For newcomers, there is a bookclub FAQ if you have questions about how it all works. And this is what we will be reading for the rest of the year. We’re partnering with the lovely people at Allstora for the Audacious Book Club. Now, you can sign up to have the monthly selections delivered to your doorstep each month! Otherwise, I’ve put together an Audacious Book Club storefront if you want to buy current or forthcoming book club titles.

Subscribe now

THE NEWSLETTER WEEK IN REVIEW

PERSONAL & PROFESSIONAL NEWS

I wrote about Ed Sheeran and the politics of self-interest.

I appeared on Megan Rapinoe’s new podcast!

On October 6, at the Schomburg Center in NYC, you will find me in conversation with Jenn Jacksom, Mikki Kendall and Loretta Loss. The event is free and you can register here.

Book and project links: Books I’ve Written, RGB Imprint Titles, Rebind: The Age of Innocence by Edith Wharton; The Forgotten Occupation.

READING MATERIAL

CNN, MS Now, and Politico have been banned from the White House, they are suing the administration, and other major news outlets are refusing to cover the White House in solidarity.

The president can’t interfere with mail-in ballots. He also remains hellbent on destroying the Kennedy Center.

The states suing Paramount caved and now, another billionaire is getting his way to ruin more things.

Mayor Mamdani is continuing to be excellent. This time, public bathrooms!

The Sussexes have moved their children to a new school after only a few days. Safety first!

Tierra Walker’s family is, rightfully, suing Ken Paxton for allowing her to die.

Nikole Hannah-Jones wrote an interesting, complex essay about the decisions she made for her child’s schooling, how those decisions may have been wrong, the systemic problems facing public education and how challenging it is for Black children to be properly educated in a racist country.

In Cuba, more blackouts as their power infrastructure collapses.

This one time, a man broke into a house and the resident dog wanted to play with him.

Macklemore was dropped as Ed Sheeran’s opening act because Sheeran was facing pressure from billionaire stadium owners so the rest of the opening acts left the tour including his band. Then Sheeran made a statement using a teleprompter. Very sincere.

A lengthy profile of Mark Zuckerberg.

An appreciation of the group chat.

Horse people drama!

Remember that lady who shit herself during the Hyrox race? Now Hyrox, after several blunders, is changing the rules. Like… this has to be said? Yes. It has to be said. Also, why are we so competitive?

In Fiji, there is an HIV emergency.

RIP Bob Mackie. who I did not realize was still alive. RIP Annie Dillard, an extraordinary writer. Here is her essay Total Eclipse. RIP Duncan Sheik., so young RIP Bonnie Greer. RIP Presley Gerber. RIP Cat Frazier.

(Straight) men don’t have friends and are expecting their lady friends, girlfriends and wives to curate their social lives. Now, I do enjoy having Debbie be the more socially forward one but I do also have friends!

People are seemingly losing the ability to have functional, mutual conversations.

I’m married to a rising eclipse chaser so I read this profile of eclipse chasers with great interest.

Another day, another porn-ified Sydney Sweeney ad. She has certainly found her lane! I don’t even care. When you know what your best assets are, you exploit them or allow them to be exploited until they expire.

Football news: Mbappé is no longer going to just do it with Nike!

In the different football news, Joe Buck signed a new contract work $100 million.

There was a Converse ad that maybe harkened to lynching imagery.

This was a fairly inevitable outcome of the proliferation of GLP-1s.

Lena Dunham and her husband have welcomed a little baby into the world. She has, of course, written about it, for Vogue.

The U.S. beat France in the FIBA World Cup.

The Power of No by Anna Holmes, is out now!

An interview with RuthAnn Harnisch, our Rumpus co-publisher, journalist, journalism philanthropist and so much more.

Angelina Jolie interviews Salma Hayek. And a conversation with Emily St. John Mandel.

This will likely come as no surprise but Americans and especially women are very tired. (Accurate.)

Succession: Omaha.

An interesting analysis of Furious, a show I highly recommend.

Has breakfast cereal become dessert?

A portrait of Mumbai as the planet continues to warm.

In Japan, there are now more than 100,000 people who are older than 100. That’s kind of incredible. I don’t think I want to linger that long unless I become a vampire.

