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Lit Trivia: Do You Know Which Books Inspired These Songs?
Lit Trivia: Do You Know Which Books Inspired These Songs? – The New York Times
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- in Theater
Review: ‘Drive Your Plow Over the Bones of the Dead’ in London
The British experimental theater company Complicité turns the Nobel laureate Olga Tokarczuk’s novel “Drive Your Plow Over the Bones of the Dead” into a thought-provoking, entertaining spectacle.Some books lend themselves to stage adaptation more than others, and the experimental theater company Complicité has a strong track record of turning awkward novels into plays. The British troupe, led by the director Simon McBurney, has already created acclaimed productions from Mikhail Bulgakov’s “The Master and Margarita” and Max Porter’s “Grief Is the Thing With Feathers.”Complicité’s latest show is a suitably idiosyncratic treatment of “Drive Your Plow Over the Bones of the Dead,” the surreal eco-thriller by the Polish author and Nobel laureate Olga Tokarczuk. It runs at the Barbican Theater in London through April 1, then tours Britain before playing at some major European venues and festivals, including the Ruhrtriennale in Germany, and the Odéon — Théâtre de l’Europe in Paris.Tokarczuk’s novel revolves around a series of grisly murders in a remote village in southern Poland. The narrator-protagonist, Janina, a semiretired teacher and passionate animal lover in her 60s, takes a keen interest in the case, pestering the local police force with her unsolicited insights and pushing a bizarre theory that, since all the victims were avid hunters or poachers, the murders must have been carried out by animals as an act of revenge. Along the way she holds forth on animal cruelty, astrology and her love of the English poet William Blake.Complicité’s decision to foreground these freewheeling digressions is to be commended: This is not a conventional whodunit but, rather, a kind of fable. The production’s blend of philosophical purpose and irreverent humor rings true to the book’s spirit, and makes for an entertaining and thought-provoking spectacle.The spine of the play is a spotlit monologue by Janina, who dips in and out of the action as it unfolds around her. Amanda Hadingue — standing in for Kathryn Hunter, who has been unwell — brings a disarmingly self-effacing grace to the lead role, ensuring Janina retains the audience’s sympathy, even as she rails abrasively against the industrial slaughter of animals, the hypocrisy of organized religion and the unquestioning passivity of her fellow townspeople.Indeed, the entire production is delivered with a playful esprit that borders on the pantomimic: Self-important cops are played for laughs, as is the supercilious local priest; there are charming cameos from animals played by humans — a dog here, a fox there; and César Sarachu almost steals the show in a wonderfully droll performance as Janina’s endearingly hapless neighbor, Oddball.Interiority is the perennial challenge when adapting literary novels for stage or screen. A slick 2017 movie adaptation of “Drive Your Plow” called “Spoor,” by the Polish director Agnieszka Holland, rendered it as a straight-up nor thriller. It was well wrought but inevitably one-dimensional: Janina’s distinctive narrative voice, which treads a fine line between eccentric and downright cranky, is integral to the novel’s charm; the story feels flat without it. Complicité’s adaptation neatly sidesteps this problem by juxtaposing the inner and outer worlds in a way that feels lively and dynamic.From left: Maria, Uzoka, Sophie Steer, Kathryn Hunter, Amanda Hadingue and Tim McMullan. The company’s director is known for his exuberant use of audiovisual effects.Marc BrennerMcBurney, the director, is known for his exuberant use of audiovisual effects, and his team have conjured an impressive sensory texture here. A big screen at the rear of the stage displays eye-catching images that complement the action. Some are scene-setting, such as snowy landscapes evoking the bitterly cold Polish winter; others, such as a series of detailed drawings of horoscope charts, are thematic.Richard Skelton’s atmospheric score alternates between brooding suspense and doleful solemnity, though the sound designer Christopher Shutt is maybe a little too trigger-happy with the sudden loud noises: I feared for some of the older theatregoers, but it certainly kept the audience alert.Rae Smith’s costume design is understatedly on point: Janina pads around in a jarringly mismatched sports-casual ensemble that is precisely the kind of thing an unabashed eccentric might wear, and the local huntsmen look appropriately forbidding in their uniformly dark puffer jackets.Clocking in at 2 hours and 45 minutes, “Drive Your Plow” is a bit too long. A subplot about Janina’s unspecified chronic illness (“my ailments”) could perhaps have been significantly abridged, or even cut, to give the play a zippier feel. But its shortcomings are essentially those of the novel: its single-track didacticism; its neat pitting of romantic idealists against macho, insentient normies; and the fact that a decisive plot twist can be spotted a mile off.Complicité is no stranger to politics: “The Encounter,” adapted in 2016 from a novel by the Romanian-American author Petru Popescu, addressed environmental destruction in the Amazon; the company’s 2015 children’s play “Lionboy” touched on the ethically dubious machinations of Big Pharma. Crucially, the company’s dissident ethos extends to form as well as subject matter. “Drive Your Plow’s” parable of hubris offers considerable food for thought as we continue to hurtle toward climate disaster: Janina is a Cassandra figure for the 21st century, a voice of reason doomed to be met with indifference, condescension or ridicule. The political message is deadly earnest. Thankfully, Complicité serves it up with a dose of fun.Drive Your Plow Over the Bones of the DeadThrough April 1 at the Barbican Theater in London, then touring in Europe through June 17; complicite.org. More
