Word: parachuteã
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...relic. A slender addendum to McPhee’s two previous collections of personal essays and literary journalism, this book evokes a rapidly fading epoch in which compendia of previously published works (not to mention books in general) could still turn a profit. Indeed, “Silk Parachute?? often feels as though it was rushed to press too quickly. The highlight of the book, “Spin Right and Shoot Left,” which examines the history and current state of lacrosse, was published in “The New Yorker” less than...
Compare the essays of “Silk Parachute?? to those of McPhee’s “New Yorker” colleague, Malcolm Gladwell: although the writers share an interest in people, their processes are polar opposites. McPhee starts with a detailed discussion of a topic, be it “eccentric food” or Europe’s chalk country, and allows his topic to elucidate a truism about society with such finesse that it seems accidental. Rather than spend pages reveling in the significance of what he has found—like Gladwell?...
McPhee’s obsession with setting hints at the true significance of “Silk Parachute??: collected, these essays reveal not only a stunning attention to detail, but also the degree to which McPhee is steeped in the world in which he was raised—the intellectual scene of the American Northeast. When he writes that “Los Angeles might as well be Tokyo” in the East Coast-centered world of lacrosse, he could easily be talking about himself; his entire oeuvre could well be seen as an unsuccessful attempt...
...most resonant piece in “Silk Parachute?? can be easy to overlook. Near the end of the book, seemingly an afterthought to the fact-heavy pieces that precede it, “Checkpoints” explores the process of fact-checking at “The New Yorker.” The essay is a triumph of form, weaving together a broad swath of anecdotes and characters without feeling like what it is: a hodgepodge. But more importantly, it offers something unusual and valuable—a clean and frank description of the toil of writing...
...capping off four months of Durkheim and Tocqueville with a failing grade on my transcript. Perhaps I was distracted by the mire of bureaucracy that switching concentrations entailed. Nonetheless, I take full responsibility for my incompetence. What baffles me, however, is the fact that my advising “parachute?? never opened above...