Tag Archives: America

Monday 09/25 2017
An Obama Speechwriter’s Memoir Makes Clear the Power of Presidential Words

“He [Trump] does this via shock and awe, brute force and braggadocio, channeling every Wall Street wolf and old school football coach who came before him. He speaks in centipede sutures and staples, exclamations and catechisms field trauma care for the gaping wounds where his thoughts have been punctured or sloughed away. He breaks, plods, stutters, roars, a dog whistle the only sounds cutting through the cacophony, his cadence ambling like a skull rolling downhill and thoughts left dangling from the gallows, the familiar, wayfaring elements of the English language made alien, frightening by their appearance and affect, their design—truly, their lack thereof—and delivery, rhetoric as re-animated cat skeleton.”

Read the rest of my essay on David Litt’s memoir Thanks, Obama: My Hopey, Changey White House Years in Paste Magazine

Tuesday 06/6 2017
No Pity: Masculinity and Haruki Murakami’s “Men Without Women”

“Any discussion of male loneliness must begin with two caveats. The first is that our loneliness cannot be the fault of women; this is no fedora-wearing, MRA message board polemic. The second is that the issues which may exacerbate loneliness are our own fault, stemming from concepts of masculinity that have given us a pretty good shake for millennia.

Modern American Masculinity is the one I know best, and it feels defined by stoicism, by beards and guns and backwards Flexfit baseball caps. Such atavistic ideas can be deeply alluring; I know, because I have felt them, too. So when a man who defines himself by his Modern American Masculinity is presented with something corrosive like loneliness, he can either sacrifice a part of that masculinity and express his emotional pain or internalize it and immolate with rage. One guess as to what choice many men make.”

Read the rest of my essay in Paste Magazine

Wednesday 11/12 2014
The Invisible (Yet-Most-Visible-In-History!) Empire

“Assange, though his name may well be, at this point, a synecdoche for cyber-terrorist, the 21st-century horror—comes off in his own book as an eloquent, if not unbiased, guide. He turns out to be a shockingly good author, particularly in light of some media stereotyping suggesting a pallid oracle with the sphinx’s leash betwixt his teeth and a bald eagle around his neck, his chemical eyes glowing in the night as government adjules bay outside his window.”

Read the rest of my review of Julian Assange’s When Google Met WikiLeaks at Paste Magazine