- in Television
Bill Zehme, Author With a Knack for Humanizing the Famous, Dies at 64
A prolific biographer, he charmed his way into access to, and insights about, Frank Sinatra, Hugh Hefner, Johnny Carson and many others.Bill Zehme, whose biographies and magazine profiles humanized the celebrities he described as “intimate strangers” — the “shy, succinct” Johnny Carson; the “blank” Warren Beatty; Frank Sinatra, whose “battle cry” was “fun with everything, and I mean fun!” — died on Sunday in Chicago. He was 64.His partner, Jennifer Engstrom, said the cause was colorectal cancer.Mr. Zehme’s biography of Mr. Sinatra, “The Way You Wear Your Hat: Frank Sinatra and the Lost Art of Livin’” (1997), was a best seller. He also shared the author credit on best-selling memoirs by Regis Philbin (“I’m Only One Man!” in 1995 and “Who Wants to Be Me?” in 2000) and Jay Leno (“Leading With My Chin” in 1996).His other books included “Intimate Strangers: Comic Profiles and Indiscretions of the Very Famous” (2002), “Lost in the Funhouse: The Life and Mind of Andy Kaufman” (1999) and “Hef’s Little Black Book” (2004), a stream-of-consciousness collaboration with Hugh M. Hefner, the founder and publisher of Playboy magazine.Mr. Zehme’s biography of Frank Sinatra, published in 1997, was a best seller, and he and Mr. Sinatra remained close.Mr. Zehme (pronounced ZAY-mee) conducted what is widely believed to have been the last major interview with Johnny Carson, whom he called “the great American Sphinx” and whom the CBS anchor Walter Cronkite called “the most durable performer in the whole history of television” when Mr. Carson retired in 1992 after some 4,500 episodes of “The Tonight Show.”Mr. Zehme’s “Carson the Magnificent: An Intimate Portrait” was published in 2007, but he never completed the full-fledged biography he had planned.The Chicago-born Mr. Zehme was often said to have cultivated recalcitrant sources with his Midwestern charm. His portraits were not hagiography, but neither were they tell-alls, and he remained close to some of the subjects he interviewed, including Mr. Sinatra and Mr. Hefner.“Bill didn’t dig around for dirt or comb through the proverbial closet hunting for skeletons,” David Hirshey, a former deputy editor of Esquire magazine, said by email. “What interested him was more subtle than that. Zehme looked for the quirks in behavior and speech that revealed a person’s character, and he had an uncanny ability to put his subjects at ease with a mixture of gentle playfulness and genuine empathy.”That’s why,” Mr. Hirshey continued, “Sharon Stone covered by nothing but a sheet allowed Bill to interview her while lying side by side as they enjoyed a couples massage.”Mr. Carson, Mr. Zehme wrote in an essay for PBS in conjunction with an “American Masters” documentary on him, “rose to reign iconic as the smooth midnight sentinel king whose political japes and cultural enthusiasms mightily swayed popular taste at whim or wink.” That wink, Mr. Zehme noted, transmitted “surefire stardom to aspiring personalities, especially comedians, and privileged co-conspiracy to regular viewers who became his spontaneous partners in sly mockery.”Andy Kaufman, Mr. Zehme wrote, was “a pioneering practitioner of various cultural trends long before they ever became trends.”Delacorte PressOf Mr. Beatty, Mr. Zehme wrote: “He speaks slowly, fearfully, cautiously, editing every syllable, slicing off personal color and spontaneous wit, steering away from opinion, introspection, humanness. He is mostly evasive. His pauses are elephantine. Broadway musicals could be mounted during his pauses. He works at this. Ultimately, he renders himself blank.“In ‘Dick Tracy,’ he battles a mysterious foe called the Blank. In life, he is the Blank doing battle with himself. It is a fascinating showdown, exhilarating to behold. To interview Warren Beatty is to want to kill him.”Mr. Zehme provided tips from Mr. Sinatra about what men should never do in the presence of a woman (yawn) and about the finer points of his haberdashery: “He wore only snap-brim Cavanaughs — fine felts and porous palmettos — and these were his crowns, cocked askew, as defiant as he was.”“Mr. Sinatra’s gauge for when a hat looked just right,” Mr. Zehme wrote, was “when no one laughs.”He described the unorthodox and at times controversial comedian Andy Kaufman as “the pre-eminent put-on artist of his generation” and “a pioneering practitioner of various cultural trends long before they ever became trends.”William Christian Zehme was born on Oct. 28, 1958, the grandson of a Danish immigrant. His parents, Robert and Suzanne (Clemensen) Zehme, owned a flower shop in Flossmoor, a village south of Chicago and not far from South Holland, where Bill was raised.Mr. Zehme in 2017. “Bill didn’t dig around for dirt or comb through the proverbial closet hunting for skeletons,” a colleague said. “What interested him was more subtle than that.”Loyola University Chicago School of CommunicationHe graduated from Loyola University in Chicago in 1980 with a degree in journalism.One of his first books was “The Rolling Stone Book of Comedy” (1991). In 2004, he won a National Magazine Award for his profile of the newspaper columnist Bob Greene.In addition to Ms. Engstrom, Mr. Zehme is survived by Lucy Reeves, a daughter from his marriage to Tina Zimmel, which ended in divorce; and a sister, Betsy Archer.Mr. Zehme bridled at being identified as a celebrity biographer, although most of the people he profiled had been famous long before he wrote about them. They had not, however, seemed as familiar as next-door neighbors until Mr. Zehme wrote about them.“The celebrity profile is the bastard stepchild of journalism, and I’m embarrassed sometimes to be associated with it,” he told Chicago magazine in 1996.“The truth is, I have never written about a celebrity,” Mr. Zehme wrote in “Intimate Strangers.” “I have always written about humans, replete with human traits and foibles and issues, who also happen to be famous.” More
