Inquiries in Intermediate Nonfiction

Nate Silver, yo.

KELLEY KING

FLIGHT OF THE DRAGON FLIES

NEW YORKER DECEMBER 3RD

12-6-12

This was a cool article, I guess. I mean I don’t really care about dragonfly migrations. However, I thought the author did an alright job maintaining some sense of interest by some of the descriptive language he uses. Usually I’m not too thrilled with descriptions and they sound forced and grandiose and silly, but I liked these. Probably because of the subject matter - like those nature documentaries? It’s all about the visual and the descriptions. And to be honest they sound kind of silly and they use a lot of personification and stuff like that, but I don’t really mind it because I think it’s funny and interesting, and more NECESSARY than a piece where you’re profiling some famous guy and describing the tan freckles on his boyish young soft cheek smiles and the mustache that stretches like licorice around his upper lip - like who cares. Not me. An example, they describe a certain kind of dragonfly:

“which is about three inches long and has a wingspan of around four inches. It has a green thorax, a long abdomen of cerulean blue with a black stripe, clear wings, and bulging eyes the color of a Spanish olive”

I particular like the part about the eyes being the color of a Spanish olive. It brings us into the non-bug world we usually live in. I also liked the “cerulean” blue. I actually don’t know what cerulean means. But it makes me think of glazed pottery. Either way it sounds pretty. And now I’ll probably look it up! That’s good, right, when articles make you look something up and you actually will because you’re interested enough to instead of not knowing what it means and saying “this is boring and stupid and I’m not reading another word of this high falutent pish posh!”

Also interesting stuff about the term “hawking” (I like hawks and the way the word sounds) and the part about how they can take down hummingbirds??? Like that’s crazy!!!! And sad, dragonflies are pretty but hummingbirds are like gods.

I’m considering ordering some of this famous bread.  Joking, but just barely. After I read “Bread Winner” by Lauren Collins, I found myself not enjoying any of the bread I happened to eat for the next few days.  The article, which focuses on Apollonia Poilâne and the Poilâne bakeries, was masterfully written in the sense that I felt as though I was truly seeing an inside perspective of Apollonia’s reign over this traditional company.  Collins allowed Apollonia’s voice and personality, rather blunt and critical, to be the shining moment of this piece. I felt like the scene where Apollonia is describing her portrait, of pain and pain, captured her persona exactly as she would have wanted it: sharp, realistic, and devoted.

Not only am I impressed by Apollonia and her backstory, (let’s be real, most of us could not be running a business at this moment in college…) but the article also kept my attention focused and I was entertained and rather impressed with the quality of an article that is entirely focused on bread.   I have generally avoided reading things on food in the past, as I was nervous I might find out something gross about that great food I love that would ruin it entirely, so this entire New Yorker edition made me nervous.  But being a food lover, I was pleasantly surprised with how much I enjoyed the entire edition. 

The timing of this New Yorker is nonetheless making me ready for Christmas so I can have all those delectable meals once again, now especially the homemade breads.  But in the mean time, it looks like I stuck with generic bread from Pitt’s very own Sodexu in Market.  Maybe I will order a miche after all…

This one’s late and it’s for the October 29th/November 5th issue. It’s for the article “Washington Man”, which we kind of hotly debated in class. Giving it a second glance after about a month, the thing that sticks out kind of immediately is just how unbelievably long it is. This definitely stems from the story the author is telling, and the large scope of the subject’s life that is being examined here. It’s too much though. In class we talked about how little focus there was throughout the entire article and I agree with us again on the second time through. Brevity is important, especially when you’re trying to overcome long instances of time. In profiles it’s even trickier because those things that you may be glossing over, whatever details don’t get included, could be the most important part of your subject’s character.

                I’m still having a hard time dealing with profiles as a major source of page space for the New Yorker every week. Occasionally they are interesting or specifically compelling because of recent events, but more often for me, they are boring and leave me looking for some greater reason for reading the article. They’re constantly stuck between giving too much information, as this one evidently does, and still missing some kind of focal point. One great example of both of these things was in the subject’s relationship to Joe Biden in this piece. It was obviously important to him, his inspiration to go into politics to a certain extent, but it still felt unresolved and less than completely informed at the end. Maybe that was the point, but it brings up the problem with writing about people who have stories that are ongoing; there’s no way to make it legitimately centered. I think that’s why I like the pure question answer format; it doesn’t need to be resolved. However, I also understand the merit of these pieces as a window into someone else’s (probably someone much more interesting than anyone I know) life. I’m bitter. This is the last time I’m going to write about profiles.

