More stories

  • in

    Naval Academy Censors Ryan Holiday’s Lecture on Censorship

    For the past four years, I have been delivering a series of lectures on the virtues of Stoicism to midshipmen at the U.S. Naval Academy in Annapolis, Md., and I was supposed to continue this on April 14 to the entire sophomore class on the theme of wisdom.Roughly an hour before my talk was to begin, I received a call: Would I refrain from any mention in my remarks of the recent removal of 381 supposedly controversial books from the Nimitz library on campus? My slides had been sent up the chain of command at the school, which was now, as it was explained to me, extremely worried about reprisals if my talk appeared to flout Executive Order 14151 (“Ending Radical and Wasteful Government D.E.I. Programs and Preferencing.”)When I declined, my lecture — as well as a planned speech before the Navy football team, with whom my books on Stoicism are popular was canceled. (The academy “made a schedule change that aligns with its mission of preparing midshipmen for careers of service,” a Navy spokesperson told Times Opinion. “The Naval Academy is an apolitical institution.”)Had I been allowed to go ahead, this is the story I was going to tell the class:In the fall of 1961, a young naval officer named James Stockdale, a graduate of the Naval Academy and future Medal of Honor recipient who went on to be a vice admiral, began a course at Stanford he had eagerly anticipated on Marxist theory. “We read no criticisms of Marxism,” he recounted later, “only primary sources. All year we read the works of Marx and Lenin.”It might seem unusual that the Navy would send Stockdale, then a 36-year-old fighter pilot, to get a master’s degree in the social sciences, but he knew why he was there. Writing home to his parents that year, he reminded them of a lesson they had instilled in him, “You really can’t do well competing against something you don’t understand as well as something you can.”At the time, Marxism was not just an abstract academic subject, but the ideological foundation of America’s greatest geopolitical enemy. The stakes were high. The Soviets were pushing a vision of global Communism and the conflict in Vietnam was flashing hot, the North Vietnamese fueled by a ruthless mix of dogma and revolutionary zeal. “Marxism” was, like today, also a culture war boogeyman used by politicians and demagogues.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

  • in

    Mario Vargas Llosa, Nobel-Winning Peruvian Novelist, Dies at 89

    Mr. Vargas Llosa, who ran for Peru’s presidency in 1990 and won the Nobel Prize in Literature in 2010, transformed episodes from his personal life into books that reverberated far beyond the borders of his native country.Mario Vargas Llosa, the Peruvian novelist who combined gritty realism with playful erotica and depictions of the struggle for individual liberty in Latin America, while also writing essays that made him one of the most influential political commentators in the Spanish-speaking world, died on Sunday in Lima. He was 89.His death was announced in a social media statement from his children, Álvaro, Gonzalo and Morgana Vargas Llosa.Mr. Vargas Llosa, who won the Nobel Prize in Literature in 2010, gained renown as a young writer with slangy, blistering visions of the corruption, moral compromises and cruelty festering in Peru. He joined a cohort of writers like Gabriel García Márquez of Colombia and Julio Cortázar of Argentina, who became famous in the 1960s as members of Latin America’s literary “boom generation.”His distaste for the norms of polite society in Peru gave him abundant inspiration. After he was enrolled at the age of 14 in the Leoncio Prado Military Academy in Lima, Mr. Vargas Llosa turned that experience into his first novel, “The Time of the Hero,” a critical account of military life published in 1963.The book was denounced by several generals, including one who claimed it was financed by Ecuador to undermine Peru’s military — all of which helped make it an immediate success.Mr. Vargas Llosa was never fully enamored, however, by his contemporaries’ magical realism. And he was disillusioned with Fidel Castro’s persecution of dissidents in Cuba, breaking from the leftist ideology that held sway for decades over many writers in Latin America.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

