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    PEN America Has Stood By Authors. They Should Stand By PEN.

    All strong institutions stand to benefit from internal dissent and external pressures. But too often, recent efforts to reform institutions have meant reconstituting them in ways that distort or fundamentally undermine their core mission.Nonprofit organizations, governmental agencies, university departments and cultural institutions have ousted leaders and sent their staffs into turmoil in pursuit of progressive political goals. In the wake of the 2016 election and the 2020 murder of George Floyd and in a rush to apply sweeping “In this house we believe” standards unilaterally, organizations have risked overt politicization, mission drift, irrelevance and even dissolution. And now the war in Gaza is ripping its way across American universities.The latest target is PEN America, a nonprofit organization dedicated to free expression by journalists and authors. Last week, after an increasingly aggressive boycott campaign by some of its members, PEN canceled its annual World Voices Festival, which was conceived by Salman Rushdie and was to mark its 20th anniversary in May. This followed a refusal by several writers to have their work considered for PEN’s annual literary awards. The ceremony awarding those prizes was also canceled.An open letter sent to PEN America’s board and trustees and republished on Literary Hub, now the de facto clearinghouse for pro-Palestinian literary-world sentiment, accused the organization of “implicit support of the Israeli occupation” and of “aiding and abetting genocide.” It demanded the resignation of PEN’s longtime C.E.O., Suzanne Nossel, and current president, Jennifer Finney Boylan. According to its 21 signatories, mostly up-and-coming authors, “among writers of conscience, there is no disagreement. There is fact and fiction. The fact is that Israel is leading a genocide of the Palestinian people.”In response and in keeping with its mission of independence and free expression, PEN America accepted the writers’ willingness to voice their conscience. It has also made clear that there is room for more than one point of view on what constitutes genocide and on the current conflict in Gaza.“As an organization open to all writers, we see no alternative but to remain home to this diversity of opinions and perspectives, even if, for some, that very openness becomes reason to exit,” PEN America stated in an open letter to its community.We are having trouble retrieving the article content.Please enable JavaScript in your browser settings.Thank you for your patience while we verify access. If you are in Reader mode please exit and log into your Times account, or subscribe for all of The Times.Thank you for your patience while we verify access.Already a subscriber? Log in.Want all of The Times? Subscribe. More

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    2 Memoirs by Poets

    Carl Sandburg’s boyhood; Carolyn Forché’s political awakening.Antonin Thuillier/Agence France-Presse — Getty ImagesDear readers,Not long ago at a book party (yes, they still exist), I fell into conversation with a well-known poet (they also still exist) who told me that, at her editor’s urging, she was hard at work on her memoir.How’s that going? I asked.“Oh, I hate it!” she told me merrily. She wasn’t used to writing long: “I want to cut every page down to a paragraph, and every paragraph down to a line. I want to be writing poems.”Fair enough. Just because somebody excels at one form of language is no guarantee that she will excel at another; in theory, asking a poet to write a memoir makes no more sense than asking a ballerina to play rugby. But some dancers, it turns out, are spectacular in the scrum. Here are two.—Greg“Prairie-Town Boy,” by Carl SandburgNonfiction, 1955We are having trouble retrieving the article content.Please enable JavaScript in your browser settings.Thank you for your patience while we verify access. If you are in Reader mode please exit and log into your Times account, or subscribe for all of The Times.Thank you for your patience while we verify access.Already a subscriber? Log in.Want all of The Times? Subscribe. More

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    Helen Vendler: An Appreciation

    She devoted her life to showing us how and why.Defenses of poetry by modern poets tend to accentuate the negative. “I too, dislike it,” says Marianne Moore, taking for granted that you feel the same way. “Poetry makes nothing happen,” W.H. Auden admits. “A mug’s game,” T.S. Eliot calls it. William Carlos Williams observes that “it is difficult to get the news from poems.” The bad news about poetry is that it’s obscure, difficult, marginal — a trivial pursuit in a culture preoccupied with other fancies.The good news is that nobody told Helen Vendler. Vendler, who died this week at 90, was an admired professor and a tireless, sometimes combative critic. In both those roles she was, above all, a reader of poems. Not an ideal reader (every writer knows there’s no such thing), but an exemplary everyday reader. She read poetry because she liked it, because it stirred her to thought and feeling, because she believed it mattered in the world.“To know that someone out there is writing down your century, your generation, your language, your life,” she wrote in The New York Times Book Review in 1972, “makes you long for news of yourself, for those authentic tidings of invisible things, as Wordsworth called them, that only come in the interpretation of life voiced by poetry.” This was by way of saluting James Merrill as “one of our indispensable poets,” but Vendler was also making a case for the indispensability of poetry itself, in the most direct and personal terms. Poetry matters insofar as it matters to you.If it does — if, like me, you have spent at least some of your life over the past half century or so looking at poems — you are likely to find yourself in Vendler’s debt. And also, sometimes, in what can feel like a personal quarrel with her.She was such a ubiquitous presence — the go-to poetry reviewer for serious, nonspecialist publications like The New York Review of Books, The Atlantic, The New Yorker and this one — and wrote with such calm, rigorous authority, that some resentment was inevitable. The breadth of her knowledge was formidable, but her taste could seem narrow, her enthusiasm a form of establishment-friendly gatekeeping.She upheld a canon of the English lyric, of first-person poems grounded in strong feeling, passed down from Shakespeare and George Herbert (she wrote books about both) through the Romantics to moderns like Yeats, Auden and, above all, Wallace Stevens. Many of the contemporary poets she praised, like Merrill and Robert Lowell, could be assimilated to that lineage. She was suspicious of more experimental or avant-garde tendencies, and skeptical of poetry overtly political or overly personal. Her criticism, too, avoided the theoretical leaps and sweeping cultural statements that animated literary discourse in and out of the academy.We are having trouble retrieving the article content.Please enable JavaScript in your browser settings.Thank you for your patience while we verify access. If you are in Reader mode please exit and log into your Times account, or subscribe for all of The Times.Thank you for your patience while we verify access.Already a subscriber? Log in.Want all of The Times? Subscribe. More