The Haitian club team Violette AC is doing very well.

Might as well face it, this guy is addicted to school.

A consideration of Taryn Simon’s new Guggenheim show.

In an age of artifice, you can even pretend shop.

Here are this year’s Emmy winners. John Mulaney was hilarious and Detective Olivia Benson was a marvelous host.

Talk about a crossover episode, Jalen Brunson is going to be on SVU!

The best TV shows of the century, thus far.

THE RUMPUS THIS WEEK

Essays:

Synthetic Heaven by Tina Huang
You Won’t Hear This by Lydia Mathis

Fiction:

The Dumbbell by Luke Sutherland
Off The Books by Ausiàs Tsel

Poetry:

Two Poems by A.R. Zarif
Incantations for a Migrant’s Journey by Gbolahan Badmus

Interviews:

A Conversation with Emily St. John Mandel by Kelsey Erin Shipman
A Conversation with María Elena Morán by Annell López

Columns:

Books That Made Me Gay: “The Group” by Mary McCarthy by Tess McGeer

Criticism:

A Pair of Death Trips by Narciso Novogratz

Culture:

Susan Howe: Music Until Proven Otherwise by David Grubbs

Other:

Embroidered Art: Diana Weymar on Andrea Gibson by Diana Weymar

Subscribe now

When your husband asks you to make him a birthday cake, say, “Okay, sure, what kind?”

When he shows you a recipe of a four-layer confection, cheesecakes alternating strawberry cakes, topped with store-bought buttercream and crushed golden sandwich cookies—half dyed red, half left golden, resembling the coating of strawberry shortcake ice cream bars—realize you can do better. It doesn’t have berries, this recipe, just artificially flavored gelatin.

Google strawberry sugar cookie recipes. Find the best, then recipes for strawberry cake, tangy strawberry cream cheese frosting, and graham cracker cheesecake crust. Tinker with the given measurements so nothing is too sugary, but tastes fresh, sweet, and tart. When he returns from work Thursday evening and says you hurt his feelings not wishing him a happy birthday as people on Facebook did, apologize. Explain you’re so focused on Saturday, the day of his party, that you forgot today’s the eighth. Say, “Happy Birthday.”

He knows you’re spending three days on this cake, baking cookies after making dinner tonight and cheesecakes tomorrow evening, up early Saturday to bake strawberry cakes, everything prepared by afternoon when guests arrive. Guests he didn’t want to invite. Even after he agreed with your insistence because that’s so much cake, he didn’t want to say it was for his birthday, didn’t want them to feel obligated to come, though you just had a house full of sailors for Thanksgiving last month. You didn’t want the obligation of cooking for a large crowd but still, you did it.

He did nothing for your birthday three months ago. You hinted for weeks you wanted cake. Showed him bakeries on Yelp. The day of, he asked what you wanted to do. You wanted him to cook. He used to make you steak and lobster. He said, “Let’s order takeout instead.”

He drove you to Whole Foods to pick a cake from the display case after you begged.

Keep your cool. Preheat the oven to 350°F. Line a cookie sheet with parchment paper. Purée macerated organic strawberries from the farmer’s market; beat organic cane sugar and Irish butter with an electric mixer; beat eggs in from local pasture raised hens, their yolks the golden orange of marigolds declaring their health. Fold in the strawberries; stir flour, pure Madagascar vanilla extract, baking powder, and pink Himalayan salt into the mixture, forming dough. Place balls of dough on the cookie sheet. Flatten and bake them. With the strawberry sugar cookies cooling on paper towels, the oven turned off, and the house quiet, fall asleep on the sofa.

On Friday, pulse organic graham crackers in the food processor until they are like sand. Mix them with brown sugar and melted salted butter and add the crumb mixture to a 9-inch springform pan covered in coconut oil, pressing it into the bottom and up the sides. Bake at 350°F for five minutes. Leave the oven on. Place cream cheese softened to room temperature in a mixing bowl with cornstarch and organic heavy whipping cream, using an electric mixer until it is silky. Whisk in eggs, also room temperature, one at a time, then fold in vanilla and sugar.