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‘Nemesis’ Review: A Philip Roth Adaptation Resonates
The American writer’s last novel becomes surprisingly effective theater in the hands of Tiphaine Raffier at the Odéon-Théâtre de l’Europe.You can imagine directors being warned away from adapting the work of Philip Roth. The film versions of his novels have been panned so consistently that a writer for The Atlantic in 2014 called for them to stop. Few playhouses have even attempted to translate them for the stage.Yet a young French theater director, Tiphaine Raffier, just proved that it can be done. On Friday — the ongoing strikes over France’s pension changes delayed the opening by a day — she unveiled an absorbing, ingenious adaptation of Roth’s final book, “Nemesis,” on the second stage of Paris’s Odéon-Théâtre de l’Europe. All it took was two hours and 45 minutes, without an intermission; a cast of nearly 30, including eight children and five musicians; and the refashioning of an entire portion of the plot into a musical, complete with original songs.And that’s for one of Roth’s most concise novels. Set in 1944, “Nemesis” is centered on Bucky, a summertime playground director from Newark, N.J., who is caught in the middle of a polio epidemic in his Jewish neighborhood. The children he works with start dying, at a terrifying pace. After he escapes to Indian Hill, an idyllic summer camp in the Poconos, the disease catches up with his charges there, too.Raffier states in the playbill that the novel’s subject matter struck her in the wake of the Covid-19 pandemic, but she steers clear of too-obvious parallels. What she evokes instead in compelling fashion is the moral complexity of “Nemesis,” especially the characters’ desperate need for an explanation of the unexplainable — a virus that appears to strike at random, because the means of transmission were still something of a mystery.It’s familiar terrain for Raffier, who created her company in 2015. Two years ago, she wrote and directed “La Réponse des Hommes” (“The Human Response”), a freewheeling, overlong play inspired by the Christian works of mercy, from feeding the hungry to caring for the sick, that explored the thorny notion of “doing good.” In “Nemesis,” however, her penchant for long-form theater — Raffier, a trained actor, has also been seen in the marathon productions of the French director Julien Gosselin — is balanced with greater control and urgency.In her hands, the three parts of the novel strike starkly different tones. The first takes place on a shadowy stage, lit through shutters on all three sides. Conversations are in turns hushed and high-pitched, in tune with the characters’ paranoia as polio spreads from child to child. Could the virus have come from the wind? Hot dogs? A group of Italians, or a disabled local man named Horace, whom teenagers attempt to wash with ammonia?The main character of “Nemesis” flees his New Jersey home for a summer camp in the Poconos.Simon GosselinRaffier highlights the contrasts between the suffocating Newark neighborhood — at “war” with polio, as Roth describes it — and Indian Hill. The sets change to reveal glorious, panoramic mountain views, printed on a semicircular curtain. Immaculately dressed children from the Conservatory of Saint-Denis, a suburb of Paris, play the happy campers (though they could use more direction). When Bucky, who has fled to join his girlfriend Marcia as a counselor, is greeted by camp staffers, they instantly launch into song.“You’ll get cooler here,” one intones. “Welcome to paradise.”While this musical pivot 75 minutes into “Nemesis,” sounds odd for the first few scenes, it works as a metaphor. Musical theater is associated in France with happy-go-lucky American exceptionalism, and here it feels absurdly bright, leaving Bucky — who blames himself for abandoning his neighborhood — dumbstruck.To drive this point home, while the rest of the show is based on the French translation of “Nemesis,” by Marie-Claire Pasquier, the songs — credited to Guillaume Bachelé — are all in English. It’s an understandable choice, even though some of the performers aren’t fully equipped to handle them. (Additionally, like all Odéon productions, “Nemesis” is presented with English subtitles on Fridays. Unfortunately, the only screen is right above the edge of the stage, all but invisible from the first few rows.)In the role of the younger Bucky, Alexandre Gonin finds a sense of awkward seriousness that never tips over into dullness. A narrator speaks in voice-over throughout, and early on, it’s easy to assume it’s Bucky; as in Roth’s novel, however, we later learn that the narrator is Arnie, one of the children from the Newark playground who contracted polio. Onstage, Arnie (Maxime Dambrin), is revealed to have been narrating behind the scenes from the beginning.The final section, which is also the shortest, brings the adult Arnie together with a much older Bucky. Both characters suffer from the aftereffects of polio, yet they face off with entirely different perspectives on what happened. Bucky is consumed by lifelong guilt over the role he may have played in spreading polio, while Arnie argues for a life well lived and not limited by disability.As Bucky, the bilingual American actor Stuart Seide is brilliantly cantankerous, and Dambrin, who has a form of neuropathy that affects his ability to walk, makes a heartfelt match for him. “Chance is everything,” Dambrin pleads.At this point, it feels as if we’ve lived a life with these characters and their contradictions. It’s a feat Roth often managed on the page. For Raffier to match it onstage is a career-launching achievement.‘Nemesis’Through April 21, at the Odéon-Théâtre de l’Europe (Ateliers Berthier) in Paris; theatre-odeon.eu. More
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In ‘Songs of Surrender’, U2 Revisits Its Past
