Entertainment Weekly lies somewhere between dead-pan tabloids that understand entertainment as people, the hyper-intelligence of the blogosphere that understands entertainment as text, and the serious critics who look to entertainment to understand American culture-at-large.

But life according to Entertainment Weekly runs on the industry’s own set of rules. For example, the EW year has only two seasons: summer and oscar. The dialogue in EW is directed less at audiences than back at the industry itself. When it comes to TV, the message is not what we can learn from the series, but what we can learn about the network and how the show should improve if it wants to win an Emmy. This week’s interview with Robert Pattinson could easily be a taped session with his career counselor. EW reviews judge movies, books, and CDs, on the criteria of their entertainment value.

We sometimes consume media looking for more, or for something else entirely–pleasure, understanding, knowledge– but in most cases judging by any of these criteria will lead to overpraise or unnecessary outrage. Reading a book you love for personal reasons can lead to pleasure. Listening to your boyfriend’s favorite album can lead to understanding. A period film about life aboard a whaling ship might lead to knowledge. But these experiences are incidental and not expected of media that we know for fact (though we like to will ourselves into a state of suspended disbelief) are expertly calculated to sell, sometimes based on literal algorithms where executives quantify the appeal of actor combinations and plot sequences. The industry that spends and makes billions owes us entertainment, and we deserve to be outraged if it does not deliver that.

On the back-cover of EW, the entertainment world appears as a bullseye with labeled darts representing either hits or a misses. There is only room for one hit a week, and this seems about right, even with today’s frenetic pace of media production. Where New York Magazine sees varying degrees of brilliance or dispicability, EW sees a hit or a miss. The formula is straightforward enough: entertainment breeds entertainment, no more, no less.

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Whom it might impress:

Concerned world citizens, fans of David Grann’s writing, fans of Don Delillo or John Grisham, students of Latin American History.

This week’s short story comes from Ramona Ausubel, who grew up in Santa Fe and is known for her fantasy writing. Her surrealistic themes infuse the story, “Atria,” about a teen pregnancy, and make it surprising, then nerve-racking, and ultimately, very poignant. The story is about Hazel, a precocious but (therefore?) alienated teen who becomes pregnant and the ways her mind makes sense of the experience in its isolation. The element of the surreal which defines Hazel’s point of view through the story underscores the youthful part of her mind, but it also addresses the working of any mind in isolation, when it thinks about the slippery subject of the unplanned.

Whom it might impress:

sensitive souls or those seeking someone sensitive

Ramona Ausubel from slicemagazine on flickr

“Briefly Noted”:

A story about the man they are calling “the Russian Julian Assange,” who is Alexey Navalny, a politically ambitious man investigating corruption in the Russian government, and who is taking complaints online for public scrutiny in his new website called RosePil; a look at the composition of the revolutionaries in Libya and the various groups providing leadership; A profile of Robin Williams and his reaction to recent visits entertain troupes in Baghdad; the future of Tunisia.

Adam Gopnik’s book review, “The Limits of Artificial Intelligence” in which he describes how humans have historically dumbfounded computers when it comes to English grammar and the dynamic dynamics of English communication. The book argues that computers that are most successful at simulating language have algorithms for human uncertainty; The “controversial” new TV show “The Kennedys” that was booted off The History Channel for taking artistic liberties with history gets Nancy Franklin’s endorsement as a fair piece of drama and not, as was the claim of critics, a conservative attempt at character assassination.

bookofmormonbroadway.com

And finally, the New Yorker daringly presents the first non-rave review I’ve read of The Book of Mormon, the new Broadway musical by the creators of South Park and Avenue Q. In a refreshing take, John Lahr questions the guts of the musical for not taking on the finer points of the Mormon religion, but making light fun and lodging stylistic complaints about Mormonism while excusing racist gags in the process.

