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This year at The New York Review, we published forty-five interviews as part of our weekly “Brief Encounters” series. In these conversations with our contributors, which have covered topics as diverse as the Ozarks, Beyoncé, screwball comedies, humor writing, and the pleasures of archival research, we ask our writers to illuminate their process, to share the ideas they left out of their essays, or to tell us more about their passion for the subjects about which they write. Below we have collected a selection of interviews from the year alongside the articles that inspired them, as well as our
interview with Joseph O’Neill from the week of the presidential election.
“Must the onus of opposition again be borne by our concerned citizenry, now exhausted and dispirited after nearly a decade of extraordinary civic effort? Who can they look to for leadership and inspiration? Barack Obama? Mark Cuban? Who have issued statements congratulating Donald Trump on his victory?”
“The defense of human rights is a hard-ball endeavor, it is not about holding hands and singing kumbaya but about imposing consequences that shift the cost-benefit analysis behind governmental repression.”
“Just as Israel’s bombing and starving of Palestinian civilians have created an acute need for health care, most Palestinians have been deprived of it. They have also been left without more routine forms of medical attention, such as dialysis, cancer treatment, or maternity care, and have only limited, if any, access to basic medication.”
“There’s nothing numb about everyday life. It’s we who are being rendered numb, our senses sanded flat precisely in order to compel us to reach for the incessant shortcuts, the sugar-like highs—the jolts of artificial stimuli—that bypass our sensory detectors to keep us distracted, entertained.”
“Much American art after the rise of the abstract expressionists was regarded as slightly old-fashioned and out of it, and I remember discussions in which the abstract was promoted as a way for African Americans to escape what were thought of as the burdens of the representational. As if African American history were a limitation. ”
“If anything, the exhibition liberates the individual African American artist. It says how eclectic the past is in its artistic practices and styles. It is a history lesson, one that reminds us that we are as far from the beginnings of Modernism as Modernism was from the Romantic era.”
“The past has an integrity of its own, and historical knowledge can best serve the present by preserving this integrity, not least by widening the imagination and by insisting on the complexity of historical change.”
“I do not speak as a theologian but as a historian. We should remember that the people we study lived in a world crowded with invisible beings.”
“Novels shouldn’t read like movie treatments: they should behave, at least some of the time, in ways that are fundamentally unfilmable. Otherwise the writer isn’t really doing their job as a steward of their own tradition.”
“Haushofer . . . beautifully evokes what it’s like to become immersed in physical labor, especially slow, solitary labor carried out for days on end. The narrator tells us about her sore muscles, her growing strength, and her changing body, and about learning when to push herself forward and when to rest.”
“The only reason we didn’t descend into violence that day was that the students remained calm. They were the only adults in the room.”
“What if the Israeli flag—waved at pro-Israel protests on campus and draped over the shoulders of students sitting in class, even as the IDF has killed over twenty thousand Palestinians, wounded many more, displaced 90 percent of Gaza’s population, and deprived it of fuel, food, water, and medicine—makes Palestinian students feel threatened or unsafe?”
Join Merve Emre for the next installment in her seminar series “What Will She Do?” Four one-hour sessions beginning March 3.
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