolnikov’s taunt that she has given up her happiness for nothing. In return, she presses him hard: Was he capable of acknowledging his own misery? The subsequent conversion of the snarling former student to Sonya’s doctrine—the necessity of suffering and salvation through Christ—is perhaps the most resolutely asexual seduction in all of literature. What could it mean for us?
In the next class, we were guided through the epilogue. Raskolnikov is in a prison camp, and Dostoyevsky’s narration shifts to a more removed, third-person voice. “For the first time, we’re outside Raskolnikov’s head in a sustained way,” Professor Dames said. “We’re separated from psychology, and it feels like a loss.” But Julia said she felt “relief,” and quoted the narrator’s remark about Raskolnikov: “Instead of dialectics, there was life.” By dialectics, Dostoyevsky meant all the theories plaguing the former student. A young man with a head crammed full of ideas, Raskolnikov needed “air.”
And what was “air” in this claustrophobic novel? The word, Professor Dames said, “was an articulation of something transcendental, certainly religious.” Julia was right to steer us to the line “Instead of dialectics, there was life.” It was the most important sentence in the novel. “But what is meant by ‘life’?” Professor Dames asked. Raskolnikov tries strenuously to shape that life, but in the end transcendence comes from a surrender of individuality, not an assertion of it. “The novel is a strong rebuke to individual happiness and individual rights and autonomy,” he said. At the end of the class, Zoom froze on Professor Dames, and he remained immobile on my screen, his dark eyes staring straight ahead. We all needed air.
The final dream is lodged in the novel’s epilogue. That dream is a creepy invention, evoking the genres of science fiction and horror: “Here and there people would band together, agree among themselves to do something, swear never to part—but immediately begin something completely different from what they themselves had just suggested, begin accusing one another, fighting, stabbing.” The struggle has a sinister dénouement: the few survivors of the disease are “pure and chosen, destined to begin a new generation of people and a new life.” The dream presents a vision of society even more feral than the author’s rendering of Petersburg earlier in the novel. Surely it’s also an extreme expression of Raskolnikov’s mind: having murdered two people, he now wants to murder the multitudes. But isn’t it the opposite as well? An expression of Raskolnikov’s sympathy, a boundless pity for a collapsing world? He remains complex and contradictory to the end.
I wasn’t the only reader in April to be alarmed by the dream of an “unknown and unseen pestilence.” As Julia wrote me in an e-mail, the dream was science fiction, but political science fiction; the notion of a few special survivors suggested a master race, a new form of white male privilege. She also saw the dream as reflecting on us. “I noticed that the infected persons who are stubborn in their beliefs to the point of madness bear a striking resemblance to Americans trying to talk politics,” she wrote. “The mobs of people described by Dostoyevsky recalled photos I saw of conservative folks in Michigan protesting stay-at-home orders at the capitol. The expressions on their faces and their screams, so convinced that their moral convictions are correct.” And Antonio wrote to me that “people can’t agree on what’s right and wrong, and, in our case, we know that ambiguity concerning the future can make people restless and highly partisan when reason and compassion is what’s needed in this situation.” His hope was that “we can humble ourselves enough to realize where we’ve gone wrong, to throw ourselves at the feet of the ‘insatiable compassion’ that Sonya represents and emerge better people. If we can do that, then we won’t have to simply survive.”
Two months later, my classmates had survived one experiment—the strangeness of intimate reading through remote learning. But the struggle for clarity and understanding had intensified on so many fronts. I thought of all the people acting with courage and generosity, not just the front-line warriors and the outsiders who rushed to New York to help when the outbreak began but the many people who created communities of faith or art online, or sent out all manner of useful advice on how to resist despair. The marchers protesting the murder of George Floyd and all that it symbolizes risked disease to express solidarity with one another. As the summer began, Antonio, to make money, found work at a nearby country club—cleaning floors, windows, and golf carts. He told me that it was hard for him to “think about the future, because of the current situation, with the protests and the pandemic,” although he didn’t rule out a job in government. Julia was interning for a legal nonprofit, and making plans to become a human-rights lawyer, perhaps for Amnesty International.