Grease a 9-inch round cake pan with coconut oil and line it with parchment paper. Pour in three cups of cheesecake batter and place it on a rimmed sheet pan filled with 1 ½ cups of water. Pour the remaining cheesecake batter into the springform pan with the cooled crust, smoothing it. Put both cheesecakes into the oven on separate racks. Bake for half an hour. Remove and cool completely, gradually, on the stovetop before covering with foil and chilling overnight. Abrupt temperature change can cause cracks.

Saturday morning, preheat the oven, 350°F, and grease two round cake pans with coconut oil. In a large bowl, combine a box of organic white cake mix you searched several health foods stores to find with a packet of strawberry gelatin. Add puréed macerated strawberries, four eggs at room temperature, sunflower oil, and organic whole milk, beating at medium speed with an electric mixer. Your mother made a similar cake for your birthday each year, a boxed white cake mix and strawberry gelatin and frozen strawberries in syrup the main ingredients. The buttercream frosting was homemade, with strawberries too, vibrantly pink like the cake. Strawberry Dream Cake, she called it. She made it in a 9x13 pan with a sliding metal lid, kept in the fridge, cut into cold squares so sweet, the sweetest thing she did for you.

You turned thirteen the last year she made it, the year you tried to take your life because she took your music. Music was your greatest love, and though your mother punished you for dancing whenever her drug friends visited, beating you on your bare ass with a leather belt and its metal buckle for performing in front of her company, you could dance privately in your room every day that wasn’t the day of your birthday party, when the company was yours, and you could be the center of attention—pleasure without pain—but she did not like your rock music. She said it was making you depressed, making you embrace darkness and death, though it was the only thing keeping you alive. She gave the music back but never made cake for her gloomy daughter again.

One of your earliest memories is her making Strawberry Dream Cake, stopping to go pee, the tin of frozen strawberries left on the kitchen table, and you took a little bit, just a bite, but when she came back, oh! How angry she sounded, asking, “Did you eat those strawberries?”

How she beat you, for eating the strawberries and for lying about it. How food scarcity could make your mother scarce, could hollow her out and allow a monster to enter. Before every trip to the grocery store, your mother told you don’t ask for anything, don’t you fucking dare, don’t even look at things you want, we can only afford what’s on the list, can barely afford what’s on the list, might starve to death if we don’t stick to the list. She had money for drugs each week, but food? Food was scarce, hunger a deep physical pang of desire that hurts in the gut and in the heart, because how can anyone go hungry unless no one loves them? Hunger’s what you knew before your husband.

When you moved to Honolulu for your fiancé stationed there, Waikiki had tiki bar Mai Tai’s, and cockroaches big as toddlers’ hands scurrying down sidewalks, the gold sand and indigo sea littered with tourists. Chinatown had everything. A Shinto temple. First Friday bar crawls. Drag queen performances and jazz music. Maneki-neko ‘beckoning cats’ waved mechanical paws. It wasn’t the safest neighborhood, but you felt safe there. It was home. You remember powdery shaved ice, far superior to snow cones, drenched in passionfruit syrup and sweetened condensed milk; purple poi glazed donuts made from taro root; poke bowls of raw fish, pink as a cactus flower, over sticky rice drizzled with rice vinegar; Meli Kalima ‘honey cream’ pineapples with their pale, sweet flesh; and fresh macadamia nut gelato. You drank Thai tea with boba pearls; juiced sugarcane; and mimosas made with guava juice. You inhaled the scent of jasmine rice wafting through the streets, and kalua pork, covered with banana leaves and slow roasted underground.

Divide the cake batter between the two pans and put them in the oven. Bake twenty minutes, or until a toothpick inserted in the center comes out clean. Let them cool for ten minutes, then invert onto wire racks and cool completely.

Pulse strawberry sugar cookies in the food processor in batches until they are large crumbs. They were pale pink, paler than cotton candy before you baked them, now the soft gold of dried flowers. Pulse half with rose-pink food dye gel you ordered to get the right hue. Beautiful. Sprinkle the crumbs on a cookie sheet lined with foil. Bake ten minutes to crisp them a bit. Cool them.

