Four Books That Deserved More Attention in | The New YorkerBy Saira Khan. The Ravens won. And yet the story of that summer is not a sad one. It ended with me crashing with my friends for a few months of dancing and drinking, and then moving to New York City for graduate school. Over the next day, Jenny tries to bury her pain by running all over New York City with her friends, trying to get tickets to the Neon Classic, a music festival, and doing some marijuana and molly along the way. But the film is not, in fact, a rom-com. Nor is it a breakup film.
The Most-Read Fiction of 2017
It sometimes felt like there was little time for Books I Loved this year, what with staying on top of the all-consuming Twitter Feed I Hated. Instead, these books brought me face to face with more elemental concerns: birth and bereavement. The retrospective narrative—who is this woman, and why is she there, alone? For those of us who have been there, Erens skillfully evokes that wild, supra-political condition. And she reminds all readers, those who have experienced labor or not, of the dangerous trespass along the margin of life which every childbirth entails.
By Carrie Battan. Open, the grand finale of the major tennis tournaments, has had no shortage of storybook moments. Rather than repent, he flipped the crowd a middle finger and channelled the frisson toward a win. By the next round, media coverage of the incident had turned him into a modern tennis folk hero—someone capable of infusing a stiff and mannered sport with irreverence and uncensored passion. He was the human-interest champion. During its press run, Agassi foregrounded his relationship with his ghostwriter, J. Agassi even confesses to using crystal meth and then lying about it after failing a drug test.
Every few months, and even more often during the summer, my mind crowds and I lose my ability to concentrate. It lasts three days, or a week, or, catastrophically, two; my reading stalls out and so, soon after, do my sentences. That familiar one-thing-after-the-other rhythm comforts me somehow. I liked that the book was essentially about writers. Sure, Zinoman had to draw a detailed sketch of Letterman himself—mostly his steadily accumulating deposit of strange anxieties—but he writes best about Merrill Markoe, the undersung comic genius who shepherded those early shows, creating classic bits like Stupid Pet Tricks along the way. Markoe—whose role in the creation of the Letterman legend has probably suffered, Zinoman notes, because she once dated Letterman—also helped to hire the next generation of Letterman writers, some more obviously talented or sane than others.
Like the best coming-of-age novels, it captures the beautiful If there were a way to invite the protagonists of fiction to a lunch in their.
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The Twenty-Five Most-Read New Yorker Stories of 2017
By James Wood. One of the best novels published this year was also one of the most scandalously neglected, at least in this country. When Erpenbeck wins the Nobel Prize in a few years, I suspect that this novel will be cited. Erpenbeck, who grounds her fiction in careful research and documentary she interviewed thirteen recent immigrants from various African countries, whom she thanks , structures her novel around European ignorance and curiosity: her German protagonist, a privileged, retired professor of classics named Richard, decides to discover as much as he can about the lives of some African refugees whom he notices, one day, at a protest in the center of Berlin. And when he decides to correct that ignorance, his quest of discovery becomes ours, too. The novel is an effort of inquiry, not a political statement or a liberal appropriation. Despite the fact that it was long-listed for the Man Booker Prize, this book, too, went almost unnoticed in the United States.