Whom they might impress:

concerned world citizens; fans of Robin Williams; someone bragging about Watson’s mastery of Jeopardy; history buffs watching “The Kennedys” for inaccuracies; someone bragging that he scored tickets to The Book of Mormon

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The Japan coverage from The New Yorker is particularly insightful and touching. Even if you’re seeing video footage in your sleep, Evan Osnos’ vivid descriptions of the wreckage present it anew, and his textual illustration might moved you more and impress you less than video will. Descriptions of bitter cold in some of Japan’s worst hit places were news to me. His story ends with insight from inside a popular alternative radio station where a youthful, sleepless staff illustrates some of the difficulty in working in media in Japan, a notoriously tight-lipped culture that is forever afraid of disrupting the remarkable calm and readiness its people have learned.

In another article, Kenzaburo Oe draws connections between four nuclear tragedies, which have acted as bench-marks in Japanese history. If Japanese history is reconsidered through the eyes of the victims of nuclear power, its threat, psychological as much as physical, cannot be overstated. The human side of a disaster-prone history adds insult to injury.

Haruki Murakami’s story “UFO in Kushiro” was originally published in 2001 and makes reference to the 1995 Kobe earthquake that inspired it. The story tracks familiar ground, involving a detached-but-successful man attempting sex with a stranger in a motel, or “love hotel,” as this translation has it. Still, it is a fitting pick for the issue for the way it deals with the causes and effects of tragedies, from earthquake to divorce. Through a series of events centered around the image of a mysterious package, Murakami shows internal and external worlds that run parallel, and occasionally, unexpectedly, meet. Signature Murakami moody imagery makes it worth the read.

I also learned a lot from the style side of things. Of particular interest to me were the following:

From Lauren Collins:

I learned that Christian Louboutin is an avid horticulturist and the son of a pampering mother and absentee dad. He was raised in a working class part of Paris but moved into the home of an older friend at age 12.

lunasmith1 on flickr

In his twenties he was part of Paris’ partying it-crowd that called Le Palace, a legendary club in Paris’ Bastille neighborhood, which he calls “the center of the universe.” In those days, he was known for his flamboyant style and once lept out of a moving convertable into a German forest to prove a point in the middle of an argument with his good friend that started over “which of Ludwig’s castles was prettier.”

From Alexandra Jacobs:

I learned that the founder of Spanx is a blond, size six millionaire named Sara Blakley who comes off as a sharp businesswomen, if ill-fitting for the particular world of fashion to which the magazine’s “style focus” refers. In fact, the author seems to look down slightly on her subject for such offenses as over-using alliteration in her merchandise and not recognizing the designer Lazaro Hernandez in person.

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The London press refers to Justin Timberlake as “trouser snake.”

Justin Timberlake broke up with Jessica Biel. US quotes a restaurant diner seated next to Justin Timberlake and Jessica Biel who was ,“not being able to concentrate on her meal ‘because Justin and Jessica were fighting the entire time.’” Not because she was seated next to them in the first place. Very impressive, source.

The famously sporty couple broke up at a hotel in Silverton Colorado where they checked in as Jessica Biel’s character from Seventh Heaven.

This season’s Bachelor couple has also split, thanks, in part, to the woman finally seeing footage of her fiance dating her former competitors when the show finally aired.

Reese Witherspoon is getting married on her ranch in Ojai, California, where she keeps horses, donkeys, pigs, goats, and chickens–who knew? My friend said, “A Reese Witherspoon marriage is like an Anne Hathaway makeover montage.”

A hilarious spread of images definitely proves that many members of celebrity couples are actually morphing into one another. Think about it, the spread seems to say: Brad and Angelina both have swept-back hair; Prince William and Kate Middleton both wave their right hands; Gwen Stefani and Gavin Rosedale both covered their mouths with their hands after an apparently surprising point during last September at the US Open; and Jay Z and Beyonce both “bared arms” (wore t-shirts) at last year’s french open. What is going on here?

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Q: What’s happening to New York’s bike lanes?