Next, strawberry cream cheese frosting. Your mother used Crisco and powdered sugar. You loved it as a child but now want something less cloying. Beat cream cheese softened to room temperature at medium speed. Add sugar and mix on low. Fold in puréed macerated strawberries. Add heavy cream a little at a time, whipping until thick. It is the same stunning shade of peony petals your mother’s frosting was. It tastes heavenly. Your mother’s tin of frozen strawberries had thawed that day, had been ruby red and juicy in their syrup, had been necessary for the flavor and the rosy shade of the cake.

One night when you were three years old, your mother put you on the back doorstep and locked the door, just a few minutes, just enough to scare you. Another time, she packed a bag of your clothes and drove to an orphanage. It had a playground like your preschool.

“Get out,” she said. “Go knock on that door and tell them to take you.”

When you begged her not to leave, and promised you would be good, she drove you home but threatened to abandon you the rest of your childhood.

You thought you found security with your husband. You were on stage when you met, dancing to Marilyn Manson’s ‘Heart-Shaped Glasses’ when he approached the tip rail with money and a stoic expression. That was what you first noticed—how joyless he looked, not as if he did not want to be there, but as if he did not know how to be anywhere. Afterward, you sat at the bar by yourself, which is how you got men to approach you in a room full of women approaching men. He asked to buy you a drink and talk with you about music. He confessed: he stopped mid-conversation, looking at the stage because he liked the song, but tipped because your smile. You were so happy up there, performing to your music.

“You’re not like other strippers,” he said.

They all said that, but you played along. “How so?”

“You’re very bubbly.”

“Does that make me the champagne of strippers?”

He rolled his eyes playfully. “I’m gonna pretend you didn’t just say that.”

He was your age, pushing thirty; a sailor in the U.S. Navy wearing an upper sleeve of tattoos—an octopus with tentacles wrapped around an anchor, a sea urchin, a ship with a banner beneath that read Loose Lips, swirls of steam rising above, and nautical stars—mostly hidden beneath his uniform. He came back the next night and bought you out of your shift several hours before closing, which got you much more money than drink commissions or lap dances. He took you to a 24-hour ramen place with his sailor friends. He bought you dinner.

Like you, he wanted to attend art school but couldn’t afford to. His partial scholarship was insufficient, so he joined the military. It seemed to you that both the costs of higher education and living without a degree were a modern-day draft for Americans. “I’m doing my own G.I. Bill,” you said. “The government is funding me through you men.”

That was something he promised you when he proposed marriage—his G.I. Bill. But he changed his mind.

When you slept with him, that night of ramen and beer pong with his friends, it was a thank you to him for not trying to sleep with you. You thought he was a nice guy you would never see again. In hindsight, it was a tactic of his, like you sitting alone at the bar, distinguishing yourself from those with an aggressive approach. His submarine was meant to leave the next morning. It broke down for a week, and he continued to take you out and treat you to brunch, dinner; room service in a hotel at the oceanfront resort. A bottle of Marc Jacobs perfume he saw you eyeing as an early birthday present, and a slice of cake from a bakery, making your day special even though he was leaving right before it.

At last, assemble the cake. Remove the springform from the cheesecake with graham cracker crust but leave it on the pan. Stack a layer of strawberry cake, the crustless cheesecake, and the other layer of strawberry cake atop it. Spread the strawberry cream cheese frosting over the entire thing. Cover it in rose and gold strawberry sugar cookie crumbs so it is perfect. A dream cake.

Next year, when he comes home from deployment right before your birthday announcing he wants a divorce, remember this: you are a provider.

For newcomers, there is a bookclub FAQ if you have questions about how it all works. And this is what we will be reading for the rest of the year. We’re partnering with the lovely people at Allstora for the Audacious Book Club. Now, you can sign up to have the monthly selections delivered to your doorstep each month! Otherwise, I’ve put together an Audacious Book Club storefront if you want to buy current or forthcoming book club titles.

Subscribe now

THE NEWSLETTER WEEK IN REVIEW

PERSONAL & PROFESSIONAL NEWS

Debbie and I were interviewed by the Creative Independent.

If you have Netflix, I’m on Episode 40 of Shut Up Evan.