I think I missed a post attending a funeral or something so here it goes.

The article "Bread Winner" in the December 3 issue of The New Yorker might very well be about my favorite personality in anything we've read this semester. Apollonia Poilane is the most forward, brutally honest person we have encountered and I love every second of it. In referring to the French habit of eating foie gras with gingerbread she responds "fucking disgusting", she criticizes the idea of people making breads with ingredients she deems as non-conventional or "useless". I loved every moment of her, except for the one about not being willing to drive above the speed limit, which upon reflection is pretty weak. I learned a lot from this article, this issue of The New Yorker covering food is an interesting contrast because usually the articles talk about some topic relevant to news coverage. What I mean is, the nuances of the food industry go right over my head on a daily basis so this was a nice break, compared to the drug-dealing-k-pop-justin-bieber-managing-super-aids-having-paul-ryan-hating-football-watching-pirates or whatever the other magazines are about.

Above all this article made me hungry. I padded into my kitchen and scoffed at the idea of eating my leftover Moranti's loaf bread or my lasts forever Wonder Bread. These breads are below me now, after reading this article I am a connoisseur, I might even be French. All in all the article was quite illuminating, and not too long, as I feared it may be. Bread is interesting, more interesting when it is being used as a symbol for money, but not that interesting. I'd probably marry Apollonia though, she seems kinda mean.

The article "Toques from Underground" in the December third issue of the The New Yorker confounded me, as I had never heard of people practicing as "underground chefs" and hosting these secret food clubs. The article was well-written, it did an excellent job of providing the feel of the atmosphere of Craig Thorton's den. The methodology behind this is perplexing, the secretive outlets to find information about even more secretive dinners. The rag-tag group of semi-professionals who put together these masterpieces are as interesting as the dishes themselves. An out of work heavy metal guitarist, an artist, a former skateboarder, all reflect the varied backgrounds needed to do what Wolvesmouth does. Craig seems to get all the glory, but I was almost more curious about his associates than I was about him, who comes across as the ultimate food-hipster.

Thorton's back-story however is thrilling (if thrilling was the understatement of the century), and his passion for food comes from a lack-thereof growing up. His stints working for celebrities are interesting asides, but I wasn't a fan of the "history of cooking" excerpts. As soon as a paragraph begins with '100 years ago' I'm over it (I don't even like listening to music from before the turn of the century). This piece does a good job of framing Thorton's life as culinary experimentation, and that a lot of the subtlety is lost when something like Wolvesmouth goes mainstream. For once I really don't have anything to lambast with criticism.

  Mildly Disappointed,

I enjoyed reading Dana Goodyear’s piece about the underground restaurant scene, because it was informative, interesting, easy to follow, and at times even a little suspenseful. I was surprised; I would have thought that hard to do in a piece about food. But Goodyear has combined a story about the underground restaurant scene, with a profile about an eccentric character at the forefront, and even included a descriptive review of Wolvesmouth offerings along the way. 

Its an interesting approach. Though this piece is subtitled the rise of the secret restaurant , I found it to be more about Craig Thornton, and Wolvesmouth than anything else. As I said, this didn’t bother me, in fact, I thought it was far more effective than delving into with a history of underground supper clubs, without giving the reader any what for. Thornton got me interested. I found his character fascinating, and having been largely unaware that places like this exist, I found the concept of Wolvesmouth fascinating, and it was nice to get an inside look, a description, a sense of the small dining room, overcrowded with celebrity and non-celebrity guests. And though we do get a lot of backstory on Thornton throughout the piece, It didn’t mind because he was close to the subject, and provided an in to the larger theme of the piece -- underground restaurants. 

All said, I thought this was a smartly constructed piece. It balanced scene with background, and did a good job holding my attention, and didn’t lose me jumping around.

I found the Slow Motion Torture piece by Jeff Tietz in Rolling Stone to be particularly sobering. I looked through the posts already to get an idea of what people were saying about this piece, and I saw Laufton's post about it. What I'm trying to figure out is whether Laufton meant that it was not the writer's responsibility to write the piece whatsoever because he lacked the agency and scope, or if he thought the piece was in-genuine for those reasons.