With “Songs of Surrender,” an album of 40 reimagined songs, and “A Sort of Homecoming,” a documentary on Disney+, the Irish band pauses to reflect.For decades, U2 refused to rest on its catalog. A rarity among bands for having kept the same lineup since its formation in 1976 — Bono on lead vocals, the Edge on guitar and keyboards, Adam Clayton on bass and Larry Mullen Jr. on drums — U2 has headlined arenas since the early 1980s. It determinedly brought new songs to huge audiences as recently as 2018, when it mounted its Experience + Innocence Tour.The band did allow itself a 30th anniversary stadium tour to reprise its biggest release, the 1987 album “The Joshua Tree,” in 2017 and 2019. And now, in the pandemic era, U2 is looking back even further.Its new album, “Songs of Surrender,” remakes 40 U2 songs with largely acoustic arrangements. U2 has also booked a Las Vegas residency for the fall, when it will revisit its 1991 masterpiece, “Achtung Baby,” in a newly built arena, the MSG Sphere. In a startling change, the band will have a substitute drummer, Bram van den Berg, rather than Mullen, who has been dealing with injuries to his elbows, knees and neck.Bono, 62, published his memoir, “Surrender,” in fall of 2022, using 40 U2 songs as chapter headings. On St. Patrick’s Day, the (Irish) band is releasing a Disney+ documentary, “Bono & the Edge: A Sort of Homecoming, With Dave Letterman,” alongside “Songs of Surrender.”U2’s career has been one of triumphs, misfires and moving on. In the 1980s, the group was earnest and expansive, creating a chiming, marching, larger-than-life rock sound that countless bands would emulate. In the 1990s, leery of its own pretensions, U2 remade itself with electronic beats and artifice until it came to a dead end with its 1997 album, “Pop.” In the 2000s, it circled back to rock beats and sincerity, but its music was pervasively infused with the latest technology.From the beginning, U2 has worked on the largest scale: sometimes to magnificent effect, like its 2002 Super Bowl halftime show that memorialized Sept. 11, and sometimes badly backfiring, like the giveaway of its 2014 album, “Songs of Innocence,” that forced the album into iTunes libraries worldwide, often unwanted. “Songs of Surrender” is an act of renunciation, drastically scaling down songs that once strove to shake entire stadiums.Remake albums are always fraught. They offer second thoughts rather than discoveries, revisions rather than inspirations. They also remind listeners, and no doubt performers, of time slipping away.In recent years, extraordinary songwriters like Paul Simon and Natalie Merchant have made albums that revisit their old songs with decidedly different arrangements; they’re thoughtful and musicianly, but wan. Even Taylor Swift’s ongoing series of “Taylor’s Version” remakes — reclaiming her old albums by making every effort to replicate them note for note — can’t quite match her more youthful voice or the precise overtones of every mix.Among U2’s three retrospective projects, Bono’s book is by far the most vivid. “Surrender” leapfrogs through Bono’s and U2’s improbable story in vignettes that zigzag between poetic and prosaic, devout and skeptical, privileged and conscientious, mystical and political.The book’s messages about faith, friendship and family are reprised — sometimes in near-literal quotes — in “A Sort of Homecoming.” It’s an awkward project that skims through U2’s career while David Letterman serves as both modest interlocutor and celebrity star-tripper.The documentary mixes biographical interviews and bits of Ireland’s history, and it stages two performances: a concert by Bono and the Edge with a choir and strings at Dublin’s Ambassador Theater, and a singalong at a pub that’s not exactly impromptu. It just happens to include U2-influenced Irish musicians like Glen Hansard, Imelda May and Dermot Kennedy. “A Sort of Homecoming” also digresses, pointlessly, with attempts at comedy recalling Letterman’s “Late Show” shticks. A new Bono-Edge song, dedicated to Letterman, isn’t exactly prime U2.“Songs of Surrender” is the weightier project. Like all of U2’s albums, it’s anything but casual; the songs have been minutely reconsidered. Some get different lyrics: changing present tense to past tense in “Red Hill Mining Town,” clarifying that “Bad” is about drug addiction, swapping in new verses in “Beautiful Day” and “Get Out of Your Own Way,” rewriting “Walk On” to allude to the war in Ukraine.The album sets out to recast U2’s arena anthems as private conversations. Bono croons as if he’s singing quietly into your ear, and most of the arrangements rely on acoustic guitar or piano — like MTV’s old “Unplugged” shows, but by no means devoid of studio enhancements.“Unplugged” was MTV’s tribute to the recording-business cliché that a great song only needs chords and a voice to reveal its quality, as if everything else is embellishment. Yes and no. Melody, harmony and lyrics say a lot, but production can be transformative. Songs engrave themselves in fans’ memories — and lives — not just for their words and music, but for their sheer sound. We can recognize a favorite oldie from an opening guitar tone or a drumbeat. And the more we’ve taken a song to heart, the more its sonic details resonate.U2 got together in the era when punk insisted that anyone, trained or not, could make vital music. But even during that movement, musicians and producers understood how much texture matters. Recording in the analog era was a costly, intentional effort, and low-budget, lo-fi recordings could still create high intensity.One of U2’s enduring strengths has been the way its songs ennoble yearning and turbulence. Bono sings about self-questioning and contradictions with a voice that might scratch or falter but pushes ahead, unabashedly working itself up to shouts and howls. And the band’s martial drums, chiming guitars and inexorable crescendos create arena-size superstructures filled with rhythmic — and emotional — crosscurrents.The remakes on “Songs of Surrender” often strip away too much. In the original 1983 “Sunday Bloody Sunday,” a song about a terrorist bombing during Ireland’s “troubles,” the track evokes sirens and gunshots while Bono sounds both desperate and furious, right in the middle of the strife. The remake, with a lone acoustic guitar, recasts the song as something between a lullaby and lament, crooned as if it’s a learned memory.