When people say spring has sprung, they actually mean it has emerged from inside itself. Spring has ejected from its own abdomen through a lovely, vulvic little déchirure in the side. The whole thing sounded exactly like you’d think it … Read More
Rorschach tests and free-association exercises seem to me too well known, too expected to be useful for psychoanalysis. But I have found a new test to capture the shallower motions of our subconscious: the words of students childishly bumbling and … Read More
“Displays of public indecency jolted me more than I’d like to admit. Living in the city this summer, I felt I was experiencing patriarchy as I had as a little girl—as something new.”
Marc Maron seemed to me an incongruous choice for a Princeton lecturer. Having watched some of his standup, I knew him to be both raucously funny and intensely personal, traits which aren’t particularly in demand on this campus.
The Tour “There’s so much to see and to do in New Jersey!” The Triangulites belted out the lyric from the Princeton Triangle show. New Jersey! Yeah! Except, we were in North Carolina! And we have sung the damn song … Read More
One of my favorite pieces of writing that I’ve ever read is “Pafko at the Wall,” a novella by Don DeLillo that also serves as the opening to his massive novel _Underworld_. The story is about “The Shot Heard ‘round … Read More
I logged on to Facebook to check it out. Her sister was fourteen, a freshman in high school. She had about a thousand friends and did not have 113 likes—it was up to 115 now, in the thirty minutes that elapsed since Allie’s text.
The audience for Samantha Power last Friday appeared to be the usual crowd for talks at Princeton: half students interested in the subject matter at hand, and half older townies getting a taste of culture. “War Crimes and Genocide Today: What Can One Person Do?” was hosted by the Woodrow Wilson School, and it showed in the composition of the crowd. The students had a confused, sympathetic mixture of careerism and noblesse oblige; one, after asking what she should do to prepare for her trip to Bosnia this summer (that’s right, she’s going to Bosnia, folks! Sniper fire!), was happily offered a card from the wife of a UN official. The older ones, on the other hand, had the weary, insecure but comfortable look of those inhabiting the many, multiplying rings of power just outside the one that matters. “What can one person do,” of course, is heard by all of these people as “What can I do?”—a question that, in its necessity and its limitations, cuts to the heart of what is both brilliant and unfortunate about Samantha Power.
When a movie really does what it’s supposed to, when it makes you want to stay in the theater and think about, discuss and absorb what you just saw on the screen, it can be an experience like no other. This is not to say that it is better than reading an excellent book, discovering an extraordinary album, or seeing a breathtaking theatrical production, for each of these things can shake you to your core in their own unique ways. But when you witness the birth of a truly amazing film, when you sit in the dark and realize that what you are seeing has managed to do almost everything right, these moments are ones to be cherished, and Martin Scorsese has given the public more of them than any other American director of his generation.