For some reason, and I could be wrong, but it seemed like Laufton meant the latter-- that the writer simply cannot help Nelson in the story and honestly didn't really seem like he wants to. I only say this because the end of Laufton's post has the personal ad for somebody who had been in solitary confinement, commenting on it saying, "apparently this guy just went on some blog to look for a subject" (or something to that affect). 

I really disagree, though. I mean, look at the sheer volume of research and interaction went into this piece. There an obvious edge to this argument: solitary confinement is an awful thing. So, if you're saying that Tietz doesn't do his job as a writer to tell somebody's story, I really disagree. And I don't think the point of this is to say that the featured prisoner, Nelson, needs help right now. He is the character who gives the story for the world to see-- Nelson gives Tietz the opportunity to help the ones still in solitary confinement. And maybe that's a naive thing to say, but the public has to start somehow: by forming an opinion. That's exactly what this piece does. I do believe that there will certainly be people who read this and think, well those criminals shouldn't have killed somebody, or maybe they shouldn't be involved in gangs while in prison. But there's probably a majority of readers who will see this as an inhumane way to treat people and agree with the Charles Dickens quote, "I hold this slow and daily tampering with the mysteries of the brain immeasurable worse than any torturing of the body." 

Tietz did a lot of really good things to put the reader into the mindset of a solitary confinement inmate, regardless of agency OR scope. He writes an entire section using "you". "Although the perforations in your cell door admit sound and light, they're too small to see through unless you're up against them." "Three times a day, meals are brought to your cell door, into which a sliding steel drawer is welded." There's just so many moments in this piece that you think "wow"-- and it's not always the mental effects of solitary confinement. Prison lifestyle itself is a whole world that I pray I'll never have to be introduced to. But this piece told somebody's story. I don't think it was "fake" just because Tietz posted online looking for a source to frame his story around. I mean, that seems like a pretty logical way to try to find one with all of the technology in the world. Besides, I'd be willing to be a hundred dollars that was one of MANY methods he was using to find someone like Nelson. 

Anyways....

So, Chris Tucker's back. This is great news if you, like me, have seen Rush Hour's 1 and 2 dozens of times apiece (really, I bet I've seen Rush Hour 2 close to 100 times; definitely in the 90's). Everyone knows the Rush Hour movies, but he also made Friday and had a role in Jackie Brown, so he's not a one-trick pony. But his name is synonymous with Rush Hour and always will be. My real question about Tucker is only briefly touched on in the article, however: what the fuck has he been doing for the last 15 years? This is his fourth movie since 1998. Has he been hanging in his mansion enjoying the reported $45 million he made from the last two Rush Hour's? Has he been pulling a Jules and decided to "walk the earth"? I wouldn't be surprised if he had become a shoemaker like Daniel Day-Lewis, also known for his long hiatus'. But the point is, why doesn't this article explore that? That's much more interesting than reading about the director's thoughts on the effect Tucker's absence will have on the reaction to Silver Linings Playbook. I can't be sure, but I feel like Chris Tucker fans and Bradley Cooper fans don't intersect as much as the editors at Rolling Stone must have thought. I think they could have accomplished at least a little bit in this short piece if they have focused on that aspect instead of just plugging this new movie. But hey, the main idea of the piece is still important: Chris Tucker is making movies again, and that can only be a good thing.

I really really enjoyed Dana Goodyear's article "Toques from Underground" in this week's edition of the New Yorker. Although I particularly enjoyed Craig Thorton's story, I liked the article as a whole and found the idea of underground restaurants aboveground really interesting. 

Thorton's story intrigued me. His retelling of social services finding him mother naked on the couch while he watched Dennis the Menace was incredibly sad, and the fact that he ran four miles to work on the side of the highway displayed his intense ambition. I am so glad Goodyear included a lot of background information on Thorton; even though it was not completely necessary for the topic, I think it added so much to the article overall. He served as a great, sympathetic frame. 

I was also very happy that Goodyear included an underground restaurant that she did not particularly like: pHeast. Her description of the dinner left nothing to the imagination, and I could feel myself getting hungry right along with her as she was served food that does not deserve that title. I particularly liked the line, "I saw a gourmet truck on the way home, and stopped for a hot dog." Just because underground restaurants and molecular gastronomy are edgy and cool does not mean that every single one of them is delicious and worth the money. Goodyear makes this very clear. 