On September 15th, I will be in conversation with the immensely talented debut author Lydia Mathis at the Center for Fiction. We’ll be talking about her short story collection Desperate Bodies, which I am publishing under Roxane Gay Books.

On October 6, at the Schomburg Center in NYC, you will find me in conversation with Jenn Jacksom, Mikki Kendall and Loretta Loss. The event is free and you can register here.

Book and project links: Books I’ve Written, RGB Imprint Titles, Rebind: The Age of Innocence by Edith Wharton; The Forgotten Occupation.

READING MATERIAL

After a bogus investigation, Ilhan Omar has been cleared of any wrongdoing.

In Mississippi, an arrest in Tasia Fortune’s murder.

The man who did a racism on a plane and got duct-taped to his seat, has lost his job. Consequences are a real thing!

American reading scores are at an all time low (and it shows in increasingly alarming ways).

In the UK, the Bayeux Tapestry is now on display in the British Museum.

An interesting French commercial about xenophobia in France.

A review of Practical Magic 2, which most critics say is not so good. Too much fan service. (Which is fine by me.)

Sort of related: a profile of Alice Hoffman.

This story about Chimamanda Ngozi Adichie and her fractured relationship with Nigeria in the wake of her son’s death is just so sad.

A woman took in a 17-year-old foster child and her life was upended when he attacked her. This was… a haunting read that also gets into the expectations of forgiveness as a burden when you are not ready or willing to forgive.

In Benin, local designers are trying to make the most of the country’s cotton crop.

If you’re a crafter in Brooklyn, the library has some crafty things you can borrow.

Freddie Mercury’s bestie shares some intimacies from their relationship.

As the US Open comes to an end for 2026, Ben Shelton is poised to be an even bigger tennis star.! (Spoiler alert: He lost to Zverev.)

Andre Agassi is super into pickleball these days.

An oldie but goodie—Tyler Perry has no incentive to make good film or TV. Making absolute dreck has made him a billionaire. Yes, I did see Why Did I Get Married Again? It was filmed in four days which is just criminal and, well, it shows. But shout out to the cast for making the most of meager source material.

There’s a new bakery in L.A. from a great croissant maker!

On the lives Jackie Collins imagined for women.

An interesting essay on Wasians (Asian biracial) pop culture figures, identity and the desire for belonging that most people carry.

Tourism is on the rise in Brazil.

Celine Dion is back with a series of concerts in Paris.

Not only is Tatyana Ali going to be on the new season of Dancing With the Stars, she has also become a strong advocate for Black and indigenous maternal health.

Reading parties! TREND ALERT!

Sian Hader won an Oscar which should have opened all the doors in Hollywood but still, making her next movie was an uphill battle.

Also, Zoe Kazan adapted East of Eden and revisited a complex family legacy.

An unpleasant phrase: AI food slop

Princess Di’s “revenge dress” is for sale.

There’s more weird royal drama.

Now you might not believe this but there is this sporty thing called Hyrox that is just… like an intense obstacle course. Anyway, one of the pro atheltes competing at a Hyrox event in Beijing SHIT HERSELF, CONTINUED RACING WITH DIARRHEA ALL OVER HER LGS, WON, and was like, eh, shit happens. True story. Everyone else had to follow in her shitty footsteps.

Sometimes, it’s the little things.

THE RUMPUS WEEK IN REVIEW

Essays:

A Postcard From Dolly by Lauren Hough
God of My Father by Lizz Huerta
The Missing Word by Moshe Sakal

Comics:

Randy & Lee by Angie Kang

Fiction:

A Seafarer’s Trifle by Shelley Roche Jacques
Their Clear Unobstructed View by W.S. Gong
The Problem With Trans by Jonathan Lenore Kastin
My Ma’s Hatred Grows Cavities Every Summer by Nico Martinez Nocito

Poetry:

Two Poems by Benjamin J. Larner
Three Poems by Marianne Kunkel

Interviews:

A Conversation with Hieu Minh Nguyen by Amanda E. Scott
A Conversation with Stephanie Soileau by David Y.