  • in

    Mario Vargas Llosa: An Appreciation

    The Peruvian author Mario Vargas Llosa was the world’s savviest and most accomplished political novelist.Once upon a time, during the last quarter of the 20th century, it was possible to argue that one person was America’s best novelist and best literary critic. I am talking about John Updike, whose long and elegant reviews in The New Yorker set reading agendas.Such was Updike’s influence that readers paid heed when, in the mid-1980s, he developed a sustained literary man-crush on the Peruvian writer Mario Vargas Llosa, who died on Sunday at 89.More than once in his reviews of Vargas Llosa’s novels, Updike took note of the author’s handsomeness and urbanity. He was more impressed by Vargas Llosa’s substantial intelligence, his learning, his versatility and his imagination, which could conjure the comic fussiness of a tiny left-wing splinter group in solemn session, or the nauseated feelings of a young wife who discovers that her husband is gay, or the mixed feelings of a citified idealist engaging in a gun battle in the Andes while beset with altitude sickness.Vargas Llosa “has replaced Gabriel García Márquez” as the South American novelist North American readers must catch up on, Updike wrote in 1986, four years after García Márquez received the Nobel Prize in Literature and 24 years before Vargas Llosa himself would.Even Updike was two decades late to the writer’s work. Vargas Llosa had already published most of his major and enduring novels, including “The Time of the Hero” (1963), “The Green House” (1966), “Conversation in the Cathedral” (1969) and “The War of the End of the World” (1981). These grainy, raunchy, politically minded and mind-expanding books found a worldwide audience but were slower to catch on in the United States.Vargas Llosa had helped start, in the early 1960s, a movement that became known as the Boom, a term applied to a freewheeling and socially conscious new generation of Latin American writers: García Márquez, Carlos Fuentes, Julio Cortázar, Juan Rulfo, Guillermo Cabrera Infante, José Donoso and Miguel Ángel Asturias, among others.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

  • in

    How to Be a Happy 85-Year-Old (Like Me)

    In 2000, I published a book called “Rules for Aging,” a sort of how-to guide for navigating the later years of one’s life. I was 60 at the time and thought that I knew a thing or two about being old. Twenty-five years later, I just finished a sequel, which reflects my advice for growing very, very old. (I have been doing a lot of that lately.) It took me 85 years to learn these things, but I believe they’re applicable at any age.1. Nobody’s thinking about you.It was true 25 years ago, and it’s true today. Nobody is thinking about you. Nobody ever will. Not your teacher, not your minister, not your colleagues, not your shrink, not a soul. It can be a bummer of a thought. But it’s also liberating. That time you fell on your butt in public? That dumb comment you made at dinner last week? That brilliant book you wrote? No one is thinking about it. Others are thinking about themselves. Just like you.2. Make young friends.For older folks, there is nothing more energizing than the company of the young. They’re bright, enthusiastic, informative and brimming with life, and they do not know when you’re telling them lies.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

  • in

    I’ve Listened to ‘The Great Gatsby’ 200 Times. Here’s What I Learned.

    “The Great Gatsby” turned 100 this week. Probably, like me, you first read it in high school. My true engagement with the novel, though, began five years ago, when I was in my 50s and a writer and college teacher, and I started listening to a portion of the “Gatsby” audiobook every night.I started on March 17, 2020, which was the day the province of Ontario, where I live, declared a state of emergency because of Covid. My wife and I had listened to Jake Gyllenhaal’s rendition of “Gatsby” during a 2015 road trip, liked it and thought it would be a diverting bedtime story to get us through the lockdown, which we expected to last about three or four weeks. We set a sleep timer, pressed “play” and listened for 45 minutes, and the lockdown wound up lasting nearly two years.“Gatsby” for me has grown from a novel bedtime story to a nightly ritual to a kind of compulsion. It’s hard for us to imagine going to bed now without the compelling timbre of Mr. Gyllenhaal in our ears. In 2023 alone, I listened to “Gatsby,” which runs in its entirety for 289 minutes, just over 48 times. I broke that record in 2024 when I stopped setting the sleep timer and began listening to the entire book overnight, letting it unspool into my ears while I slept. “Gatsby” has now laid down roots in my brain — even into my dreams. In a way, that’s not just true of me but of the entire culture.The literary critic Maureen Corrigan once wrote that “Gatsby” contains some of “the most beautiful sentences ever written about America,” and it persists as a book that is nearly “perfect despite the fact that it goes against every expectation of what a Great American Novel should be.”Not only has it inspired at least five movies, an opera and a Broadway musical, “Gatsby” also has a habit of popping up in the strangest places: When the comedian Andy Kaufman wanted to subvert his stand-up by reading from a novel onstage, including on an episode of “Saturday Night Live,” he chose to read from “The Great Gatsby.” His prank inspired the New York-based experimental theater company Elevator Repair Service to create “Gatz” in 2004, a six-and-a-half-hour performance that involves actors reciting the entire book, word for word. And, yes, I’ve seen “Gatz.” Twice.There is a certain look I get when I tell people about my “Gatsby” ritual — call it “curious concern.” If I explain that during Covid I started listening to “Gatsby” as a comfort before bed — and have been listening to it almost every night since — I can hear how strange these words sound even as they trip out of my mouth. Who chooses as a ritual bedtime story a bittersweet novel that ends with a murder-suicide (preceded by a fatal car crash) in which no one finds love and the only character who ends up close to happy is a violent racist and a serial cheat? Maybe “Pride and Prejudice” would be a more acceptable obsession. It’s also a masterpiece and it has a happy ending. But only “Gatsby” can hold my attention. By now, I’m steeped in it.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

