August 1, 2011 issue, completed July 30, 2012

Again, not that much that I found compelling in this issue, although the photos of some of the personalities involved in the Egyptian revolution were quite arresting. The article about refugee applicants (in the States I guess they are referred to as asylum applicants) was notable for its honesty - I think if someone like my mother, who thinks most refugee claimants are likely liars trying to play the system, were to read it she would think that it vindicated her opinion quite well. On the other hand, as the writer observes towards the end, their lives are usually frought with perils at home, and the main reason that they lie to embellish their horror stories is because such drama is expected of them. Those of us lucky enough to be born into a free society (and many of us among those even luckier, to be born in a position of privilege) are not really qualified to judge the degree of wretchedness of other people's lives that is required for refugee admission into this country (or the USA), however.

One thing I must mention, since it is so exceedingly rare in the New Yorker: they spelled Steve Carell's surname wrong in the review of "Crazy, Stupid, Love" in the Movie Review section (sorry, The Current Cinema). Not once like a typo, but three times, including the caption under the illustration. Shocking lack of attention to detail, New Yorker!!

July 25, 2011 issue, completed July 29, 2012

There wasn't anything that really stood out in this issue, but nevertheless I ended up reading almost all of it. Considering that I am now yet again more than one year behind, I must have found each article compelling enough not to yield to the pressure to skip it. The article about tiny houses reminded me of my childhood desire to have a home of one's own, whether it be a playhouse or a perfect, proper little real house. There was such a little guest house at a farm we had when I was a kid and I loved playing in it. Recently my 6-year-old daughter and I were in a shopping mall when she saw a display of tents. She ran right into the biggest one and asked if she could buy it. Before I could answer she read the price and started calculating how long it would take to save her allowance to be able to buy it. I realized that the desire to have your own little roof over your head is one she shares as well. I had thought the article would be about living in smaller dwellings in order to be located close to downtown and thereby avoid commuting to suburbs, something that is becoming popular in cities like Vancouver, but it was more about some kind of forced asceticism of living small. While I don't really get the appeal for adults, I do think that if I had heard of the possibility of ordering a tiny house when I was a child, I would have chosen the one I wanted and started calculating ways that I could afford the fifty-four thousand dollars or whatever the cost was to be.

July 11 & 18 issue, completed July 17, 2012

OK, back on track with this double issue! David Sedaris: hilarious as usual. Just writes the things that we all think we experience them (in this instance, reading language guides), but somehow writes them in a way that is so universally funny. I got to see his comedy show live a couple of years ago here and it was the first time in a long time I had laughed till it hurt at a show. I had read many of the pieces that he read aloud from past New Yorkers and yet when he read them, they were fresh and funny all over again. And rather than stifling a quiet giggle while reading his words on the subway or in a coffee shop, we could laugh out loud in the theatre among friends.

I was eager to read the profile on Sheryl Sandberg in this issue, as I have admired her for a long time. However either the profile didn't really scratch the surface or she is not as profound a person as I had believed. I was looking for more depth about the career vs. mom issue, but it was kind of glossed over. Her only advice seemed to be to a) find the perfect husband and b) be in the job you want before having kids. Not really useful day-to-day juggling advice, if you ask me. One time in Gwyneth Paltrow's e-newsletter GOOP I read some advice from a mutual friend of theirs (Gwyneth's and Sheryl's) who worked for a VC in California and who had some great tips for the mom working full time who still did "the school run" (as GP puts it). Now SHE would be a good person to profile. Though I suppose as she is not the COO of Facebook, she would not be as interesting to the average New Yorker reader.

The article about technology guru Jaron Lanier was far more thought-provoking. First of all, anyone who could become as self-actualized and successful as he has with that weird of a childhood deserves a ton of props. Second, his insights about technology were very interesting to read. People can and do get too wrapped up in virtual worlds, such as social networks. Last week a tragic story was in the news about a man who was going through a nasty divorce. He and his soon to be ex traded barbs about each other on Facebook. In the middle were two kids aged 9 and 13. One day the bodies of the father and the two children were found burned to death in a fire in his garage. The mother's postings on Facebook were basically as follows: "Fire on my ex's street - hope everything is OK." "The police are coming to my door..." "My ex has killed my children." I mean, SERIOUSLY? Your whole life has come crashing down around you and you are posting these updates on Facebook? I could never relate to that. And I'm glad to see that some of the people who helped dream up the technology can't either.