A: The cover of New York Magazine promises the story of a new “culture war.” Inside, some members of a newly crowded older generation in Park Slope, Brooklyn find bike lanes dangerous and claim that promising statistics about usage and safety, which make New York look like Portland itself, have been intentionally exaggerated in favor of bike enthusiasts. But, between Bloomberg and the entire creative class’ enthusiasm for bikes, the minority doesn’t stand a fighting chance, even equipped with a probono lawsuit from George W. Bush’s lawyer of the contested 2000 election.

In time, the author admits his own passion for the unparalleled feeling of freedom that is cycling in New York. He attends a community hearing whose first two speakers are two adorable children who say even they want bike lanes, inviting questions like, are New York’s youth being big bullies? And, does a squeaky bike chain of resistance constitute a “war?”

Q: Aren’t Kate and Wills so much duller than Diana and Charles were?

A: “The Real Housewives of Kensington Palace” compares Princess Di and the future princess Kate. Princess Di, through scandal upon compelling scandal until her scandalized death, created an unprecedented media maelstrom from the moment of her engagement and made the social lives of the British royal family a genuine economy. By contrast, Kate and Wills seem painfully ordinary. Wills did not attend Oxford and is marrying, without concern for social class, Kate, a preppy girl, composed like Helen Mirren’s queen. The author supposes that analysts predicting super-bowl-sized spendings during their televised April wedding are overestimating public interest in this dull couple and, I quote, “that thinning royal pate.” Ouch.

But by the time the author states his point, he has already undercut it, having first painted a thoroughly fascinating picture of these supposedly normal, Americanized Brits. Sure, hanging out at hot Chelsea clubs and using witty nicknames might resemble a certain familiar American type. But to need to draw a social line between those with short Anglo-Saxon names and compound ones? Or to use conversationally the terms “wags,” (women who love footballers), and “willabees,” (women who love William and his posse, who are, in turn, “The Throne Rangers?”)–priceless! Just because Kate and Wills dated in college doesn’t make them like any other couple. In fact, a certain amount of Americanization has only made the British parts more interesting for still existing at all. In the post-Real World world, we hunger for royal cool more than we do a royal scandal, and nothing will sell me more magazines than articles, like this one, that document extraordinary ordinariness.

Q: What do you think of Michelle Rhee’s education reform tactics?

A: Another deft article profiles education reformer Michelle Rhee who gained fame for her high-performing class on national TV and founded StudentsFirst, a highly patronized nonprofit opposed to teachers’ unions and firing by the dozen those Rhee deems bad teachers. The article paints Rhee as an demagogue, who is launching a rhetoric-heavy crusade (remember the children!) that bears resemblance to both the 2008 Obama campaign and the Tea Party, implying a closer connection to the latter. Thearticle plays it safe when it comes to picking sides (Rhee has liberal and conservative support, and Waiting For Superman was a really good movie). But, it questions the efficacy of mass firings, and whether using the “ch” word is ever fair–even in war (on education policy)–because it automatically makes dissenters Child Haters. As for objections about how to identify a “bad teacher,” as a recent student, I remember this much: you know one when you see one. But I also remember that administators were rarely as perceptive.

Q: Have you heard about that new restaurant called, What Happens When?

A: Yes, you have. It’s being called a “temporary restaurant installation” and, this month, all the menu items are named after characters from A Mid Summer’s Night’s Dream, complete with psychedelic forest decor.Throughout the review, Adam Platt includes remarks from his “skeptical uptown guests,” who, despite having presumably fulfilled lifetime goals by befriending a food critic, insist on complaining. One of them, who said, “I can’t believe they’re serving food in this chicken coop!” should be thankful Adam didn’t invite him last month when the restaurant was Hamlet-themed: I can’t believe they’re serving meat in this graveyard!

from wikimedia commons

Q: Have you heard the new Strokes album?

A: You heard that Nitsuh Abebe thinks it is “messy but chock full of ideas.” The band was forced to record most of the record without Julian Casablancas, with whom, the article implies, the band would have fought too much, and oppressed by Casablancas’ aggressive style. You don’t come off looking so impossibly cool and laid-back without repressing an uptight side.

from AndraMB on flickr Q: Wanna go on a "bruise cruise" for spring break?