Culture:

Singing History, Speaking Liberation: BlackStar Film Festival at 15 by Yasmina Price
Heaven, Hell, and Nowhere: Gregg Araki’s Changing Los Angeles by Lucia Ahrensdorf
Why Widow’s Bay is Truly Peak Television by Robert Edelstein

Other:

Ceiling and Visibility Unlimited by Debbie Millman

I absolutely hate being proved right so many times, but this season could have been saved if Mel had been very up-front at the beginning that he didn’t want to get engaged. It would have been more honest and potentially a little more dramatic. Women eliminating themselves once they realize Mel is looking for a long-term boo thang, not a wife. Open and frank discussions about what a long-term partnership after 60 looks like…Remove the whole “Is Mel going to propose?” and turn it into two people coming together and deciding to be together in their golden years. Sure, it’s not an engagement, but it’s still something worth celebrating!...But alas! We don’t get any of that! And the whole endeavor feels like a flop!

Pop culture writers and critics are plentiful, but there are very few who do it with Barthwell’s canny wisdom and zeal. In this one Vulture piece alone, we find Barthwell engaging in scene and relational analysis, revealing her deep knowledge about what she calls the “Bachelor cinematic universe,” diving deep into podcasts about the show to look for additional insights, and offering astute commentary on the life of these reality stars beyond the scope of the show.

Barthwell’s skill in this arena is no surprise: she’s been writing about reality TV since 2015 and is also an Emmy-winning writer for Last Week Tonight With John Oliver.

Her first book, Reality TV for Snobs, showcases this knowledge and skill in an encyclopedia-like chronicle of the many shows that constitute reality TV. In her introduction, Barthwell details her methodology for choosing which shows to write about, but she also shares her love of the genre, which is born of nostalgia, a thrill at the gossip it cultivates, and an admiration for the communal connections it builds with and within its audience. Each section of the book breaks down a category of reality TV; offers some insights into the show’s history, significance, format, and key players; suggests some essential viewing; and provides some conversation starters if you’re new to the show. What Barthwell offers her readers is a broad understanding of the reality TV landscape built by a keen mind and a burgeoning respect for shows that have often been treated as mere junk TV.

Reality TV for Snobs is a deeply researched, thoughtfully composed book, and one of the reasons it’s so effective is because it takes fandom, high drama, and sustained audience connection seriously while always remembering that reality television, at its heart, is supposed to be a damn good time. I’m looking forward to discussing this wonderful book with you throughout the month of September.

And, as an aficionado of reality television, I would love to hear about your favorite shows and the ones you can’t stand. What are the shows you’ve never gotten into? Who are the reality tv stars you’re currently into?

I watch a broad range of reality TV. I’m a gourmand of the genre, if you will. I enjoy the cooking competitions and especially Top Chef and the Great British Baking Show. I love real estate reality shows, things like MTV’s The Challenge, Ink Master, the various Real Housewives franchises, Secret Lives of Mormon Wives, the lil Dallas cheerleader show, and so on. I like most Bravo offerings, the most recent season of Summer House and the various ethnic matchmaker shows. I tried to like the Temu Housewives Palm Beach show but my goodness, execrable stuff with absolutely bizarre people but not interesting bizarre. I’ve never gotten into Love Is Blind or Love Island but I do like The Ultimatum, especially the lesbian editions. I used to like Project Runway but this current iteration is abysmal. Once upon a time The Bachelor/ette was incredible TV but my goodness, has the show lost its way. I skip most of the TLC offerings but 90-Day Fiancé and the various spinoffs hold my attention when I have the time. I love The Amazing Race and I loved Survivor but again, the most recent changes have made the show frustrating. Bring back thirty-nine days and different locales! Come on! I am also open to international versions of certain franchises. Australian Survivor, for example, is awesome. The competitions are much more intense and the shenanigans are much more shenaniganny. Anyway, tell me all about your reality TV diet. The doctor is in.

We’ll be in conversation with Ali on September 29th at 8 pm EST/5 pm PST. Registration is open.

For newcomers, there is a bookclub FAQ if you have questions about how it all works. And this is what we will be reading for the rest of the year. We’re partnering with the lovely people at Allstora for the Audacious Book Club. Now, you can sign up to have the monthly selections delivered to your doorstep each month! Otherwise, I’ve put together an Audacious Book Club storefront if you want to buy current or forthcoming book club titles.