I think I liked this piece so much because it taught me a lot of things without feeling like I was being taught. That seems to be the common theme through all of the articles I enjoyed this semester. If I did not learn anything, I came away from the article feeling like I had wasted my time. I'm going to try to consciously consider this in the future as I write my own pieces. I think it's the most important part of being a good writer.

After reading the New Yorker and Rolling Stone for three months I think I know why I like and don’t like reading them. I have a massive stack of them lined up next to my couch at home and when I feel like not being a piece of shit who’s going to watch Netflix reruns, I’ll pick them up and keep perusing for things I might have missed. But getting a new issue of Harper’s is different. I know it’s only monthly, so it automatically has a leg up on the other two in terms of specialness, but I still get legitimately excited to see a new issue in the mail. I don’t know if there’s exactly one reason for this, or if it’s just a conglomeration of things, but I think the cover article in the most recent issue is a fairly good sample of the stuff Harper’s gives you that maybe the other two won’t.

                First off, it had a scene that was kind of unabashedly personal to the author. It had relevance to the story, but was not necessarily completely about it. In the New Yorker in a similar piece, and I fo sho could be wrong in this, but I think they would have opened onto something slightly more involved with the facts, whether it was with the expert, or a larger picture of the universe or something. In Rolling Stone I’m not sure this piece could exist at all, it seems too little grounded in a specific time frame. Next we got a fairly significant history of human’s relationship with the cosmos, another aspect of Harper’s that seems consistent and always subtly great. In most of the articles I’ve read in Harper’s that could have had a tie in with some sort of historical POV, they included it. However, unlike the New Yorker, which also does this sometimes, they balance that with very hard contemporary sources. Occasionally in the New Yorker they will do something like this, but it seems like those stories are more about the general trend of the historical subject, leaving the reader to make extrapolations, even if they are easy to see, about how it’s going now.

                Harper’s doesn’t seem to expect the reader to do a lot of work when they’re reading the articles, which is nice. I’m not saying that they don’t grapple with the same level of significance as do the New Yorker and occasionally Rolling Stone, but it does seem like they give their author’s more leeway to actually convey a point. It’s a solid magazine and probably the only one whose subscription I will renew after next week.

What a great, tasteful edition of The New Yorker (December 3, 2012)

The first big piece, "Toques from Underground" made me incredibly jealous that I'm not invited to these dinner parties, super hungry, and a little upset that I was so unaware of these underground restaurants. The piece was awesome because it really brought to light something many of us are probably unaware of and will probably (but who knows) never attend because we are not exclusive nor rich enough to eat this way.

I liked how the piece was framed by chef Thornton. He seemed to be the perfect person to shape the piece of underground restaurant and unique cooking that comes from it because he's quite underground himself. Not indulgent, nor overly boastful of himself; he is also shown to be incredibly creative and willing to try a lot of things that other chefs have not. Also having had quite a rough childhood, but persevered in life regardless.

I think it played an important role that the author actually attended a dinner at the Wolvesden; because although the accounts he receives and the quotes and history he adds into the story are sufficient, having that first hand, personal taste account really is effectual for the reader. Writing about food, like writing about music or movies, needs to be personalized because you have to try to describe it in a way that will make the reader believe and taste what you are tasting, and Goodyear does a great job at that.

I loved how she incorporated the descriptions of a plethora of Thornton's dishes, as opposed to just a few, again to add to his character. She really does a good job characterizing him; I have a good idea of what he's like and how he cooks and how he LIKES to cook.

I haven't really read much food writing nor food reviews, but being a lover of food, I've always been interested to tackle the writing food fight. However, I think, as Goodyear shows, that a believable and good piece about food is about more than just the food and about the chef; it needs to take into account many things: culture, identity, styles of cooking, the tastes, preparation, preferences of the cooks and the chefs. Goodyear integrates all of this into her piece which makes it enjoyable to read.