Q: Wanna go on a “bruise cruise” with me for Spring Break?

A: The new concept from Carnival Cruise Lines is a boat load of indie rockers, hired to entertain music fans alongside more typical cruisers. The bands are taking advantage of the scenery to shoot music videos on location and otherwise behave like rockstars on vacation. Every band the cruise director asked to participate accepted the offer. It may not do much for the environment, but every interviewee said the fun had exceeded their high expectations.

Q: And, finally, have you seen Tracy Letts in Steppenwolf’s new production of Who’s Afraid of Virginia Woolf in D.C.? It’s supposed to be particularly highbrow and brilliant.

A: No. I haven’t got around to it.

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devouring a Portland monthly

In a sketch from IFC’s Portlandia, two friends meeting for coffee try to outdo each other’s hunger for publications. They’ve read everything from The New Yorker, to The Seattle Stranger , to last night’s fortune cookies, to the phone book they eventual race to devour, only to be run over by a car because they neglect to read the stop sign.

If this sketch made you chuckle, you might have also found yourself in a situation like this: you were stuck at a news stand debating whether to shell out seven dollars for The New Yorker, which you finally did. A catalogue of thoughtful experience is a bargain at any price. You carried it around all week, planning to devote a week of concentrated subway reading to its contents, and after losing a page off the most promising story to the bottom of your bag, never got around to anything but the cartoons. At a doctor’s office you made it through some of Harper’s, which, since you did it without a dictionary, should count for double, but it doesn’t since no one else at the party seems to have tried. Come Monday, a new fan of magazines confronting you at the news stand looks ominously like an addictive cycle. You might find yourself wondering unpretentiously whether those printed insights were worth the paper if they don’t result in a conversation.

With all the video in the world who still has time to read all that text every single week? This week, I did. Here is what I read.

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Contrary to expectation, this issue is distinguished as much by what it conceals as by what it reveals. The photo spread muses on empty porn sets, like a nurse’s station where a lone, white dildo is all that remains of the day’s activities.

The essays and stories in the issue also seem to draw power from absence, whether it is the absence of desire, as in Jennifer Egan’s story “The Gold Cure” or the inability to write about desire, as with Mark Doty’s “The Unwriteable.” Egan’s story centers around a hairy businessman who hasn’t had an erection in so long he’s’ beginning to think he never will. The only thing that seems to get him back inside his body is sniffing gold dust.

Last week I heard Jennifer Egan and Mark Doty read from their pieces in Granta’s Sex issue at the Half King, which on Monday nights hosts an excellent reading series. In his introduction to “The Unwriteable,” Doty explained that although he’s written explicitly about his life there was one story he was never able to approach. But when Granta asked him to write about a little-talked about phenomenon–of married men who have affairs with other men, he decided he couldn’t write about other men without writing about his own experience. “The Unwriteable” is an essay about Doty’s own early marriage to a woman and love affair with a man, an experience he says he couldn’t write about until the parties concerned had died. As with Doty’s poetry, the language here is breathtaking, and he alternates between confession and an exploration of why in this case sex was so difficult to write about.

Also of note: Granta.com has published a ton of complementary stories and interviews online. They even created an entire website to accompany the sex issue.

Online you can hear Victor LaValle read his short story “Long Distance” and watch a video of Editor John Freeman introducing the issue.

Check out Ted Hodgkinson’s A Plausible Portrait, an introduction to the life of James Lord, “a writer who befriended Picasso – and Picasso’s mistress – and inspired Giacometti,” and, an online exclusive, an interview with Natasha Wimmer on translating Roberto Bolano’s sex scenes (the print issue also features a Bolano short story).

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Some of us may have been a little too preoccupied by Sesame Street to pay as close attention as Karr did, but if your emotional and physical survival is at stake you’re likely to become hyperaware.