The article on the Rwandan cyclists was also entertaining. I have been reading Gourevitch's reports from and about Rwanda for years now it seems and they are always so effective at painting a picture of a country, and a society, whose existence after the genocide of 1994 is nothing short of a miracle. That the country could still even be on the map is amazing in itself; that people have gotten on with their lives, and that feel-good stories such as this one about a cycling Team Rwanda are taking place, is truly inspiring.

July 4 issue, completed July 15, 2012

So here we are again, more than a year behind on the New Yorker and more than three months into the project. No ground gained, and in fact, about a month of ground lost. How to explain this sad state of affairs? Doing so requires some uncomfortable introspection. First, school ended, thereby taking away a big part of what keeps me busy and therefore gives me a sense of value. I have been struggling with my self-worth ever since stopping full-time work last August. Although on the face of it I know that being a stay-at-home mom is a very valuable thing, just  knowing that a stranger isn't paying me for my contribution to something has preyed on my self-esteem, more than I would probably admit to anyone I know. I don't mean to present this as an excuse, but the lack of direction did kind of drag me down and away from the things I enjoy, including working out, reading, and writing. Since reading the New Yorker and treadmill running used to be simultaneous activities, with one gone so went the other. In the past week or so I have snapped out of it and hereby pledge to renew my commitment to the project with more fervour and intensity.

This issue sat at the bottom of my purse for weeks. When I finally did get around to reading it, the article about the Chinese personality Han Han had the greatest impact. The dating services article was interesting, but Han was way more thought-provoking. How had he dared and succeeded to make his name as a creative and political force in a country as repressive as China? And what holds me back from making an effort to put my creative ideas out there, when I live in one of the most open and permissive societies in the world?

June 27 issue, completed June 6, 2012

Again, the story by Alice Munro, "Gravel," which tells the story of the death of a child from the point of view of her sibling, affected me the most profoundly in this issue. I find Munro to be an extraordinarily moving writer. It almost makes me want to pack up writing before I even begin, as I can't imagine ever being as good a storyteller as she is. However, I have come to appreciate that writing is not about being better or not as good as someone else, but rather, just having something to say and a will to express it. Not knowing how it will affect a reader, if it has one, is part of the thrill and the scariness of putting it out there. It is so much easier to doubt and to dismiss one's abilities than it is to actually try. So, I'm trying.

Also, I finished this story on my way back from New York where I had the fun experience of trying out for Jeopardy!. Who knows if they will ever call, but just being asked to try out was exciting. It felt amazing to be in a room where you truly sensed that everyone else in the room was at least as smart, as curious about the world, as engaged as you are, if not far more so. Of the 19 of us auditioning during that session, there were perhaps only two who, while not lacking in knowledge or intelligence, might not have had the personalities that would make them a great fit for the show. The rest of them were amazing. I truly have no idea how I stacked up in comparison to them. All I know for sure is: I was the only Canadian.

June 13 & 20 issue, completed May 30, 2012

It was hard to find the time to write about this issue. It was also something that I delayed because I was so profoundly affected by the article entitled "The Aquarium," which was about the death of a child. The author tried to channel his pain at losing his baby girl to cancer by placing a focus on the way his other, older daughter (who was just shy of three years old) experienced the tragedy. Within just 100 days of receiving the diagnosis that their baby had a rare form of cancer, she was dead. It was absolutely devastating to read. Every parent's nightmare.

Shortly after I finished this magazine, friends of friends whom I do not know were woken up in their bed by their 4-year-old and their 2-year-old who told them that their 3-month-old brother, also in the bed, wasn't moving. He had died during the night, presumably of SIDS. The horror of losing a child is something that I think about fairly often and this case, happening to a family that could easily have been mine, was painful to think about. Always the instinct is to rage that this should not be the way it happens - that yes, we are all prepared to accept the sad but inevitable day when we will bury our parents, but no, it should never be that we should have to accept the task of burying a child. We had them, after all, to replace us.  

The two stories forced the unpleasant contemplation of which was worse - watching your child suffer and die over the course of just a few months, always holding out that slim hope that she might survive, or just waking up one day and finding him dead with no warning, out of the blue. I think that the shock of the latter would still be better than watching the horrible, senseless suffering of the former. Although you could never understand why your child was taken from you so suddenly, at least the death was peaceful without much suffering. The absolute worst situation would have to be a sudden death where you know your child suffered and/or was in agony. Such as would be the case with an accident, or abduction and murder of a child.

Not really the kinds of things you want to think about when reading a magazine presumably for entertainment, but there it is. And now that I've written about it, perhaps I can move along with this project. It was stalled for a long time as I hesitated to write about this difficult topic.