Subscribe now

THE NEWSLETTER WEEK IN REVIEW

PERSONAL & PROFESSIONAL NEWS

Debbie and I were interviewed by LUX Magazine. I spoke with New York magazine about reading.

On September 15th, I will be in conversation with the immensely talented debut author Lydia Mathis at the Center for Fiction. We’ll be talking about her short story collection Desperate Bodies, which I am publishing under Roxane Gay Books.

Book and project links: Books I’ve Written, RGB Imprint Titles, Rebind: The Age of Innocence by Edith Wharton; The Forgotten Occupation.

READING MATERIAL

Dolly Parton died at the age of 80. She was a beloved icon, philanthropist, literacy advocate, and co-star of the most amazing movie—9 to 5. She was a paid up union member. She was one of those rare celebrities who was almost universally adored. May she rest in peace. In 2027, Dollyfest will celebrate her life with her fans.

Gloria Steinem also died, may she rest in power. She accomplished a great deal in her life and was always evolving, learning, growing. She was a mentor and friend. She did so much for feminism, for so long. I was glad to know her. She wrote a final essay in The New Yorker and in that same publication, Emma Watson offered a remembrance.

RIP Robin Morgan, radical feminist though isn’t interesting what is labeled radical in the context of feminism? RIP Wendell Berry. RIP Tim Curry. Yayoi Kusama has died; nice polka dots, terrible racism. Cassandra Wilson also died whereupon I learned she had turned onto MAGA Lane in her later years. Alas.

The Lindsay Clancy trial has ended in a deadlock. The judge declared a mistrial. One juror refused to acquit Clancy. This is such a sad story, all around and it predictable/frustrating to see how she is being villainized. What she did was inexplicable and horrifying, but we should be considering what drove her to such a devastating decision. She was failed in many ways and her sweet children paid the price.

Like most of the infrastructure in the U.S., the power grid is old, failing, and vulnerable and if it were attacked or failed, it could result in a realllly long blackout.

The heatwaves in Europe have contributed to more than 35,000 deaths.

John Fetterman is exactly as terrible as we think he is. And he’s mad that people know.

This past two weeks, Trump has tried to rename Lake Ontario to Lake America, he’s starting to build an ugly monument to himself, he’s clearly going to raze the Kennedy Center, and he chopped down some cherry trees.

At long last, Maria Bartiromo has been fired from FOX.

Remember Milo Yiannopoulous? Heh. He was deported. Tigers, faces, eaten, etc. Now, ICE should be abolished and I will never take pleasure in their work but he was terrible, racist, and such a fucking hypocrite.

There’s a new Elizabeth Holmes documentary on the horizon. It looks weird but probably not good weird.

Meta glasses are a menace everywhere, including workplaces. Anyway, they’re settling the lawsuit about young people and social media addiction and say they will change. (Doubtful.) Also, Zuck tried to replace employees with AI. Disaster, of course.

This was a deeply sad article about Reggie Watts and his ex-gf Katherine Early McCollough and the role he may have played in her dying by suicide.

The challenges of traveling while Black.

Another day, another passenger being duct-taped to his seat for being unruly.

How women musicians from the 80s inspired a generation of women to take up music.

Mesa Refuge is accepting residency applications!

Olivia Rodrigo hosted Daisy Chain Fields, a music festival featuring women musicians. The event raised $20 million for ten non-profits. It was a lot of fun, very hot but then Sarah McLachlan and Alanis Morisette came out and I lost my shit. Later, at an after party, we met Stevie Nicks.

A profile of Olivia Dean.

The Lucas Museum of Narrative Art has opened.

The ultra wealthy have messy divorces.

Beyoncé gave the Studio Museum in Harlem $2 million. She’s also selling a pine box for $948.01. I think it’s absolutely hilarious because you literally do not have to buy the box but, the internet is mad about it nonetheless. Billionaires are gonna billionaire but there are about 3,400 other billionaires I’ll get riled up about before a Black woman.

Celebrity ghost writers find their work to be pretty lucrative!

Tommy Orange profiles Thomas King and gets into the uncanny phenomenon of pretendians.

