Best Reads of the Week
I'm dedicating some extra space in this issue to some articles that I particularly enjoyed reading this week. First up, we've got The Chicago Tribune's look at August 8, 1988, or the day that Wrigley Field had its first night game, which then got rained out in the fourth inning, because Chicago weather, and had to be played the next night. Thirty years ago, the idea of having a night game in Wrigleyville caused mass outrage among locals, who worried about noise and traffic dominating the neighborhood on school nights. In the article, reporter Teddy Greenstein pulls together interviews with former Cubs players, politicians and community members to discuss their memories of 8-8-88.
Changing directions, I found an article in The Atlantic about "health-care gaslighting," or the growing evidence that medical professionals ignore or downplay health concerns from women, particularly interesting. It's a phenomenon that is increasingly alarming, as more and more anecdotes come to light. Reporter Ashley Fetters cites Serena Williams' Vogue cover story from January, where she details the struggle to be taken seriously when she told doctors she was experiencing a pulmonary embolism, as one of the first of many stories that came to light in 2018. As a women, I've seen medical professionals downplay health concerns that I've expressed and that other women in my life have expressed, and I'm so glad that this dangerous trend is being recognized more and more.
In other Atlantic piece, Sophie Gilbert writes about The Lie of Little Women and dissects the true intentions behind Louisa May Alcott's most famous book. I've always hated the way that this novel gets dismissed as a children's book, so it was especially nice to read Sophie's piece and be reminded of the many intricacies at work in this literary classic. While many remember Little Women as a picturesque look into the lives of the March family, the story actually offers a critique of traditional female roles of the time. Sophie writes, "The character who continually resists conforming to traditional expectations of demure femininity and domesticity (Jo) is the true heroine, and the character who unfailingly acquiesces (Beth) dies shortly after reaching adulthood." She also delves into the many past and recent adaptions of the story. You can also find the hilarious (albeit insulting) anecdote that James T. Fields, who was the editor of The Atlantic in 1842, was not so thrilled with Louisa May Alcott's writing and gave her $40 to go open a school, after some of her articles were published in the magazine. For shame!
And finally, Vanity Fair is publishing special articles for their Emmys Edition in advance of the September 17 broadcast. Reporter Hillary Busis sat down with Rachel Brosnahan, the star of The Marvelous Mrs. Maisel, which scored 14 Emmy nominations. Rachel is nominated for best actress, and her charm, humor and ability to keep up with Amy Sherman-Palladino's spitfire dialogue makes the Amazon series really work. The interview focuses on Rachel's origins and comedy methods. While she originally worried about portraying a stand-up comedian in the series, Rachel pushed past that by doing her homework and attending plenty of stand-up shows to prepare. A teaser trailer for the show's second season premiered last week, so between this article and the promo, I can't wait to see what Rachel does next.
As Seen on TV
I watched Parks and Recreation off-and-on for many years, when it was on the air and through Netflix. Recently, I've started a re-watch of the series, in another attempt to find solace outside of real world politics. I'm finding a new appreciation as I take a second look at the NBC hit. There's the driven, funny and caring Leslie Knope, played by the ever-talented Amy Poehler. The writes finally nail down Leslie's character as the second season ends, and take her on a journey from Parks and Rec leader to city council member to the National Park Service and beyond. As you watch Leslie's professional journey, she also meets and falls in love with Ben Wyatt, who starts off as a grumpy state auditor and is almost immediately charmed by Leslie's passion for Pawnee. Parks and Rec avoids the will-they-won't-they pattern that most shows fall into, and keeps Ben and Leslie as a dynamic partnership throughout the entire series. They find drama in outside forces instead -- from the mundane, but hilarious, complaints of Pawnee citizens to elections to filibusters to the clash of the many eccentric workers that make up the Parks Department. Ron Swanson, my personal favorite, is the quiet libertarian that runs the Department. It's a rare occurrence for Ron to let loose or express pure joy, and when he does, it's TV magic. His friendship with Leslie is so special. Two people are function as complete opposites truly get each other on this show. It's contradictory pairings like these (April/Leslie, Andy/April, Ben/Chris, Tom/Ben, etc.) that make Parks such a magical show, because each character ultimately has genuine love and respect for the others. If you're looking for a show full of heart to brighten up your days, Parks and Recreation will give you all the feels.
Haven't You Heard?
The summer of 2018 is lacking a strong contender for song of the summer, so as August reaches the mid-way point, I'm pressing replay on a song from Taylor Swift's November album, reputation. Delicate was released as the sixth single off of her album back in March but has reached peak radio play this summer, rising to number one on the pop charts last month. The song is by far one of my favorites off reputation, and I find myself hearing Taylor echo "isn't it, isn't it" throughout the day after listening to the song once in the morning. Delicate has a relaxed summer feel to it, which provides a contrast to the rest of her album which is darker, heavier and feels more frantic. Delicate resets things midway through the album, as Taylor expresses her excitement at meeting her new, blue-eyed beau ("Dark jeans and your Nikes, look at you/Oh damn, never seen that color blue/Just think of the fun things we could do") and her insecurities, which pound underneath the entire song ("Is it cool that I said all that/Is it too soon to do this yet?/'Cause I know that it's delicate/Isn't it?/Isn't it?/Isn't it?"). The song really captures the infatuation and the fear of a new relationship, and is so catchy, as most Taylor hits are. If you've already listened to Delicate time and time over, you can also check out the Delicate -- Seeb Remix. I'm not usually a big remix person, but I heard this version playing at the reputation tour and fell in love. It keeps many of the elements of the song the same, but chooses to emphasize and repeat the line, "Do the girls back home touch you like I do?" over and over again. It gives new meaning to what basically functions as a throw-away line in the original version and gives a fun, extra pop to the song.
Required Reading
Reviews have come out universally panning Netflix's newest original series Insatiable. The show, which The CW notably decided not to order to series, is about 17-year-old Patty who loses 70 pounds after having her jaw wired shut. While the creator of the show, Lauren Gussis, has defended the series, saying it's a story about insecurity and female rage, others have pointed out its many, many flaws. NPR's Linda Holmes wrote a particularly insightful and scathing review of the series, where she address its many problems. She points out that it's not only offensive to most characters, playing into stereotypes in a lazy way, but it also is just poorly written overall. She writes, "The buck-up-little-buddy message of [a particular] sequence is not 'love yourself no matter how you look' or 'fat shaming is bad.' It's 'even if you don't see it, you are in fact thin and pretty!' Nothing here is challenging what categories of people deserve love; only whether Patty can learn to accept that she's been in the good category ever since they wired her jaw shut. Maybe the intent is to say Patty always deserved love, but there is no way — none — around the fact that if what you want to demonstrate in a story is that someone deserves love in a particular state of being, you must show them being loved in that state. And if you, the storyteller, can't bring yourself to show it, you probably don't quite believe it."