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    7 Books on Grief, Loss and Bereavement

    Psychologists, counselors and other experts share the titles they recommend most.Joanna Luttrell is well acquainted with grief. The bereavement coordinator supports families that are navigating a child’s terminal illness at St. Jude’s Children’s Hospital in Memphis.From the moment they receive a diagnosis until a year after the loss, “I send letters, resources, emails,” Ms. Luttrell said, so that families know they have support. A big part of the process, she added, involves sharing books.If there’s a “challenging relationship or situation, I might send out a book right away,” she said. “If they’re looking to process their experience, and their emotional response to their experience, I will send one a bit later.”While grief is universal, it’s complicated and highly individualized, Ms. Luttrell said. Reading books can provide perspective and help mourners feel less alone, she has found.We asked Ms. Luttrell, as well as counselors, psychologists and other experts on loss, to recommend the most helpful books about grief.We are having trouble retrieving the article content.Please enable JavaScript in your browser settings.Thank you for your patience while we verify access. If you are in Reader mode please exit and log into your Times account, or subscribe for all of The Times.Thank you for your patience while we verify access.Already a subscriber? Log in.Want all of The Times? Subscribe. More

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    Kathleen Hanna Reveals the Story of Her Life in ‘Rebel Girl’

    The first draft of Kathleen Hanna’s memoir, “Rebel Girl: My Life as a Feminist Punk,” was 600 pages long. As she worked to cut the manuscript, Hanna found herself excising page after page of male violence. “It’s pretty sad, if you read the book, because there’s still a lot in there,” she told me. “I had a joke with my editor about it.” Like, she’d already removed a rape and a kidnapping and a guy who threw a wine glass at her head! “What more do you want from me?”Hanna is super funny. When she takes the stage as the frontwoman of Bikini Kill, Le Tigre or the Julie Ruin, she plays a kind of punk trickster, shifting her voice to resemble a bratty Valley Girl, a demonic cheerleader, an obnoxious male fan. She is always subverting femininity and disarming bad guys with her spiky and irreverent lyrics. But when it came time to write her life story, she realized that she could not playfully twist away from her past.“I keep trying to make my rapes funny, but I have to stop doing that because they aren’t,” she writes in the book, which comes out on May 14.Kathleen Hanna at home with her dog, Terry. While writing her memoir, she was diagnosed with complex post-traumatic stress disorder.OK McCausland for The New York Times“Rebel Girl” documents Hanna’s long career as an underground artist and musician, and its striking intersections with the mainstream. In the 1990s, she helped instigate the riot grrrl movement, calling girls to the front of punk venues and setting off a D.I.Y. feminist ethos that was later assimilated into a girl-power marketing trend. She was a friend of Kurt Cobain’s who scrawled the phrase “Kurt smells like Teen Spirit” on his bedroom wall, inspiring the anthem that exploded into a global phenomenon.Nineties nostalgia applies an appealingly gritty filter to that era’s underground rock scene, but it could be punishing for those who stood in opposition to its white male standard. Hanna has sometimes worried that if she put it all out there, she would be disbelieved. “I’ve been told by men: Oh, you’re just the kind of woman these things happen to, as if I have some sort of smell I’m emanating,” she said. “But I knew that other women would understand.”We are having trouble retrieving the article content.Please enable JavaScript in your browser settings.Thank you for your patience while we verify access. If you are in Reader mode please exit and log into your Times account, or subscribe for all of The Times.Thank you for your patience while we verify access.Already a subscriber? Log in.Want all of The Times? Subscribe. More

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    How Many Biographies on the Page and Screen Do You Know?

