“Hot, Cold, Heavy, Light, 100 Art Writings 1988-2018” by Peter Schjeldahl
“Schjeldahl has enriched the sensibilities of several generations by narrating his own process of looking, thinking, and feeling — making it seem like something that anyone with a pair of eyes and an open heart can do.”
“Hot, Cold, Heavy, Light” is a collection of Peter Schjeldahl’s writings from his prolific career. The Pulitzer finalist was an early writer at the Village Voice and later went on to be the New Yorker’s chief art critic until his death in 2022. Compiled by critic Jarrett Earnest, the book is organized into four sections which follow the categories of the title. Earnest explains in the introduction that he placed Schjeldahl’s articles into the groups based on the “tone” and “attitude” of each piece — for example, commentary on young Rembrandt is “heavy,” while the written attitudes toward Marcel Duchamp and Man Ray are “light.”
Schjeldahl writes about fine art — which can often be written about in an elitist and overly complicated overtone — in an approachable and personal manner. He covers everyone from the Greeks to Martin Luther and Jeff Koons in an educational and entertaining way. Any reader can enjoy his voice, no matter how knowledgeable they are about art.
— Alexa Donovan, Arts Editor
“Men Have Called Her Crazy: A Memoir” by Anna Marie Tendler
I have been a fan of Anna Marie Tendler’s photography for years. Then, I became an even bigger fan of her memoir. “Men Have Called Her Crazy” opens with Tendler’s experience going to a treatment facility during the COVID-19 pandemic, and almost every other chapter is a flashback to her youth.
Through great commentary and the smoothest writing I have read in years, Tendler shares a vulnerable story of how men have driven her mad and then were shocked when she acted as such. She reflects on her dynamics and interactions with men from a young age, explaining her thought process at the time compared to what she now understands about the situations — finally concluding that men have been the root cause to all of her problems.
My favorite part of the memoir is that Tendler dedicated it to the women who have made her life amazing, including her recently-deceased French bulldog, Petunia. Throughout the book, readers learn about the female friendships that have carried Tendler through her hardest moments that allowed her to feel hopeful in a hopeless world.
— Alisia Houghtaling, Multimedia Editor
“Swimming in the Dark” by Tomasz Jedrowski
Tomasz Jedrowski’s “Swimming in the Dark” is a romance set against the backdrop of political collapse in 1980s Poland. Two young men, Ludwik and Janusz, meet at an agricultural camp one summer and fall into a passionate affair. Their love, however, is forbidden in their Catholic, Communist world. While Ludwik dreams of a society where he could one day publicly declare his love, Janusz supports the continuation of the regime, content to keep seeing Ludwik in secret.
Jedrowski draws the audience seamlessly between two co-existing worlds: the cold desolation of communist poverty, and the lavish world of the elite. Janusz is drawn to the latter, quickly scaling the ranks of the Communist Party and befriending the daughter of a top official, who invites the men to her parties — smoky rooms full of foods and riches that are inaccessible to the rest of the population. Ludwik, shocked and disgusted by such inequality, begins recklessly protesting against the government, driving a deeper wedge between himself and Janusz. While political differences cause deep strains between the two men, Jedrowski refuses to vilify either character, instead showing how an unjust political system can cause people to behave in malicious ways, even to the ones they love most.
— Anna Baird-Hassell, Deputy Managing Editor
“Piranesi” by Susanna Clarke
From its very first sentence, Susanna Clarke’s novel “Piranesi” immediately cast me in its wondrous spell. The book’s titular character, Piranesi, lives in a strange parallel universe he calls the House, an endless labyrinth filled with marble statues and rushing tides. He does not know his real name, only that it isn’t actually Piranesi. According to him, there is only one other person who lives in his world — his friend, an old man named the Other. Piranesi loves exploring the House and takes it as his mission to take care of the strange world, but as the story unravels, it becomes clear that the House is not what it seems, and he is not who he thinks he is.
Piranesi is instantly lovable for his admirable innocence and childlike sense of wonder. Though the House is dangerous, readers come to appreciate it because of how much Piranesi loves it.
The enthralling mystery of the House and Piranesi’s identity becomes a poignant reflection on trauma and the meaning of existence.
With “Piranesi,” Clarke somehow perfectly balances both heartbreak and the sheer joy of being alive. With one of the most impactful and emotionally gratifying endings I’ve ever read, it had me weeping tears of joy and happiness in the middle of the subway.
— Ella Sabrina Malabanan, Staff Writer
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