Every day, in Trump’s America, it seemed as though we were coming closer to the annihilating turmoil—the mixed state of vexation and fear—in Raskolnikov’s dream. The disease was everywhere, and it only heightened our world’s fissures and inequities. More than a hundred thousand had died, tens of millions were unemployed, many were hungry, and, at times, the country appeared to be unravelling. Some spoke of racism as a “virus,” the American virus; and the language of disease, though it miscasts a human-made scourge as a natural phenomenon, captures just how profoundly it has infiltrated the life of the country. The President’s every statement, meanwhile, was designed to widen chaos. He spoke of the need to “dominate,” and many of us were determined not to be dominated. We would not lose our individuality, like the poor murderer in his exile. But neither could we escape responsibility for the mess we had made, a mess we had bequeathed to the students, and to all of the next generation. I kept returning to Dostoyevsky’s book, looking for signs of how collective purpose can heal social divisions and injustices, stoking hope and resolve alongside fear, anything that would overtake the desperate anomie that Raskolnikov’s dream had conjured: “In the cities, the bells rang all day long: everyone was being summoned, but no one knew who was summoning them or why.” ♦


newyorker--2020-06-22--From the Trump White House to Fox News to . . . the Cameo App?

What do you do after you ’ ve been fired from the Trump Administration ?
In the past , the President ’ s axed staffers have hoped for jobs at Fox News or fellowships at the Harvard Kennedy School .
But a new platform ( no application required ; work from home ) has emerged for those who are willing to say literally anything .
Cameo bills itself as an app for “ personal video shoutouts from your favorite people ” ; for fifty dollars , a pseudo-celebrity such as Donald Trump ’ s disgraced adviser George Papadopoulos will wish @ @ @ @ @ @ @ Day , or any other message you might want .
When Cameo launched , in 2017 , it trafficked in videos of C-listers such as Tony Hawk doing a “ gender reveal ” for a baby ( price : two hundred dollars ) or Caitlyn Jenner saying happy birthday ( twenty-five hundred dollars ) .
In recent months , the ex-Trump officials have come pouring in .
Anthony Scaramucci used to be Trump ’ s mouthpiece , but he has extended his reach , offering himself as a spokesperson to anyone who can @ @ @ @ @ @ @ a pillow that says “ MOOCH ” and bellows , “ I ’ ll talk about anything , as you guys know .
So look me up , dial me in , and tell me what you want me to say to you !
” He concludes with a loud kissing noise and promises to respond within three days .
( Sebastian Gorka , Trump ’ s former deputy assistant , guarantees a same-day response . )
Roger Stone , Trump ’ s longtime adviser , whose incarceration has been deferred , has @ @ @ @ @ @ @ quarantine pastime until he ’ s due in prison , later this month .
The former press secretary Sean Spicer is on the app , too .
“ It ’ s like the Uber of fan mail , ” he said .
“ People are paying for what they want.
” “ Our mission is to create the most authentic connections on earth , ” Arthur Leopold , Cameo ’ s C.O.O.
, said .
“ We ’ ve democratized access to talent and celebrity .
You don ’ t have to go @ @ @ @ @ @ @ Hotel anymore.
” He added , “ Whether it ’ s Avenatti or Omarosa , they all have dedicated fan bases .
People who support Trump think it ’ s cool to have someone in his inner circle wish them a happy birthday.
” But customer reviews are mixed .
One user wrote , of Scaramucci , “ I appreciate the video , but wish he had sat up or made more of an effort or at least brushed his hair.
” Another : “ Mr Scaramucci did not identify himself , so @ @ @ @ @ @ @ NY accent.
” ( One star . )
There ’ s one person on Cameo who still works for the President .
Although Corey Lewandowski is a senior adviser on Trump ’ s reëlection campaign , he appears to have ample time to make Cameos , which he films in front of an American flag and a Trump-Pence sign .
He tends to insert his politics into his videos , such as when he commended a woman for working hard to “ instill conservative values ” in her pet pug , Nobu .
@ @ @ @ @ @ @ who moonlights on the app , randomly slips pro-Trump phrases into her videos , like “ No obstruction , no collusion.