“Out of Control,” which in 1979 had jabbing, buttonholing electric guitar and bass lines, has become a cozy, cheerfully strummed self-affirmation, very much in control. And the surging, cathartic peaks of songs like “With or Without You,” “Vertigo,” and “Pride (in the Name of Love)” are far too muted in the remakes.“Songs of Surrender” does have a few clever second thoughts about U2’s catalog. A brass band lends historical gravity to “Red Hill Mining Town,” while “Two Hearts Beat as One” — with lyrics that insist, “Can’t stop to dance” — gets a wry disco makeover. The album’s subdued arrangements and upfront vocals offer a chance to focus on lyrics that were obscured in the onrush of U2’s original versions.But for most of “Songs of Surrender,” less is simply less. What comes across throughout the 40 songs is not intimacy, but distance: the inescapable fact that these songs are being rethought and revived years later, not created anew. Wild original impulses have been replaced by latter-day self-consciousness. And U2, like most artists, is better off looking ahead than looking back. More
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Ann Napolitano’s New Novel, “Hello Beautiful,” Is the 100th Pick of Oprah’s Book Club
Ann Napolitano toiled in obscurity for years. Novels went unpublished; agents turned her down. She found recognition with “Dear Edward.” Then came the call: “Hello Beautiful” was the 100th pick for what is arguably the most influential book club in the world.Listen to This ArticleTo hear more audio stories from publications like The New York Times, download Audm for iPhone or Android.Maybe it was fate, maybe it was the meddling of a higher power with a wicked sense of humor. Either way, Ann Napolitano was taking out the garbage when Oprah Winfrey called to tell her that her novel, “Hello Beautiful,” is the 100th selection for what is arguably the most influential book club in the world.Napolitano was so afraid of losing the connection that she stood stock-still in the tiny vestibule of her Park Slope apartment building, clutching her bag of trash, for the duration of the 27-minute call.To be clear, we’re talking about Oprah’s Book Club — the O.G. reading group, trusty launching pad to the best-seller list and sourdough starter for dozens of iterations, celebrity sponsored and otherwise. Yes, Booktok is nipping at Winfrey’s heels, especially where young readers are concerned, but her endorsement is still a golden ticket.In the 26 years since Oprah’s Book Club announced “The Deep End of the Ocean” as its inaugural pick, the literary world has adjusted to the internet, electronic readers, smartphones and social media. Imprints closed, publishing houses consolidated, bookstores sprouted coffee shops and stopped selling CDs — and, through it all, the club established itself as a force, burnishing the careers of Wally Lamb, Cheryl Strayed, Lalita Tademy, Uwen Akpam, Isabel Wilkerson and Ta-Nehisi Coates, to name a few.Its machinations are still shrouded in mystery. Boxes of anointed books arrive at stores the day before a title’s publication date, to reduce the risk that customers will catch a glimpse of the club’s signature seal on a cover. Authors, agents and publishers are asked to sign nondisclosure agreements.“Hello Beautiful,” Napolitano’s fourth novel, came out Tuesday from The Dial Press and Winfrey announced it as her 100th book club selection on “CBS Mornings.” Only now, almost five months after Napolitano’s conversation with Winfrey, can the author share the news with her sons, who are 13 and 15.So how did “Hello Beautiful” land on Winfrey’s radar? And what was it like for Napolitano to get the nod? The short answers are simple and obvious (It’s a great book! She was thrilled!), but the expanded versions prove the equalizing power of a good story.Sitting in front of a lush Hawaii hillside that looked like a fake Zoom background but definitely wasn’t, Winfrey talked about the challenge of finding her 100th pick. The symbolic weight of it was on her mind. She wanted to find a book that would engage “every different sector of the population,” one she could recommend from an “authentically enthusiastic space.”“I went through many, many, many books, reading two and three at a time,” Winfrey said, projecting her familiar voice over the sound of rowdy bird song.“We’re separated from the world by our own edges,” Charlie Padavano says to one of his daughters in “Hello Beautiful.” He continues, “We’re all interconnected, and when you see that, you see how beautiful life is.”“I continue to choose what I love,” said Winfrey, pictured here with Ta-Nehisi Coates, author of “The Water Dancer,” her 81st pick. “I continue to be motivated by what touches my own spirit, what I think is going to allow people to sense a vulnerability in the characters, in whatever the narrative is, that opens the aperture for greater possibility for people.”Michele Crowe/CBS via Getty ImagesNone of the candidates had the universal appeal Winfrey was looking for.The vast majority of prospective titles go through a vetting process after publishers and agents present them to the book club, but “Hello Beautiful” took an unusual path. Winfrey’s friend, Richard Lovett, co-chairman of Creative Artists Agency, mentioned that Michelle Weiner, the co-head of CAA’s books department, had a novel she thought Winfrey would be interested in.