TNY Weekend Reader: because it’s gonna rain
Who am I kidding? I’ll be doing my reading at the laundromat. (Image: carolita johnson)
Martin Amis’ The Last Days of Muhammad Atta, The New Yorker’s Fiction in the Journey’s issue this week, will make sure you never think of Muhammed Atta’s pelvic saddle, scrotum, or “breath that smells like a blighted river” the same way.
Ever.
Again.
In case of overdose, go straight for the antidote: Jonathan Stern’s Shouts & Murmurs piece, “The Lonely Planet Guide To My Apartment.”
Here’s a small sample, taken from “Local Customs”:
The population of My Apartment has a daily ritual of bitching, which occurs at the end of the workday and prior to ordering in food. Usually, meals are taken during reruns of “Stargate Atlantis.†Don’t be put off by impulsive sobbing or unprovoked rages. These traits have been passed down through generations and are part of the colorful heritage of My Apartment’s people. The annual Birthday Meltdown (see “Festivalsâ€) is a tour de force of recrimination and self-loathing, highlighted by fanciful stilt-walkers and dancers wearing hand-sewn headdresses.
And to balance yourself with a dose of reality after this fanciful traipse through a New Yorker’s life, read David Remnick’s review of Al Gore’s movie, “An Inconvenient Truth,” in “Ozone Man.”