  • in

    Book Review: ‘The Gate, the Girl and the Dragon,’ by Grace Lin

    THE GATE, THE GIRL AND THE DRAGON, by Grace LinFall into a hole and thump into Wonderland. Open a wardrobe and step into Narnia. Board a train on Platform 9¾ and end up at Hogwarts. Crossing thresholds comes naturally to children, which is one of the reasons middle grade fantasy is so popular. The quests are timeless.Cue Grace Lin, whose latest novel, “The Gate, the Girl and the Dragon,” embraces this trope as well. Her setting is a bustling urban center, in the middle of which stands the Old City Gate. Passing through it is uneventful for humans (aside from entering a neighborhood filled with dangling red lanterns and traditional foods and crafts), but for a group of mythical creatures called Gongshi, it’s the only way back to their realm of grasslands, rivers and mountains.Gongshi are lively and fun-loving, but once they’re in the modern world they manifest as stone, standing silent and still. They hide in plain sight in the form of statues, highway pillars and necklace pendants. Lifeless to the human eye, they watch over the city’s populace and protect them from danger. All Gongshi take their job seriously — except for one.Lin’s main character, Jin, is a Gongshi lion cub who would rather play with his friends than play guardian. Early in the book, he becomes angry at his father and accidentally knocks over the Sacred Sphere, a golden ball that is never to be moved. As it bounces out of the house and through the Old City Gate, Jin chases after it, trying desperately to catch it. But he fails, and the gate clangs shut behind him. Jin is now stuck on the wrong side. Will the impetuous cub ever see his parents again?From “The Gate, the Girl and the Dragon.”Grace LinFor the remaining 300 pages, Jin is on a quest to reopen the gate and return home, an adventure that’s both physically and emotionally taxing. Along the way he meets a girl, a sculptor and a dragon who takes the shape of a worm — not all of whom he can trust. Meanwhile, the other Gongshi spend several chapters also trying to reopen the gate, in hopes of rescuing Jin and retrieving the Sacred Sphere.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

  • in

    Test Yourself on the History of How Books Were Made

    Welcome to Lit Trivia, the Book Review’s regular quiz about literary culture. This week’s installment tests your knowledge of the global evolution of books themselves. In the five multiple-choice questions below, tap or click on the answer you think is correct. After the last question, you’ll find links to further reading on the topic. More

  • in

    2 Books to Keep You Pleasantly Diverted

    A collection of autobiographical sketches; a complicated Japanese mystery.Archive Photos/Moviepix, via Getty ImagesDear readers,There’s a movie house here in New York that, on Sundays, shows a series of revivals appropriate for kids, complete with booster seats. My 5-year-old and I go often, and, a few months ago, went to see the 1944 musical “Meet Me in St. Louis.” We were having a lovely time watching the Technicolor evocation of 1903 St. Louis, and Judy Garland asking us to meet her at the fair and pining for the boy next door, when an old man in the row behind us hissed, loudly, “JUMP HIS BONES!” He continued to repeat this exhortation whenever the teenage characters of Esther and John Truett had a scene together. The kids in attendance seemed confused, but mercifully uncomprehending.I came home bursting with our adventures, but also eager to reread the Sally Benson book on which the musical was based. And, accordingly, next time I had access to my boxes at my parents’ house, I dug out my paperback.—Sadie“Meet Me in St. Louis,” by Sally BensonFiction, 1942Benson was known as a short story writer; both this book and her collection “Junior Miss” were composed mostly of stories she’d published in The New Yorker. Originally, the semi-autobiographical sketches gathered here — about growing up in a large St. Louis family — appeared between 1941 and 1942, as a series she called “5135 Kensington.” But by the time the book was published, the MGM adaptation was already underway, and Benson changed her title to match theirs. She also added four new vignettes, and structured the book as a year in the life of the Smith family.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