“Every time somebody suggests that, it’s never true. It’s never something I actually want to read,” Winfrey said. “I was like, OK, send it to me.”She devoured “Hello Beautiful” on a rainy day in front of her fireplace, curled up with a blanket and her dog. She said, “I was like 30 pages in and said, OK, this is the book. You cannot read it without being opened. It just opens you in ways you didn’t know were closed.”The novel follows four sisters — Julia, Sylvie, Cecilia and Emeline Padavano — through decades of love, loss and (major) secret keeping. One falls in love with another’s ex-husband and the fallout is as complicated as you’d expect; somehow Napolitano persuades you to leave judgment at the door. The prevailing message is about the indomitability of family.“Not since Jo and Meg and Amy and Beth have we seen sisters like this, with this kind of connection, and written so vividly that you feel like you’re in that home,” Winfrey said. “You’re experiencing life with them. I am telling you, the ending? I mourned. What an extraordinary writer Ann is.”“It financially changed our lives,” Napolitano said of the sale of “Dear Edward” in a heated auction. “We bought a bed. That was the only thing we bought. My husband and I needed a new bed; my bed was from my parents’ house. I was 46 years old.”Elinor Carucci for The New York TimesThe iconic talk show host isn’t your average bookworm, but when she starts talking about what it’s like to fall in love with a novel —“Something starts whispering to me,” Winfrey said, “and I want to know more and I want to know more and I want to know more.” — it’s hard to tell the difference.“What I’m always trying to do is allow people to be lifted by the story somehow, and to see themselves — the people they know, their life — and come away feeling more connected,” Winfrey said. “Ann is one of those authors who’s able to do that without wearing it on her sleeve, without putting it out there in such a way that you feel preached to.”Napolitano’s third book, “Dear Edward,” was a best seller, a Read With Jenna pick and the basis for an 10-episode Apple TV + series starring Connie Britton. The book has sold nearly 400,000 copies.But until “Dear Edward” sold in a 10-imprint auction in 2018, Napolitano’s career was rife with rejection and disappointment. She wrote two novels that never sold. Her father was so concerned about her prospects that he paid for a full-day career test that flagged her potential as a park ranger.Napolitano struggled with depression. After being turned down by 80 agents, she signed with one who, sadly, died a few years later. She juggled a series of jobs — teaching, editing, corporate and educational writing, working as a personal assistant for Sting and Trudie Styler — while carving out short windows of time for her novel in progress. She couldn’t afford child care. At one point, Napolitano and her husband, Dan Wilde, had no health insurance. Her second published book, “A Good Hard Look,” (2011) took seven years to write, and “Dear Edward” (2020) took eight.“I’ve always had low expectations,” Napolitano said during an interview in a conference room at Random House. “Everything went so slowly or badly that all I wanted was a chance to do it again. I have to keep writing. I wasn’t ever counting on success.”Getting the call from Winfrey was, she said, “one of the most exciting things that’s ever happened to me in my life. I felt like I went into full menopause because my whole body system was just adrenalized and it was so crazy.”Napolitano was both tickled and horrified that, while she was reeling from the news, Winfrey launched into a series of questions about her writing process: “In that moment I was like, This is mean! That Oprah Winfrey thinks she can call you and expect you to have an intelligent conversation with her with no warning!”Napolitano started working on “Hello Beautiful” during the early days of the pandemic lockdown. “I was trying to find connection and love, and I needed that house with those loud sisters,” she said. “It really did feel like I needed this book.”Elinor Carucci for The New York TimesShe remembered how, at the end of their phone call, Winfrey said, “Writers are my rock stars and you’re a rock star.” Still shaky with disbelief, Napolitano unloaded her trash and walked a block to feed the meter in a two-hour parking lot. It was Oct. 20, 2022, the eve of her 51st birthday, the kind of crisp afternoon that lights Brooklyn like a movie set.Napolitano’s agent, Julie Barer, and her editor, Whitney Frick, had already heard from Winfrey’s team and were waiting for Napolitano to get the news. “I was running to my kids’ school and Julie texted me and said, ‘She called Ann!’ And I knew exactly what that meant,” said Frick, who is vice president, editor in chief at The Dial Press. “It’s really fun when good things happen for good people.”Barer, who is a partner at The Book Group, said,“Ann is extremely humble and hardworking. She’s no drama. She has an enormous heart and a tremendous capacity for compassion, and I think she brings that to her writing — about the messiness of relationships, and about forgiveness and empathy. It’s not like she’s Pollyanna; she’s not saying it’s all going to be great. Just that it’s going to be OK, and we’re in it together.”The three of them celebrated with a three-way chat. Then Napolitano finally went home and told her husband — who never second-guessed her writing career, even during lean times — why it had taken her so long to dispose of the garbage.“Ann walked in wearing a coat and said, ‘Oprah Winfrey just called me on my phone,’” Wilde recalled in an email. “Her eyes were wide with adrenaline, a contrast from her default steadiness. The first thought that came to mind was ‘Yeah, that makes sense.’”He’d seen how “Hello Beautiful” had overtaken Napolitano. Writing “Dear Edward,” she’d said, had been like entering a separate world, happily, then leaving when she felt like it. The Padavano sisters took a different approach: they occupied Napolitano, demanding attention, bringing their saints, their coffee and their chaos.“It was a very intense experience,” Napolitano said. “The story raced out of me. It was like holding onto the fender of a car, being banged across town.”Napolitano started “Hello Beautiful” in April 2020, the loneliest chapter of the pandemic, a time of fear and isolation. It was also the month her father died.“We weren’t able to see him when he was dying and we weren’t able to gather, like so many people,” Napolitano said. “I was trying to find connection and love, and I needed that house with those loud sisters. It really did feel like I needed this book.”Winfrey echoed a version of the same sentiment. “I felt less alone because of books during that period of being isolated,” she said, describing how, “as a girl growing up in Mississippi and Milwaukee, all the times I felt so removed and not valued, it was books — “A Tree Grows in Brooklyn,” in particular — that made me feel that I was connected to the world.”She went on, “And so, in the beginning was the word. The power of the word to help transform our own emotions and our own belief in what’s possible for us? I don’t think anything transcends that.”Audio produced by More