” One of the few Democrats on Cameo is Rod Blagojevich , the former Illinois governor who was in prison for corruption until Trump commuted his sentence , earlier this year .
( Trump fired Blagojevich , too—in 2010 , on “ The Celebrity Apprentice.
” ) Positioned in his study with a biography of Churchill behind him , Blagojevich advertises himself in a tone one might hear in a hostage video @ @ @ @ @ @ @ greeting , an anniversary greeting , motivation , or any other kind of shoutout , I can ’ t wait to hear from you , ” he says .
Cameo is his main source of income .
His wife , Patti , is also available for booking .
( Forty dollars , “ Political Spouse , ” seated in a leopard chair . )
“ I was sheltering in place for eight years in prison , and , when I suddenly came home , it was time to figure out a way to @ @ @ @ @ @ @ by phone .
“ Some people , like me , leave the shithouse and make Cameos from home .
Others leave the White House and make Cameos from home .
It ’ s freedom .
It ’ s a free market.
” What about Cameos from the Oval Office ?
“ I think Trump would love to do Cameos .
.
.
though I guess he ’ s not allowed to do them from the White House , ” Leopold , the C.O.O.
, said .
“ But we ’ re not the @ @ @ @ @ @ @ Trump is to Twitter what Roosevelt was to fireside chats .
This lets you speak directly to someone.
” He added , “ If Lincoln were still alive , I ’ d find the money for a Cameo from him.
” ♦

What do you do after you’ve been fired from the Trump Administration? In the past, the President’s axed staffers have hoped for jobs at Fox News or fellowships at the Harvard Kennedy School. But a new platform (no application required; work from home) has emerged for those who are willing to say literally anything. Cameo bills itself as an app for “personal video shoutouts from your favorite people”; for fifty dollars, a pseudo-celebrity such as Donald Trump’s disgraced adviser George Papadopoulos will wish your dad a happy Father’s Day, or any other message you might want.
When Cameo launched, in 2017, it trafficked in videos of C-listers such as Tony Hawk doing a “gender reveal” for a baby (price: two hundred dollars) or Caitlyn Jenner saying happy birthday (twenty-five hundred dollars). In recent months, the ex-Trump officials have come pouring in. Anthony Scaramucci used to be Trump’s mouthpiece, but he has extended his reach, offering himself as a spokesperson to anyone who can pay. On Cameo, he holds a pillow that says “MOOCH” and bellows, “I’ll talk about anything, as you guys know. So look me up, dial me in, and tell me what you want me to say to you!” He concludes with a loud kissing noise and promises to respond within three days. (Sebastian Gorka, Trump’s former deputy assistant, guarantees a same-day response.) Roger Stone, Trump’s longtime adviser, whose incarceration has been deferred, has started making Cameos for seventy-five dollars apiece—a quarantine pastime until he’s due in prison, later this month. The former press secretary Sean Spicer is on the app, too. “It’s like the Uber of fan mail,” he said. “People are paying for what they want.”
“Our mission is to create the most authentic connections on earth,” Arthur Leopold, Cameo’s C.O.O., said. “We’ve democratized access to talent and celebrity. You don’t have to go to a fundraiser at the Beverly Hills Hotel anymore.” He added, “Whether it’s Avenatti or Omarosa, they all have dedicated fan bases. People who support Trump think it’s cool to have someone in his inner circle wish them a happy birthday.” But customer reviews are mixed. One user wrote, of Scaramucci, “I appreciate the video, but wish he had sat up or made more of an effort or at least brushed his hair.” Another: “Mr Scaramucci did not identify himself, so this could have been anyone with a NY accent.” (One star.)
There’s one person on Cameo who still works for the President. Although Corey Lewandowski is a senior adviser on Trump’s reëlection campaign, he appears to have ample time to make Cameos, which he films in front of an American flag and a Trump-Pence sign. He tends to insert his politics into his videos, such as when he commended a woman for working hard to “instill conservative values” in her pet pug, Nobu. Tomi Lahren, a Fox Nation host who moonlights on the app, randomly slips pro-Trump phrases into her videos, like “No obstruction, no collusion.”