Amanda Fortini, who conducted the interview, writes in her introduction that it took years from when Karr agreed to be interviewed to actually get her to talk. It seemed surprising at first that someone who has revealed so much of herself on the page might be reticent about answering questions about “The Art of Memoir” but I’d wager that the very thing that draws me to Karr’s writing–being so hard on herself–might be the same thing that makes her leery of talking “craft.”

I also want to note that this is “The Art of Memoir No1″ the very first in a Paris Review tradition of Art of Fiction and of Poetry interviews. If Karr really is No1 in this rhizomatic genre we can only hope that the Paris Review’s Editor-To-Be, Lorin Stein, will continue interviewing memoirists who are just as tough-minded (and ideally with similarly filthy mouths).

Also of note:

Benjamin Percy’s essay Me Vs. Animals. I’m writing this from Bolinas, CA, also known as Pollan-land, and there are signs up on cedar fences along the road: “Manage, Don’t Exterminate the Axis Deer.” What this means is that the town has started giving birth control to the deer, who overpopulate and then starve or cause traffic accidents, rather than allowing ranchers nearby to hunt them. Reading Percy’s essay, I was thrilled to see another side of what I consider to be an overly-mamby-pamby (Bambi?) genre of wilderness writing transformed into a hilarious piece about the terrors of the natural world that to me is far more respectful of nature than dosing deer with hormones.

Massimo Vitali’s stunning panoramic photographs of beach-culture (see the photo attached to this post, form the cover of The Paris Review). The photographs capture the texture of beachgoers as a crowd of pointilist heads and vivid bathing suits. As such you almost hear his photos rather than see them: a timpani of musical notes against a softly whooshing wall of sound.

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Following a recommendation by the Daily Beast’s Tina Brown on NPR last week, I picked up a copy of this month’s Atlantic Monthly to read Michael Kinsley’s piece “This Article is Too Long!” Kinsley’s task is to convince us that print journalism should follow the lead of online journalism in making their articles sharper, shorter and to the point–all without making his article too long, or indulging in overcomplicated run-on sentences like this one. As the title states, Kinsley fails to make his point within his own space requirements, but then he is writing for print and he has the burden of quoting several bloated NYT passages as evidence. But this article is more than a measuring-stick: Kinsley gets at a fundamental shift in print journalism that has occurred in the past decade–from criticism to heavy-handed even-handedness. He cites a Times reporter whose story, though it reveals it’s angle in the headline, is bogged down by quotes from “experts” who we’ve never heard of and extra verbiage dedicated to establishing their expertise. Instead of trusting the view of the journalist, because she has her editor to answer to, and the Times, because ideally they have their readers to answer to, we’re supposed to trust Joe Blow. The implication here is that these doomed attempts at absolute even-handedness do nothing but compare/contrast, and that the critical evaluation of events (the reason many of us read the news in the first place) is lost or denatured. Kinsley’s article should be a conversation piece, not just about online vs. print journalism but about the role of the critical eye in journalism itself.

Other articles of note from The Atlantic:

“What Makes a Great Teacher” by Amanda Ripley

Teach for America is about to release a decade’s worth of research on what makes an effective teacher. And it’s not what you’s think. The article is short on actual prescription but it promises a new system of evaluation in which teachers would judged based on the performance of their students–but wait, isn’t that the old system?

“Divine Proportions” by Wayne Curtis

It’s not the size of the cocktail but the spirit that counts. Curtis makes a case for the return of the small cocktail which “should be like tapas, intense hits of well-balanced flavors in small proportions that leave one wanting more.” He name-checks the Pegu Club, where I recently had the best cocktail I’ve ever tasted, The French Kiss, with muddled mint, lime, gin and anise, that is as amazing to smell as it is to sip. Sadly the new NY City law banning raw egg in drinks (though the city seems to be fine with lukewarm mayo) has meant the death of Pegu’s Earl Grey Martini, of which I’ve heard but sadly never tasted.

“The Catastrophist: The Haunting Science Fiction of J.G. Ballard” by Christopher Hitchens

…and don’t miss a standoff in the Letters section, between author Michael Scammell and Hitchens, who recently reviewed Scammell’s biography of Arthur Koestler.

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