- in Music
Book Review: ‘Y/N,’ by Esther Yi
In Esther Yi’s weird and wondrous ‘Y/N,’ a bored young woman in thrall to a boy band buys a one-way ticket to Seoul.Y/N, by Esther Yi“We’re more popular than Jesus,” John Lennon infamously said of the Beatles. As houses of worship shut down in droves while pop music fandom grows ever more extreme, it seems unfair anew that he got such a drubbing.“We no longer go to church once a week; we attend a stadium concert once a year,” declares Masterson, one of several minor characters given excellent Dickensian names in Esther Yi’s wondrous and strange first novel, “Y/N.” It’s a short book — just over 200 pages — but with big themes, like the precarity of love, and how the modern self is forged less in community than mass consumption.Though he’s oblivious to its implications, Masterson has just discovered evidence that his sort-of girlfriend, an anonymous narrator, has become obsessed with the youngest member of a Korean boy band. The star is called, with an inevitable echo of the Unification Church founder, Moon. His oldest bandmate is Sun, of course, with Jupiter, Mercuryand Venus rounding out the quintet. “There are so many lowercase gods in this secular, cynical era,”Masterson pontificates, waxing on about how philosophy has been supplanted by data, religion has become “a vending machine for manifestation and fulfillment,” and so on. Many of us have dated a Masterson.“Y/N” refers not to yes/no, as Moon will assume, but to the practice in fan fiction of leaving a space for Your/Name, so that readers can Mad Lib themselves into the narrative. But this abbreviation, too, has extra resonance. “He seemed to be asking ‘why’ of my existence,” the narrator thinks when Moon reads aloud the first letter in the elaborate fanfic she’s written for him. “‘Why’ I was what I was.”When another supporting character, who manufactures shoe soles and goes by O (shades of the erotic classic published under the pen name Pauline Réage), asks the narrator what letter she’d like to be, she chooses N, reasoning that “the two prongs of M perfectly captured Moon’s bipedal stability” — he’s an exceptional dancer, with a background in ballet — and she is comparatively “doddering.”Esther Yi, the author of “Y/N.”Sharon ChoiSwirling around in this alphabet soup of identity is the idea that a parasocial relationship might be as fulfilling as, or anyway no less delusional than, traditional monogamy. Reading the narrator’s obsessive Moon ruminations, I remembered more than once the weird intensity of Jerry Maguire’s line “you complete me.” During a livestream, she imagines another fan, a vegan, actually wishing to be “masticated by Moon.”What we learn about this unnamed narrator — let’s call her U.N. — is delightful in its specificity. A Korean American living in Berlin, she works as a copywriter for a canned-artichoke-heart business. “I don’t want my life to change,” she tells the flatmate she met online, who’s proselytizing for the band, “I want my life to stay in one place and be one thing as intensely as possible.” But though leery of fandom, she falls hard and fast after one concert. Not for nothing is fame now near-synonymous with “virality”; to be struck by its power is indeed a kind of sickness.Troubled by the news that Moon is retiring, U.N. consults on Zoom with a therapist in Los Angeles named Dr. Fishwife. “The best way to fall out of love,” he advises her, “is to realize there exists no love out of which to fall.” (“Y/N” is packed like a can of artichoke hearts with such useful epigrams.) Undaunted, she books a one-way ticket to Seoul, where she has an uncle, to track down and confront the object of her obsession, staying in an apartment building whose first floor contains, and this rings all too true, “a coffee shop where one could sit, and a coffee shop where one could not sit.”There’s also a pilgrimage to the Polygon Plaza, HQ of the entertainment company that masterminded the boy band, where a Music Professor, the president, does a bit of waxing herself about how “people were running around in circles and indulging their small adorable freedoms, like wearing this or that outfit or sleeping with this or that person. They confused their navigation through the stunning variety of meaningless choices as an expression of their individuality.” It’s a stinging indictment of what it’s become fashionable to call “late capitalism,” as if anyone had an idea of its endpoint.The main pleasure of “Y/N” is not so much its somewhat skeletal plot, which floats in and out of surreality like an adult “Phantom Tollbooth,” as its corkscrew turns of language (also Tollboothian). I loved how Yi animates objects and reduces humans to collections of cells. The celestial group refers to its fans as “livers” — maybe because it sounds like “lovers,” but more because “we kept them alive,” the narrator notes, “like critical organs.”Shelves of books snake through a dark library “in a disorderly line, not unlike intestines.” Electronic door locks emit “smug beeps.” Cosmetic sheet masks, a 30-day skin regimen packaged with images of the boy band, stay on way longer than they should. “In a month, my dead skin cells will fall away, and I’ll be left with the juicier cells underneath,” U.N. states flatly. “Then I’ll be closer to who I really am.”(This is how Sephora makes billions.)In real life, K-pop fans are a sprawling entity, bigger and more online than Gaga’s Monsters or Beyoncé’s Hive: “armies” that have increasingly made incursions into politics and faced government censure. In its clever compactness, “Y/N” resists the junkiness of the internet where they reside, the fanfics and the livestreams and endless comments.All that writing, that global “content,” is now so ubiquitous, so endless, so cheap — ChatGPT, bonjour — it comes to seem like a toxic cloud, against which a well-formed novel like this counteracts, a blast of cleansing heat.Y/N | By Esther Yi | 224 pp. | Astra House | $26 More