    Welcome to Great Adaptations, the Book Review’s regular multiple-choice quiz about literature that has gone on to find new life in the form of movies, television shows, theatrical productions and other formats. This week’s quiz highlights films that were adapted from the biographies or autobiographies of their notable subjects.Just tap or click your answers to the five questions below. And scroll down after you finish the last question for links to the books and their screen adaptations. More

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    2 Books That Capture New York

    A stroll around the city with a great stylist; a comic novel of love and real estate.Devin Oktar Yalkin for The New York TimesDear readers,I don’t make any special claims for New York except that it’s the city I know best. Well, that and the fact that people really do talk a lot about real estate, a subject that somehow manages to be tedious and thrilling, crass and impersonal all at once.The other day, I cried on the subway. This in itself wasn’t a big deal; if you live here long enough, the law of averages dictates that at some point you’re going to sob on an uptown 2 train while people studiously avoid your eyes or, occasionally, glare at you with faint irritation. It has always felt to me like a safe place to cry — a sort of international waters.Of course, on this occasion, I ran into someone I’d known slightly since kindergarten. We ignored the fact that I was weeping and talked vaguely about real estate and our plans to skip an upcoming reunion. I got off two stops early for both our sakes, bought a large pineapple juice and thought about E.B. White.—Sadie“Here Is New York,” by E.B. WhiteNonfiction, 1949We are having trouble retrieving the article content.Please enable JavaScript in your browser settings.Thank you for your patience while we verify access. If you are in Reader mode please exit and log into your Times account, or subscribe for all of The Times.Thank you for your patience while we verify access.Already a subscriber? Log in.Want all of The Times? Subscribe. More

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    Book Review: ‘The Spoiled Heart,’ by Sunjeev Sahota

    “The Spoiled Heart,” by Sunjeev Sahota, contrasts race and class struggles in the story of a man’s downfall.THE SPOILED HEART, by Sunjeev SahotaThe titular spoiled heart of Sunjeev Sahota’s new novel is not spoiled in the sense of being overindulged. It is spoiled in the sense of being ruptured, through hardship. A tragedy in which a man comes to personal and profession ruin, the novel explores whether the ruination is self-inflicted or societal, and whether it is a degenerative condition or if some radical surgery can reverse it. Certainly, Sahota has a surgeon’s dexterous hands, and the reader senses his confidence.Sahota’s fourth novel is his first to be set entirely in England. His debut, “Ours Are the Streets,” portrays the radicalization of a young boy in Sheffield and his life-changing return to his home in Pakistan. “The Year of the Runaways,” a Booker Prize finalist, follows three housemates in Sheffield and the interconnected tales of their migration from India. “China Room” counterposes the story of a young bride in 1929 rural Punjab with that of a second-generation immigrant battling addiction in 1999. Gender inequality, cultural alienation and generational trauma are some of Sahota’s favored themes, and they carry over into “The Spoiled Heart.”The protagonist is a 42-year-old factory manager in Chesterfield named Nayan Olak, who is hoping to advance his career by running for general secretary of Britain’s biggest union. The caregiver to his abusive father, Nayan grieves for his mother and son, who died in a fire in the family home and shop some 20 years prior. His marriage didn’t survive the tragedy, and now, in the fall of 2017, he is finally pursuing a love interest: Helen Fletcher, newly returned to her hometown with her son.Helen is a home health aide, so when she turns down an offer to care for Nayan’s father, we sense a conspicuous withholding of information. She and her teenage son, Brandon, have had to relocate from London after a public furor over remarks Brandon made at his job that were deemed racist — a story that Helen doesn’t disclose until it finds a horrible parallel in Nayan’s life.Withheld revelations and dark secrets drive the novel’s family saga and romantic strands. But the story’s engine lies in the union leadership contest between Nayan, who is running on a class-struggle platform, and Megha Sharma, a self-described change candidate fighting for racial equality. They’re both of Indian descent, though Megha hails from a wealthy family while Nayan had a far less privileged upbringing.The campaign escalates to a heated town-hall debate comprising the last act of the novel, in which the left eats itself by pitting identity politics against class solidarity. (Sahota himself has said in an interview that Prime Minister “Rishi Sunak is not my racial friend, he is my class enemy.” This might have been Nayan’s line if the novel were set a few years later, after Sunak’s rise to power, also as a professed change candidate.) Ultimately, the politics become personal, and the descending arc of Nayan’s life steepens.We are having trouble retrieving the article content.Please enable JavaScript in your browser settings.Thank you for your patience while we verify access. If you are in Reader mode please exit and log into your Times account, or subscribe for all of The Times.Thank you for your patience while we verify access.Already a subscriber? Log in.Want all of The Times? Subscribe. More