You know how I've had the recurring experience of reading a few paragraphs into a New Yorker article to think, "goodness, this is terrible writing," and inevitably finding Adam Gopnik to be responsible for the offending prose? Well, the good news is, more often than that when I read the New Yorker, I find myself thinking, "this is exceptional writing." In those cases, as well, I often check the author and think, "of course!" Well, one of the writers who takes my breath away whenever he writes is Aleksandar Hemon, who has once again come through with a beautifully written, poignant, evocative, true-ringing piece.
Israel's cultural guilt trip against American Jews backfires.
A friend and I were just having a related conversation--about people's inexplicable struggles with, not to mention regular butchering of, our relatively simple names. Having that experience one's whole life, you wonder why any parent would deliberately name a child with something that begs for mispronunciation. Some parents--including those who give boys girls' names--doom their kids to added challenges. Doesn't it remind you of that old Saturday Night Live episode... "I have a pizza for Asswipe Johnson"/"That's Oz-Wi-Peh!"
Don't talk to your phone in public.
What is a vegan strip club?
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Over the last year or so, but especially over the last few months, people have pointed out to me with varying levels of tact that I have apparently lost weight. Today, someone said it in the way that you should say it if you're going to say it, so that one's not left wondering how huge one must have been. She said, "Are you... even tinier than you used to be?" It was quite artful.
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