“The hardest thing to do is to forgive yourself, and I’ve done that, so I don’t know why you can’t forgive me, too.” Cartoon by Barbara Smaller Copy link to cartoon Copy link to cartoon Shop Shop
One of the few Democrats on Cameo is Rod Blagojevich, the former Illinois governor who was in prison for corruption until Trump commuted his sentence, earlier this year. (Trump fired Blagojevich, too—in 2010, on “The Celebrity Apprentice.”) Positioned in his study with a biography of Churchill behind him, Blagojevich advertises himself in a tone one might hear in a hostage video. “If you want a birthday greeting, an anniversary greeting, motivation, or any other kind of shoutout, I can’t wait to hear from you,” he says. Cameo is his main source of income. His wife, Patti, is also available for booking. (Forty dollars, “Political Spouse,” seated in a leopard chair.) “I was sheltering in place for eight years in prison, and, when I suddenly came home, it was time to figure out a way to make a living,” he explained by phone. “Some people, like me, leave the shithouse and make Cameos from home. Others leave the White House and make Cameos from home. It’s freedom. It’s a free market.”
What about Cameos from the Oval Office? “I think Trump would love to do Cameos . . . though I guess he’s not allowed to do them from the White House,” Leopold, the C.O.O., said. “But we’re not the morality police.”
Blagojevich said, “Trump is to Twitter what Roosevelt was to fireside chats. This lets you speak directly to someone.” He added, “If Lincoln were still alive, I’d find the money for a Cameo from him.” ♦
This article has been updated to include the Fox News Media service where Tomi Lahren is a host.


newyorker--2020-06-22--Briefly Noted Book Reviews

Briefly Noted Book Reviews

Death in Her Hands , by Ottessa Moshfegh ( Penguin Press ) .
Moshfegh , known for her screwball subversions of genre tropes and her gleefully grotesque sensibility , here offers a thriller that glitters with jagged details and unfolds mostly inside the protagonist ’ s head .
The unlikely detective is Vesta Gul , an elderly widow , who discovers an ominous note in a forest : “ Her name was Magda .
Nobody will ever know who killed her.
” Trying to solve the mystery , Vesta conjures up characters , backstories , and motives from her impressions @ @ @ @ @ @ @ .
As her mind fills with misanthropic assessments of her world and memories of her controlling late husband ( whom she was devoted to but resentful of ) , the murder of one woman becomes a soundboard for the internal monologue of another .
The Taste of Sugar , by Marisel Vera ( Liveright ) .
This capacious novel tells the story of a Puerto Rican family , against the backdrop of the Spanish-American War , in 1898 .
A young woman , relinquishing a dream of one day seeing Paris , marries @ @ @ @ @ @ @ a role in her new household .
When the U.S. invades , Puerto Ricans welcome the end of Spanish rule , but optimism is short-lived , and the family relocates to the sugar plantations of Hawaii .
The book , yoking family crises to geopolitical ones , succeeds in creating characters who feel individuated rather than schematic .
The coffee farmer , observing his disenchanted bride , wonders , “ Why did all the women in his family stare out the window ?
” Prophetic City , by Stephen L. Klineberg ( Avid @ @ @ @ @ @ @ sociologist , draws on nearly forty years of data in this detailed , accessible portrait of the changing face of Houston , a city known for its free-enterprise ideology .
( Around 1959 , business leaders started to desegregate it , not out of moral revulsion at racial inequality but because the optics were “ bad for business.
” ) Klineberg finds a more tangled reality , a juxtaposition of progressive attitudes and conservative policies , of social inequalities—poverty , homelessness , opportunity gaps—and a striking culture of volunteerism .
Surveying the shifting @ @ @ @ @ @ @ that the city is a harbinger for the country as a whole : “ Houston is America on demographic fast-forward.
” The Price of Peace , by Zachary D. Carter ( Random House ) .
This biography of John Maynard Keynes is also an appraisal of the fluctuating fortunes of his intellectual legacy .
Carter , a financial journalist , ably glosses Keynes ’ s economic ideas and the battles between disciples and detractors since his death , and gives a lively account of his outsized life .
Although Carter admires his subject @ @ @ @ @ @ @ s mistakes and his flair for melodrama .