Allison Giannotti

Week 15 Post

            In the December 3rd issue of The New Yorker Dana Goodyear profiles Craig Thornton and explores the nature and profitability of underground restaurants. I enjoyed the tone Goodyear created; it was one of secret reveal—I felt I was let in on this secret world of underground restaurants. Sometimes when I read The New Yorker I feel that some articles are condescending, but this article placed the reader on the same level as the author and invited the reader along for the journey. In addition, this article was effective at maintaining reader interest and engagement. Previous profiles that I’ve read throughout the semester drag on and on with unnecessary detail, but in this piece each description adds a new element to the story and works to create an all-encompassing portrait of Craig Thornton and his business.

            In order for a profile to be effective I believe the writer needs to chose a person who is not only unique, but has something interesting/controversial to say about what he or she does. I’ve read many profiles that describe “average Joe” or “the girl next door” and it’s hard to care about these people and what they do because they appear artificially similar to the millions of other people in America. Goodyear executed a successful profile; Thornton is this badass cook who is redefining fine cuisine. It was ironic the way Goodyear compared Thornton to other chefs; she portrayed superbly educated chefs as struggling for work and then you have Thornton, not excellently educated, but experience wild success and demand.  

So I figured I'd do it now! Remember that Rick Ross piece? We talked about it in class already, but I thought I'd pick that once since it's pretty much my favorite article we read this semester. It was in the August 30th edition of Rolling Stone, and was written by Terry Richardson.

My favorite part of this article sums up the entire thing: "In addition to the ocean-depleting quantity of seafood, Ross also orders a wedge of iceberg lettuce. His doctor told him recently that he should be eating better, so lately he's been trying to have a salad with every meal. Not that he's cutting down on any of the other stuff. He's just eating salads, too." This quote sums up not only Rick Ross the person, but also the feel of the article in general. The whole thing is just ridiculous and hilarious.

Rereading this article to write this post reminded me of the first time I read it, when I couldn't believe that a magazine was writing about a celebrity smoking weed. Oh how naive. Although the number of times Richardson says blunt still catches me off guard. 

Comparing this piece to Richardson's piece about Tom Hanks is kind of weird, because I thought that this piece was so interesting and hilarious, and really got into Rick Ross as a person (or at least as far as anyone could have), while the Tom Hanks piece was just boring old news. Maybe it's because Tom Hanks has been around for so much longer than Ross has? I'm not sure, but it's crazy how the same writer's work can be so different.

Overall I loved the Rick Ross people. Especially the boss naps.

As many Americans cringe at the topic of taxes, I similarly did so upon reading the tile for Leporne’s article: “Tax Time.” While the subject at hand appeared to be bland and uninteresting, Leporne managed to secure the reader’s interest by making the topic relatable and relevant to all readers.

Last week in class we discussed the article “Slow Motion Torture,” in Rolling Stone. One of the qualities we recognized that made the piece so captivating was the profile the author included to open the piece and follow up with throughout.

 While this piece was not simply a window to one man’s life, it made the piece more interesting, as we had a story to follow.

I believe that Leporne utilized a similar strategy in her piece. In this case, Leporne opened the article with the San Fransisco earthquake of 1906. This opening paragraph offers readers vivid description of scenery and allows us to understand the incredible importance of taxes- thus, telling readers why they should continue reading.

Additionally, the use of the example of the earthquake is particularly apt as it resonates with those who were recently affected by Hurricane Sandy just a few weeks ago. (“Sometimes it takes a natural disaster, like an earthquake, or a hurricane--maybe especially one that happens the week before a Presidential election--to remind people what their taxes pay for.”)

Although Leporne focuses the majority of her piece to the history of taxes, she does not fail to highlight the timeliness of the topic- noting the upcoming birthday of the Federal Reserve and the changes that will be brought into effect as a result of the recent election.

Above all, Leporne’s piece is informative. She begins in 1906, yet retreats back to the times of early America and the civil war. Leporne continues to note alterations in taxation policies in the United States in a chronological fashion. I think that her use of quotes from a wide range of sources added to the piece.

Leporne maintains her reader’s interest by referring back to the earthquake in the middle of her piece. She writes, “In 1906, the day the earthquake hit and the fires began, people raced to the San Francisco Bay and boarded ferries to escape the flames,” causing readers to remember the scene she described earlier on.

