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Norman Mailer’s published his first novel, The Naked and the Dead (1948), at the age of twenty-five. “I felt like someone who had been dropped onto Mars,” he recalled of his sudden celebrity. Later works, including the bestselling An American Dream (1965) and the Pulitzer Prize-winning The Executioner’s Song (1979), secured his universal renown.
Harper’s Magazine editor Willie Morris was unable for some time to get Mailer’s work approved by management. “They were scared to death of him,” Morris said. “I think they expected some kind of naked Bolshevik.” Mailer’s first article for Harper’s Magazine was about an anti-Vietnam demonstration at the Pentagon. “Norman went to the demonstrations,” said his editor, Midge Decter, “got himself arrested, and then a day or two later he called up Harper’s and said, ‘I’d like to do a piece on it.’ ” At ninety-five pages, “The Steps of the Pentagon” (March 1968) was the longest article the magazine had ever published, and comprised the first half of The Armies of Night (1968), which went on to win the Pulitzer Prize and National Book Award.
In 1969, Mailer declined to write a piece on the moon landing, claiming that he preferred to write in the tradition of “participatory journalism.” “How can I participate in a landing on the moon?” he asked. “God damnit, I really would like to go to the moon. I’d even get in shape.” He ended up writing the article for Life, which offered him a larger sum.
Mailer’s final article for Harper’s Magazine was an analysis of the women’s liberation movement. “The Prisoner of Sex” constituted virtually the entire March 1971 issue, which sold more copies than any previous. Morris and six other editors resigned at the beginning of March due to long-simmering disagreements with management; he wrote a letter to the press contending that the “article in our current issue by Norman Mailer has deeply disturbed the magazine’s owners,” which fueled interest in the piece. So did Mailer’s feud with Gore Vidal, whose critique of “Prisoner” in The New York Review of Books compared Mailer to Henry Miller and Charles Manson. “We all know that I stabbed my wife many years ago,” Mailer said to Vidal on The Dick Cavett Show, after head-butting him. “You were playing on that.”
Mailer co-founded The Village Voice in 1955, and unsuccessfully ran for mayor of New York City in 1969. In 2007, he published his last novel and died at the age of 84.
For the past three years my dosimeter had sat silently on a narrow shelf just inside the door of a house in Tokyo, upticking its final digit every twenty-four hours by one or two, the increase never failing — for radiation is the ruthless companion of time. Wherever we are, radiation finds and damages us, at best imperceptibly. During those three years, my American neighbors had lost sight of the accident at Fukushima. In March 2011, a tsunami had killed hundreds, or thousands; yes, they remembered that. Several also recollected the earthquake that caused it, but as for the hydrogen explosion and containment breach at Nuclear Plant No. 1, that must have been fixed by now — for its effluents no longer shone forth from our national news. Meanwhile, my dosimeter increased its figure, one or two digits per day, more or less as it would have in San Francisco — well, a trifle more, actually. And in Tokyo, as in San Francisco, people went about their business, except on Friday nights, when the stretch between the Kasumigaseki and Kokkai-Gijido-mae subway stations — half a dozen blocks of sidewalk, which commenced at an antinuclear tent that had already been on this spot for more than 900 days and ended at the prime minister’s lair — became a dim and feeble carnival of pamphleteers and Fukushima refugees peddling handicrafts.
One Friday evening, the refugees’ half of the sidewalk was demarcated by police barriers, and a line of officers slouched at ease in the street, some with yellow bullhorns hanging from their necks. At the very end of the street, where the National Diet glowed white and strange behind other buildings, a policeman set up a microphone, then deployed a small video camera in the direction of the muscular young people in drums against fascists jackets who now, at six-thirty sharp, began chanting: “We don’t need nuclear energy! Stop nuclear power plants! Stop them, stop them, stop them! No restart! No restart!” The police assumed a stiffer stance; the drumming and chanting were almost uncomfortably loud. Commuters hurried past along the open space between the police and the protesters, staring straight ahead, covering their ears. Finally, a fellow in a shabby sweater appeared, and murmured along with the chants as he rounded the corner. He was the only one who seemed to sympathize; few others reacted at all.
Number of U.S. congressional districts in which trade with China has produced more jobs than it has cost:
Young bilingual children who learned one language first are likelier than monolingual children and bilingual children who learned languages simultaneously to say that a dog adopted by owls will hoot.
An Oklahoma legislative committee voted to defund Advanced Placement U.S. History courses, accusing the curriculum of portraying the United States as “a nation of oppressors and exploiters.”
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“He could be one of a million beach-bound, black-socked Florida retirees, not the man who, by some odd happenstance of life, possesses the brain of Albert Einstein — literally cut it out of the dead scientist's head.”