Dear Wags
Wag weighed in on Tár back when it hit theaters, but I just caught up Todd Field’s movie last week. Cate Blanchett’s brilliant take on a female predator should have been seen by more people. (Like Wag Dan Kois I’m inclined to believe the final act was a dream sequence.) As a lover of German, I was fascinated by how the film played with the language of gender. Imperious Lydia Tár rejects female terms like maestra and mother to describe herself. In one intense scene, she tells one of her young daughter’s schoolmates she is “die Vater von Petra,” or Petra’s father. That linguistic rule-breaking —using the feminine die with the masculine Vater—speaks to our moment.
I’m even more compelled by the idea of the female art monster, a term Jenny Offill helped popularize in her novel, Dept. of Speculation. The art monster is a genius who puts the pursuit of creativity before anything—and anyone—else. Perhaps you’ve noticed creative men have been getting away with that for millennia.
In self-possessed women, that sort of behavior is often labeled monstrous. You can’t be someone’s wife or mother and put your art first. Historically, you could be somebody’s husband and father and be wholly consumed by grand projects. In Tár, Lydia’s wife Sharon is the first chair violinist in the orchestra, which allows her to be the primary caregiver for their daughter. First violin may be a prominent job, but it’s secondary to the traditionally masculine role of all-powerful conductor. In creativity and marriage, that is the creative backseat wives are used to.
Here’s how all this relates to the writing life: In Tár, Lydia has just published a biography, titled —of course!—Tár on Tár. She has a stereotypically male ego. We’re only beginning to see what happens when women assert themselves in this way.
Over the years, I’ve interviewed hundreds of authors about their books. Among them were famous chefs, explorers, movie stars, entrepreneurs, athletes, and politicians. But when I’d ask about why they felt they needed to write a book, the answers were always some variation of this: They wanted to control their story.
None of us, even ridiculously gifted and deceitful Lydia Tár, really controls our lives. We can’t even control our dreams, as Lydia painfully learns. But we do have some control over our own written narratives. We get to choose what’s included in the story, and what’s left out.
In the film, Lydia herself is revealed to be an invention. She’s her own terrible, beautiful work of art. For her, the pursuit of perfection is everything. That’s crystallized in the film’s most powerful scene, when she dresses down a Juilliard student who tells her he finds Bach regressive. In the rant that follows, she lectures a roomful of young people to pay attention to the eternal genius of classical works rather than holding their creators to modern standards.
There’s truth in that. Artists often lead spectacularly messy lives, but the greatest among them assert sublime control over their work, and their inventions deserve to be evaluated on artistic terms. Ugly characters sometimes create things of beauty. If Lydia Tár teaches us anything, it’s that you don’t need to excuse a monster to appreciate her confounding genius.
Yours ever,
BKP
My Name Is Iris by Brando Skyhorse
Skyhorse grew up believing he was Native American and his mother didn’t reveal their Mexican-American heritage until he was a teenager. Naturally, complex feelings about identity filter through his fiction. In his new novel, a young woman named Iris (really Inés) confronts her status as an immigrant after all Americans are assigned ID bracelets. If you have one U.S.-born parent, you are given one of these identifiers, but if you are like Iris, an eerie wall only you can see materializes in the front yard. Skyhorse employs satire to great effect in this fantasy set in an increasingly xenophobic America.
Time’s Mouth by Edan Lepucki
Lepucki’s latest novel is very, very weird. It’s also very, very wonderful—the kind of novel you can happily lose yourself in, preferably in a hammock. That will enhance the feeling that you’re spending time in the California commune run by the protagonist, Ursa. She teaches other women to time travel through dreams, a talent she’s had since she was an unhappy ’50s teen. When her son Ray is left to raise his infant daughter Opal alone, Ursa uses her powers to help them. Time passes, and Opal discovers she has the same gifts. The adolescent uncovers family secrets in a journey that’s even wilder and more healing than her grandmother’s. This book’s a knockout.
Tom Lake by Ann Patchett
When I interviewed Patchett for the L.A. Times recently, we talked indie bookstores (she owns Parnassus Books in Nashville). The shop had a surge in sales during this summer’s Taylor Swift concerts, because it turns out Tay Tay fans are huge readers—no surprise there. Her new novel is set in a Michigan cherry orchard (hello, Anton Chekhov) and centers on a fifty-something mom entertaining her grown daughters with tales of her Hollywood days. Those adventures began with a star turn in Our Town (hello, Thornton Wilder). The mom, Lara, spins yarns like Scheherazade as way of weathering the global pandemic. But she keeps a few tidbits to herself, and the novel’s beating heart is in these details. Both Patchett fans and newbies will love this book.
Witness: Stories by Jamel Brinkley
I’ve been thinking a lot about the differences between exploring racial and cultural difference through a singular narrative as opposed to group sagas. Mainstream audiences are typically more receptive to stories that follow one heroic, relatable protagonist. Sometimes, the point isn’t to convey individual progress but to capture a larger experience. Brinkley’s new set of stories features a diverse array of Black New Yorkers whose lives intersect for better and worse. Their writing styles are different, but his book reminds me of one of my favorite reads of 2022, The Tenants Upstairs by Sidiq Fofana, in its ambition to portray a community’s struggles.
Those We Thought We Knew by David Joy
If you’ve already read S. A. Cosby’s brilliant thriller set in southwest Virginia, be sure to check out Joy’s North Carolina-set fiction. His latest involves a young Black artist, Toya Gardner, who returns to her hometown after a stint in Atlanta. She’s unnerved to find the place still has a Confederate monument, and expands her graduate thesis to get at why. Then a local klansman is found dead in the back of a car. How will a close-knit Appalachian community cope with the long-simmering tensions that crime unleashes? Joy, who is white, explores how complacent residents confront the ugly truths hidden behind small town smiles.
1. Ethique. I’m tired of pulling out bags of liquids for TSA checks. I’m also tired of using little plastic containers, which are bad for the environment. We have an overseas trip coming up, and I want to have things I really love in my toiletry bag. So, I’ve been checking out shampoo, toothpaste, and body lotion in solid forms that won’t hold up a security line. Ethique wins big points for its all-natural scents, great formulations (dry, oily, curly hair), and sustainable paper packaging. Check out this lovely face-serum mini bar, which should last you a week or two.
2. Smitten Kitchen’s Strawberry Summer Cake. I’ve provided a few recipes from Wag Deb Perelman’s genius site before, and this one is a staple. It’s a cake works hard for a hungry household—perfect for after school snacks, a Netflix binge (try it with crème fraîche or ice cream) and even breakfast. It’ll be gobbled up before you know it. I used to think a classic clafoutis was the perfect summer dessert, but got tired of the egginess. And if you’re gluten free or have other dietary sensitivities, check out my dear friend Liz Prueitt’s Insta. She’s he co-founder of Tartine and the most brilliant gluten-free baker in the land.
3. One Tote to Rule Them All: Thirty years ago, I bought the boat and tote bag above. That was back when we never thought of having anything embroidered on it but a monogram. It’s lasted through many summers (and falls, winters, and springs), hauling books, clothing, ice skates, beach towels, groceries, even fireplace logs. Not a stitch has come loose. I’m not going to endorse a specific specific brand here—just go out and get the biggest, sturdiest tote you can find (excellent options exist here and here). Use the hell out of it instead of following silly luggage fads.
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“You are the Wag. Everything else – it’s just the weather.” – Pema Chödrön
Nice piece about Tár and great point about the German. As a translator of German to English, I found her effective use of German yet another stunning power move that I wasn’t sure all noticed. What an amazing film! What an amazing actor/Schauspielerin!