Also earlier in the piece, Leporne refers to the passage of the Sixteenth Amendment as a disaster or a “fiscal cliff.” She returns to this imagery again at the very end of her writing telling us, “The fiscal cliff is an imaginary disaster; it exists only so long as members of Congress and the President are unable to resolve their differences.”

I think this use of imagery was particularly effective. Another moment in which Leporne uses imagery that stuck out to me was when she compared politicians to matadors. She writes, “One reason the situation has come to this is that politicians don't like to talk about taxes, except to use them the way a matador uses a red cape.”

KELLEY KING

INTERMEDIATE NONFICTION

CLASS OF THURSDAY, NOVEMBER 29TH 2012

"SLOW MOTION TORTURE" BY JEFF TIETZ ROLLING STONE DECEMBER 6TH 2012

First I'd like to say I like the layout. I really like that drawing on the second page of the concrete man, and I like the black and white and the lines and the big black block letters to start new sections. Other photos are nice too. I think it enhances the feeling of a prison we're supposed to get. Whatever that means.

I know about prisons from the movies! And that's it! I'd heard of solitary confinement but didn't think it happened a lot and when it did not for that long. So it's a pretty surprising article to me. And, therefore, I think, very relevant because it's telling us something we (or at least I) didn't know which makes it urgent because now we do know! and besides that it is real interesting. I imagine people can relate to it. Like think of the times when you've felt loneliest and most restless and penned up and trapped and imagine it's a thousand times worse than that and it's physically (not just mentally) enforced and it's basically forever, like you're there for YEARS. Supposing everyone has felt lonely and trapped, then this article is good in that people can connect to it, I would think.

I thought the detail of the inmate trying to rescue a moth by sewing its wing together with a strand of his own hair was kinda mind-blowing and fantastic, like what a great image! I thought the concreteness of details like the pacing did a good job at showing, "yeah, this solitary confinement messes with their heads, but it messes with their heads SO MUCH that you can see its repercussions transferred over into the physical tangible world."

I thought it was interesting they didn't expand more on the story of the first main-man interview. Like he murdered somebody, that's a big deal, but they didn't try to play it off like "well, he didn't mean to, or he was coerced by bigger badder robbers of his group, or he was young and on so many drugs he wasn't himself..." Maybe that's because that's not really important to the author's message - maybe he doesn't want to make excuses because maybe solitary confinement is so bad that even really bad dudes should't have to go through it. I mean this guy couldn't have been that bad because he got out of jail, but still - I think its significant the author wasn't right away trying to make him look less guilty.

Good how he not only said the bad conditions of solitary but also how the people got in there. Solitary confinement is bad enough but when he tells us that a lot of the people go in their not because of judges but just because the prison guards or wardens or whatever want them to? That's so silly. I think that fact would make people want to do something to help (though who really ever does? but still more than usual though) than if he hadn't mentioned how they got in and only what happens once they're in.

The Hell-Raiser by Kelefa Sanneh in the Nov. 26 New Yorker profiles Rob Bell’s hills and valleys of searching for faithful truth and personal esteem.  The piece begins with a snapshot of Bell “a provocateur, but a mild-mannered one, with a pinched, nasal voice that somehow projects calm,” describing his build, age, dress, and career.  By presenting such a description, Sanneh provides a frame for the piece – telling the reader how we should view Bell without really giving the reader the opportunity to decide for him/herself.  Biblical scripture and Greek translation are sprinkled throughout the piece as a kind of authority-building presence for the author and subject.  On p. 57, the second full section of the piece, we read about Bell’s conversion.  Perhaps the most influential moment to Bell’s life, as the reader we only hear about it from Sanneh rather than Bell himself.  I would’ve liked to see more quotes in this section.  On the top of p. 59 Sanneh again describes Bell, this time Bell’s preaching, as both conversational and theatrical, full of meaningful pauses that make listeners lean forward.  I thought that was a nice visual and helps the reader to connect Bell to another speaker we’ve heard who captured our attention.  There’s a strong section on evangelical history (p. 60-61), which I always find interesting in these New Yorker pieces with a religious/faithful slant.  The New Yorker authors present the history impacting the profile/piece.  This gives a kind of academic authority providing a frame for the reader to place the piece within history.  A nice use of scene that stood out to me was on p. 64 where Sanneh describes when Bell preached his final sermon.  The use of timing, seasonal weather, and addition of fair-trade coffee provide a nice visual for the reader.