Introduction

What is The New Yorker? I know it’s a great magazine and that it’s a tremendous source of pleasure in my life. But what exactly is it? This blog’s premise is that The New Yorker is a work of art, as worthy of comment and analysis as, say, Keats’s “Ode on a Grecian Urn.” Each week I review one or more aspects of the magazine’s latest issue. I suppose it’s possible to describe and analyze an entire issue, but I prefer to keep my reviews brief, and so I usually focus on just one or two pieces, to explore in each the signature style of its author. A piece by Nick Paumgarten is not like a piece by Jill Lepore, and neither is like a piece by Ian Frazier. One could not mistake Collins for Seabrook, or Bilger for Galchen, or Mogelson for Kolbert. Each has found a style, and it is that style that I respond to as I read, and want to understand and describe.

Wednesday, May 13, 2020

3 Definitions of Love


William Blake, Adam and Eve Sleeping (1808)























1. “ ‘What is love,’ Skinner wrote, ‘except another name for the use of positive reinforcement?’ ” [Tim Wu, “Bigger Brother,” The New York Review of Books, April 9, 2020]

2. “It is Freud’s honesty that rises above his ambitions as a scientist and forces him to acknowledge that this thing called transference-love is a pretty wobbly notion, if not a cover-up for the attraction that develops between a man and a woman who meet every day in a small room and talk about intimate things while one of them is lying down.” [Janet Malcolm, “Lovesick,” The New York Review of Books, April 9, 2020]

3. “Love as we experience it is love for the Unattainable Lady, the Iseult who is ‘ever a stranger, the very essence of what is strange in woman and of all that is eternally fugitive, vanishing and almost hostile in a fellow-being, that which indeed incites to pursuit, and rouses in the heart of a man who has fallen prey to the myth an avidity for possession so much more delightful than possession itself.’ ” [John Updike, “More Love in the Western World,” The New Yorker, August 24, 1963).

No comments:

Post a Comment