- in Television
6 Books About Mushrooms for Fans of ‘The Last of Us’
If “The Last of Us” has you unnerved by fungi, these six books can offer some new perspective. (Our spore-bearing, mysterious little neighbors aren’t completely evil — promise.)On Sunday, HBO will air the Season 1 finale of the post-apocalyptic drama “The Last of Us,” a video game adaptation that has impressed critics and viewers with its sensitive depiction of people finding reasons to survive in a broken world. And what broke that world? Well, that’s a complicated question. Human nature, for sure. Government overreach, arguably. And, oh yeah … mushrooms.The plague that devastates humanity in “The Last of Us” can be traced back to a genus of ascomycete fungi known as cordyceps, which infects people’s brains, turning them into ferocious monsters. This is just the latest in a long history of mushroom slander in pop culture. From the children’s book “Babar the Elephant” to the movie “Phantom Thread,” all too often artists see mushrooms as not just creepy to look at but downright dangerous.But not always! For some different perspectives on how we can live alongside our spore-bearing, umbrella-shaped little neighbors, check out these books.If “The Last of Us” has you nervous about fungi, these books may help put you at ease.Liane Hentscher/HBOEntangled Life: How Fungi Make Our Worlds, Change Our Minds, and Shape Our Futures, by Merlin SheldrakeAnyone in search of fun facts about fungi should start with this collection of historical anecdotes and scientific inquiry, written by a British biologist who knows a lot about the symbiotic relationships between mushrooms and other living creatures. Sheldrake writes about mushrooms as food, as medicine, as a building material and as an advanced communications network — as works of astonishing organic art, in other words. As our critic Jennifer Szalai wrote, “Reading it left me not just moved but altered, eager to disseminate its message of what fungi can do.”Fantastic Fungi Community Cookbook, by Eugenia BoneA James Beard Award-nominated food and science journalist, Bone has written multiple books about mushrooms, including the lively overview “Mycophilia: Revelations From the Weird World of Mushrooms.” But for those primarily interested in consuming these weird little protuberances, Bone combined her own research with input from foragers, chefs and mycologists to produce a cookbook filled with delicious recipes and enticing photography. (Bone also contributed to a documentary by Louie Schwartzberg called “Fantastic Fungi,” available on Netflix.)The Secret Life of Fungi: Discoveries from a Hidden World, by Aliya WhiteleyBest known as a science-fiction writer, not a scientist, Whiteley brings a fascination with the alien aspects of nature to this more informal survey. She takes a personal approach to the subject, describing a lifelong preoccupation with mushrooms: how they look, how they taste and how they reproduce. With a different framing, the wilder tidbits in the book — including many details about how these organisms can both destroy and create — could be terrifying. Instead, they’re presented as miniature miracles.The Way Through the Woods: On Mushrooms and Mourning, by Long Litt WoonPart memoir, part anthropological study and part celebration of life, this book tells the story of how Long responded to the death of her husband by following through on a plan they made to take a class about mushrooms. Learning more about fungi — and getting to know the habits and the obsessions of other people who are fascinated by them — changed the author’s perspective on perseverance and grief. As our critic Sarah Lyall wrote, “Seeing Long’s capacity for wonder and even contentment in the midst of her sadness feels like seeing tiny shoots of grass peeking from the ash in a landscape stripped bare by fire.”Mexican Gothic, by Silvia Moreno-GarciaToo much positivity in the books above? Try this horror-tinged mystery novel, about a 1950s debutante named Noemí, who travels from Mexico City to an imposing rural mansion to rescue her cousin Catalina from the mysterious Doyle family. Noemí’s snooping about the Doyles turns up some startling revelations, including their reliance on a special strain of mushroom that helps keep them healthy, strong and preternaturally powerful. Even here, though, the fungi are not the bad guys. Their impressive potency is just being misused by the malevolent.Alice’s Adventures in Wonderland: A Pop-up Adaptation, by Lewis Carroll. Illustrated by Robert Sabuda.We can’t leave this topic behind without mentioning one of the most memorable images in all of children’s literature: the hookah-smoking caterpillar coiled atop a mushroom cap, urging the lost and confused Alice to take a bite from his perch to grow either larger or smaller. There have been many editions of Carroll’s proto-psychedelic saga since it was first published in 1865; but this pop-up book, illustrated and engineered by Robert Sabuda, is particularly amazing. Look for the caterpillar’s mushroom hidden under one of the book’s many little flaps — because as always, fungi flourish in the dark, taking root where we least expect them. More