Assessing Keynes ’ s attack on the Treaty of Versailles—he predicted , correctly , that the terms of the peace would create chaos for Germany and then for Europe—Carter writes that it “ is a provincial , shortsighted , vicious , and in many respects deeply unfair polemic .
It is also a masterpiece .
”

Death in Her Hands, by Ottessa Moshfegh (Penguin Press). Moshfegh, known for her screwball subversions of genre tropes and her gleefully grotesque sensibility, here offers a thriller that glitters with jagged details and unfolds mostly inside the protagonist’s head. The unlikely detective is Vesta Gul, an elderly widow, who discovers an ominous note in a forest: “Her name was Magda. Nobody will ever know who killed her.” Trying to solve the mystery, Vesta conjures up characters, backstories, and motives from her impressions of the small town where she lives. As her mind fills with misanthropic assessments of her world and memories of her controlling late husband (whom she was devoted to but resentful of), the murder of one woman becomes a soundboard for the internal monologue of another.
The Taste of Sugar, by Marisel Vera (Liveright). This capacious novel tells the story of a Puerto Rican family, against the backdrop of the Spanish-American War, in 1898. A young woman, relinquishing a dream of one day seeing Paris, marries a coffee farmer and struggles to find a role in her new household. When the U.S. invades, Puerto Ricans welcome the end of Spanish rule, but optimism is short-lived, and the family relocates to the sugar plantations of Hawaii. The book, yoking family crises to geopolitical ones, succeeds in creating characters who feel individuated rather than schematic. The coffee farmer, observing his disenchanted bride, wonders, “Why did all the women in his family stare out the window?”
Prophetic City, by Stephen L. Klineberg (Avid Reader). The author, a sociologist, draws on nearly forty years of data in this detailed, accessible portrait of the changing face of Houston, a city known for its free-enterprise ideology. (Around 1959, business leaders started to desegregate it, not out of moral revulsion at racial inequality but because the optics were “bad for business.”) Klineberg finds a more tangled reality, a juxtaposition of progressive attitudes and conservative policies, of social inequalities—poverty, homelessness, opportunity gaps—and a striking culture of volunteerism. Surveying the shifting composition of the population, he argues that the city is a harbinger for the country as a whole: “Houston is America on demographic fast-forward.”
The Price of Peace, by Zachary D. Carter (Random House). This biography of John Maynard Keynes is also an appraisal of the fluctuating fortunes of his intellectual legacy. Carter, a financial journalist, ably glosses Keynes’s economic ideas and the battles between disciples and detractors since his death, and gives a lively account of his outsized life. Although Carter admires his subject, he is clear-eyed about Keynes’s mistakes and his flair for melodrama. Assessing Keynes’s attack on the Treaty of Versailles—he predicted, correctly, that the terms of the peace would create chaos for Germany and then for Europe—Carter writes that it “is a provincial, shortsighted, vicious, and in many respects deeply unfair polemic. It is also a masterpiece.”


newyorker--2020-06-22--How to Run a Grassroots Campaign in a Pandemic

Three days after her upset victory over a ten-term congressman in the 2018 Democratic primary , Alexandria Ocasio-Cortez tweeted a photograph of her cracked , battered sneakers .
Some analysts had attributed her win to changing demographics , but she was having none of it .
“ Here ’ s my 1st pair of campaign shoes , ” she wrote .
“ I knocked doors until rainwater came through my soles .
Respect the hustle.
” It was a tribute to old-school progressive campaigning and engagement , her viral videos notwithstanding .
But what if door-knocking and hand-shaking and showing @ @ @ @ @ @ @ church-basement meetings are all off the table , because of a pandemic ?
How does a new candidate get her non-household name in front of voters when she ’ s mostly stuck at home—and when there ’ s a lot else going on ?
That is the challenge facing Lindsey Boylan , the thirty-six-year-old who is running for Congress against Jerry Nadler , in New York ’ s Tenth District .
Her candidacy would be a long shot even in normal times .
Nadler , low-key but likable , is in his fourteenth @ @ @ @ @ @ @ Committee and has been a steady media presence in recent weeks as one of the stewards of the Democrats ’ police-reform bill .
