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Omnivore

Democracy in the European crisis

From Vox Matthew Yglesias on 9 facts about the Eurozone crisis. Europe’s slide toward deflation amounts to a “betrayal” of Southern Europe — this sounds over the top, but it is the simple truth. Clark Boyd on why Greek voters bucked Europe, backed an anti-austerity party. After Syriza’s victory, confrontation or capitulation. Pro tip for the Eurozone: Give Greece's Syriza what it wants. Peter Hain on how we should all say “no” to neoliberalism, not just Greece (and more). Margot E. Salomon (LSE):


Paper Trail

At Spiegel, New York Times executive editor Dean Baquet says the paper largely “failed” readers in the post-9/11 years, explains why the paper declined to run cartoons of Muhammad during the Charlie Hebdo story, and argues that the next Edward Snowden should bring his story to the Times, since the paper has the “guts” to

Syllabi

Andre Dubus's best characters

Bibi DeitzAndre Dubus's literary superpower is to hit upon that one thing about a character that makes him him, or her her. And in so doing, with subtle, clever details—breadcrumbs on the trail to the nucleus

Daily Review

Paul Thomas Anderson’s “Inherent Vice”

“Paranoids are not paranoid because they’re paranoid,” Thomas Pynchon wrote in Gravity’s Rainbow, “but because they keep putting themselves, fucking idiots, deliberately into paranoid situations.” This line could easily slot into a eulogy for Larry “Doc” Sportello, the “gumsandal” hippie private eye at the heart of Inherent Vice, Pynchon’s seventh novel, recently adapted for the

Interviews

Miranda July

In Miranda July's films and short stories, the protagonist is usually shut off from the world: insular, habit-prone, and to the outside world, a little weird, The beauty of Cheryl Glickman, the narrator of July's debut novel, The First Bad Man, is that she's come to see her idiosyncrasies as totally logical, After reading several pages of Cheryl's chatty internal monologue, the reader will, too.

Appreciation

On Cortázar

Becca Rothfeld

Reading Hopscotch—reading Julio Cortázar—is a bit like navigating a labyrinth. Behind each corner, each chapter doubling back on itself, lurks the prospect of an unforeseen encounter, at once disturbing and tantalizing. Distances are distorted. Ostensible shortcuts will lead you on a scenic route that provides alternate, unexpected perspectives. All the while, Cortázar’s work invokes a sort of Zeno’s Paradox.

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