SIGN IN to access Harper’s Magazine
Need to create a login? Want to change your email address or password? Forgot your password?
1. Sign in to Customer Care using your account number or postal address.
2. Select Email/Password Information.
3. Enter your new information and click on Save My Changes.
Subscribers can find additional help here. Not a subscriber? Subscribe today!
At the end of the day, I read for pleasure. There are certain authors I like to read and reread. Especially Twain. The Library of America series has a collection of Twain’s miscellaneous writings–invectives, journalism, burlesques. To my mind he’s the greatest of the American writers. I’ll go back and read Edith Wharton, the House of Mirth. I reread Patrick O’Brian and Alan Furst. I reread Rameau’s Nephew by Diderot, a book by Philip Guedalla called The Hundred Years, Lytton Strachey’s Elizabeth and Essex. At the moment, I’m rereading Balzac’s Lost Illusions. To me it concurs with what I know about the sorrows of Grub Street in Manhattan, in terms of publishing and journalism. I read for the pleasure of the sentence structure, or the use of language, or the control of metaphor, or for a sense of humor. Or the civilizing voice that is not particularly surprised or shocked by the world’s wickedness. If I come across a writer who’s obsessed with himself, I’m not usually interested. I know I’m not like a lot of your other Media Diets. I do read for the fun of it, thank God. –“Lewis Lapham: What I Read,” interviewed by Benjamin F. Carlson, The Atlantic Wire
Space travel entails hazards ranging from run-of-the-mill internal organ rupture to solar flares, whose radiation can break DNA molecules and spell certain death for crews in deep space. Then there’s micro-gravity, which can cause bone demineralization and muscle loss; and decompression sickness, which can trigger illness or death. And that’s just the physical. Imagine cabin fever on a three-year mission to the red planet: confined in a small space with a small crew, engulfed in the blackness of space, astronauts are susceptible to extreme anxiety, depression, and possibly psychosis, any of which could easily jeopardize the mission. In other words, as human technology advances and astronauts venture farther from Earth, human vulnerability has become the space program’s greatest limitation. –“No One Can Hear You Scream,” Ivan Hansen, The Walrus
In Boston, in the Combat Zone, the ceilings of the city’s oldest gay bar were decorated for every holiday, swathed in enough ribbons of crepe paper to keep what must have been a faltering industry alive. In Providence, right across the street from the renovated civic theatre where touring companies mounted Broadway shows for the pleasures of suburban visitors, steam from the baths’ laundry poured out all night from second-story vents, roiling in the winter air. Such neighborhoods seemed doomed, at the twentieth century’s end, giving way to new urban lofts and condo conversions, or the kind of managed shopping/dining/residential complexes the developers were calling “lifestyle centers.” There was plenty not to be nostalgic about—grit, danger, the evidence of human suffering on display—and yet those places were also haunted, in part because they’d been free zones for gay men for at least half a century, parts of the city where desire could play out almost freely. –“The Story of Our Lives is So Locked Down,” Mark Doty, Tin House
More from TedRoss:
Flor Arely Sánchez had been in bed with a fever and pains throughout her body for three days when a July thunderstorm broke over the mountainside. She got nervous when bolts of light flashed in the sky. Lightning strikes the San Julián region of western El Salvador several times a year, and her neighbors fear storms more than they fear the march of diseases — first dengue, then chikungunya, now Zika. Flor worried about a lot of things, since she was pregnant.
Late in the afternoon, when the pains had somewhat eased, Flor thought she might go to a dammed-up bit of the river near her house to bathe. She is thirty-five and has lived in the same place all her life, where wrinkled hills are planted with corn, beans, and fruit trees. She took a towel and soap and walked out into the rain. Halfway to the river, the pains returned and overcame her. The next thing Flor remembers, she was in a room she didn’t recognize, unable to move. As she soon discovered, she was in a hospital, her ankle cuffed to the bed, and she was being investigated for abortion.
Average number of new microwave food products introduced every day In 1987:
Cocaine addicts prefer $500 in cash now to $1,000 worth of cocaine later.
Scientists in the Galápagos Islands credited an endangered giant tortoise named Diego with saving his species by fathering more than 800 offspring.
Subscribe to the Weekly Review newsletter. Don’t worry, we won’t sell your email address!
“Matt was happy enough to sustain himself on the detritus of a world he saw as careening toward self-destruction, and equally happy to scam a government he despised. 'I’m glad everyone’s so wasteful,' he told me. 'It supports my lifestyle.'”