Boylan is part of a wave of progressive candidates who are challenging incumbents , inspired by Ocasio-Cortez and Representative Ayanna Pressley , of Massachusetts , who also knocked off a long-serving , supposedly safe congressman in 2018 .
But Nadler has one advantage those ex-incumbents didn ’ t : A.O.C .
has endorsed him .
By the end of March , Boylan had raised more than seven hundred thousand dollars @ @ @ @ @ @ @ in voters ’ doors , metaphorically speaking .
But how do you ask for more during an economic crisis ?
And how will the combination of a pandemic and New York ’ s first-ever experiment with early voting affect turnout ?
( Election Day is June 23rd . )
A few weeks ago , Boylan was sitting in her apartment , in Chelsea .
( The gerrymandered Tenth District , which looks like Cape Cod rotated ninety degrees , encompasses most of Manhattan ’ s West Side , then skims the Brooklyn waterfront @ @ @ @ @ @ @ and Bay Ridge , before widening out to claim Borough Park and big bites of several other neighborhoods . )
She was hosting a virtual coffee hour on Facebook , the pandemic alternative to canvassing a busy subway station .
Upwards of two dozen people had tuned in , many of whom she seemed to know .
Questions weren ’ t immediately forthcoming , so she filled the time with her thoughts on various issues : systemic racism , economic inequality , student loans .
Still no questions ?
She could keep talking @ @ @ @ @ @ @ said , adding , “ At this point sometimes I feel like a standup comedian , even though I ’ m not that funny.
” The admission actually was sort of funny , at least by politician standards ; it was definitely disarming .
So was the way she talked about increasing access to mental-health care ( a core issue for her ) and about her own therapy sessions , which , she said , were essential “ to rationalize all the new experiences that happen to you when you ’ re running @ @ @ @ @ @ @ case against Nadler is that the congressman , while reliably progressive , hasn ’ t been very effective .
By Boylan ’ s lights , he dragged his heels on whether to impeach President Trump , and many feel that he did a lacklustre job managing his committee ’ s eventual hearings .
Boylan ’ s pitch—basically : I ’ m new blood—is underscored by her wonky energy and a kind of “ What do I have to lose ?
” enthusiasm for typing “ fuck ” and “ shit ” a lot @ @ @ @ @ @ @ extent an anti-Nadler vote exists , she will have to share it with a third candidate , Jonathan Herzog , a law-school student who helped organize Andrew Yang ’ s Presidential campaign .
Boylan isn ’ t a complete novice .
In an update of the mythic moment in 1963 when sixteen-year-old Bill Clinton shook hands with President John F. Kennedy , Boylan waited outside a Senate hearing room in 2001 , as a high schooler , in order to meet Hillary Clinton , then a new senator .
( “ It changed @ @ @ @ @ @ @ said . )
Following in Clinton ’ s footsteps , she went to Wellesley and became student-body president .
She later got an M.B.A. at Columbia and , again like Clinton , spent time in both the private and the public sectors , including an unhappy year as deputy secretary for economic development under Governor Andrew Cuomo .
“ It was absolutely the most toxic experience of my life , ” she told the virtual coffee group , alluding to a work environment rife with “ egos ” and “ pissing contests.
” @ @ @ @ @ @ @ March 13th , when she handed out flyers on Broadway and 110th Street .
But , as the city has started to open back up , she has ventured tentatively outdoors , attending several Black Lives Matter protests , including the June 14th rally for black transgender lives in front of the Brooklyn Museum .
“ I met so many New Yorkers , ” she tweeted that weekend .
“ I had such wonderful conversations.
” She also posted a picture of herself posing next to a rack of pastries at a Mexican @ @ @ @ @ @ @ a classic New York campaign stop , but for her face mask .
♦

Three days after her upset victory over a ten-term congressman in the 2018 Democratic primary, Alexandria Ocasio-Cortez tweeted a photograph of her cracked, battered sneakers. Some analysts had attributed her win to changing demographics, but she was having none of it. “Here’s my 1st pair of campaign shoes,” she wrote. “I knocked doors until rainwater came through my soles. Respect the hustle.” It was a tribute to old-school progressive campaigning and engagement, her viral videos notwithstanding. But what if door-knocking and hand-shaking and showing up for parades and community festivals and church-basement meetings are all off the table, because of a pandemic? How does a new candidate get her non-household name in front of voters when she’s mostly stuck at home—and when there’s a lot else going on?
That is the challenge facing Lindsey Boylan, the thirty-six-year-old who is running for Congress against Jerry Nadler, in New York’s Tenth District. Her candidacy would be a long shot even in normal times. Nadler, low-key but likable, is in his fourteenth term; he chairs the House Judiciary Committee and has been a steady media presence in recent weeks as one of the stewards of the Democrats’ police-reform bill. Boylan is part of a wave of progressive candidates who are challenging incumbents, inspired by Ocasio-Cortez and Representative Ayanna Pressley, of Massachusetts, who also knocked off a long-serving, supposedly safe congressman in 2018. But Nadler has one advantage those ex-incumbents didn’t: A.O.C. has endorsed him.
By the end of March, Boylan had raised more than seven hundred thousand dollars, enough to maybe get her foot in voters’ doors, metaphorically speaking. But how do you ask for more during an economic crisis? And how will the combination of a pandemic and New York’s first-ever experiment with early voting affect turnout? (Election Day is June 23rd.)
A few weeks ago, Boylan was sitting in her apartment, in Chelsea. (The gerrymandered Tenth District, which looks like Cape Cod rotated ninety degrees, encompasses most of Manhattan’s West Side, then skims the Brooklyn waterfront, taking in slices of Red Hook and Bay Ridge, before widening out to claim Borough Park and big bites of several other neighborhoods.) She was hosting a virtual coffee hour on Facebook, the pandemic alternative to canvassing a busy subway station. Upwards of two dozen people had tuned in, many of whom she seemed to know. Questions weren’t immediately forthcoming, so she filled the time with her thoughts on various issues: systemic racism, economic inequality, student loans. Still no questions? She could keep talking “day and night,” she said, adding, “At this point sometimes I feel like a standup comedian, even though I’m not that funny.” The admission actually was sort of funny, at least by politician standards; it was definitely disarming. So was the way she talked about increasing access to mental-health care (a core issue for her) and about her own therapy sessions, which, she said, were essential “to rationalize all the new experiences that happen to you when you’re running for Congress.”
The thrust of her case against Nadler is that the congressman, while reliably progressive, hasn’t been very effective. By Boylan’s lights, he dragged his heels on whether to impeach President Trump, and many feel that he did a lacklustre job managing his committee’s eventual hearings. Boylan’s pitch—basically: I’m new blood—is underscored by her wonky energy and a kind of “What do I have to lose?” enthusiasm for typing “fuck” and “shit” a lot on Twitter. But, to whatever extent an anti-Nadler vote exists, she will have to share it with a third candidate, Jonathan Herzog, a law-school student who helped organize Andrew Yang’s Presidential campaign.
Boylan isn’t a complete novice. In an update of the mythic moment in 1963 when sixteen-year-old Bill Clinton shook hands with President John F. Kennedy, Boylan waited outside a Senate hearing room in 2001, as a high schooler, in order to meet Hillary Clinton, then a new senator. (“It changed my life, obviously,” Boylan said.) Following in Clinton’s footsteps, she went to Wellesley and became student-body president. She later got an M.B.A. at Columbia and, again like Clinton, spent time in both the private and the public sectors, including an unhappy year as deputy secretary for economic development under Governor Andrew Cuomo. “It was absolutely the most toxic experience of my life,” she told the virtual coffee group, alluding to a work environment rife with “egos” and “pissing contests.”
Her last pre-shutdown campaign event was on March 13th, when she handed out flyers on Broadway and 110th Street. But, as the city has started to open back up, she has ventured tentatively outdoors, attending several Black Lives Matter protests, including the June 14th rally for black transgender lives in front of the Brooklyn Museum. “I met so many New Yorkers,” she tweeted that weekend. “I had such wonderful conversations.” She also posted a picture of herself posing next to a rack of pastries at a Mexican bakery in Midwood. It looked like a classic New York campaign stop, but for her face mask. ♦