People are doing something in NYC sewers but no one knows why.

The US Open is happening and Naomi Osaka is, per usual, amazing on the court and amazing at fashion.

Emily Wilson is retranslating The Odyssey.

This Dwight Garner review of Marlon James’s The Disappearers is rapturous. I love to see it. Also Marlon James is known in our household, as one of the finest men alive. The other such man is Jason Reynolds.

Art people! Smack Mellon is hiring a program manager.

A profile of ultrarunner Rachel Entrekin.

Influencers won’t be welcome at Wimbledon.

What in the Grey’s Anatomy??

Check out Emmy Rossum’s NYC apartment. She’s brilliant in Furious. Highly recommend.

If you’re in Illinois and are interested in criminal justice reportage, there is a fellowship for you!

This is niche but guys… IYKYK. Phaedra and CT are dating. I need to know every single thing about this. I am obsessed.

Let All Our Ghosts Depart, a short story collection from the very talented Meghana Mysore, is out now. And Emma Copley Eisenberg will be back out on tour with her lovely collection Fat Swim, a book I have savored over these past few months. Honestly, it is exquisite.

Butter boutique, you say?

MARRIAGE!

THE RUMPUS WEEK IN REVIEW

Comics:

Moon Water by Polly Lou Adams

El Alboroto:

tres poemas by Gabriela Boscio Santos

Essay:

Lux Nightmare Is Not a Porn Star by Lux Alptraum

Fiction:

Real Housewives of Hell by K.B. Brookins
Pseudomonas by Edidiong Uzoma Essien
Intergenerational Graphic Novel by Mai Tran
Don’t Stop Me Now by Enyinna Nnabuihe
Lifelong Denial of Clam Disorder by Katlina Sommerberg
When A Tree Falls by Ashni Mohnot
Sing by TJ Tranchell
The Ballad of Gloria Vetrana by Wes Byers

Poetry:

Three Poems by Masfi Khan
Two Poems by Ella Ordana
Every Poem Has a Winner by Emma De Lisle
After the Fall by Patrick Kindig
Two Poems by Zoe Boyer
Good Soldier by Augustus Owlyce

Interviews:

A Conversation with Julie Buntin by Marisa Siegel
A Conversation with Edwidge Danticat by Leslie-Ann Murray
A Conversation with Samantha Paige Rosen by Emma Bolden
A Conversation with Dom&Ink by Jendi Reitner
A Conversation with Alysia Li Ying Sawchyn by Celeste Lipkes
A Conversation with Kendra Allen by Addie E. Citchens
A Conversation with Jamilah Lemieux by Naya Clark

Culture:

Girl on Girl: Who Gets to Decide What Liberation Looks Like? by Monica Danielle
Seven Days in August by Elissa Altman
15 of the Best Book Covers of August by Zachary Petit

News:

The September Rumpus Book Club Selection: “The Odyssey” with Emily Wilson

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1. If you’re ever experiencing a medical emergency and are told to go or are taken to Chicago Med, run for your life, even if you are in a bad way. Even if you have to crawl. Chicago Med is the worst hospital in the history of hospitals and it is staffed by very bad doctors who are bad at doctoring.

2. There are three good people at Chicago Med: Sharon Goodwin, Dr. Charles and Nurse Maggie. Everyone else, basura. BASURA! Noah Sexton, whose sister is a nurse at Med is very bad at his job and grates the nerves. Dr. Rhodes is kind of hot but very one-note in terms of what he’s given to do on the show and then he leaves in his Porsche because he’s a trust fund baby.

3. Related: The doctors and nurses at Chicago Med have never encountered someone’s business they won’t mind except their own. They are nosy, intrusive, presumptuous, self-righteous, often wrong, and desperate to meddle in affairs that do not concern them.

4. Related: almost all of the doctors are snitches of the highest order. They are SNITCHES. Like, STFU.

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For newcomers, there is a bookclub FAQ if you have questions about how it all works. And this is what we will be reading for the rest of the year. We’re partnering with the lovely people at Allstora…

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Our August bookclub selection is The Simp by Roshan Sethi. We will be in conversation with Roshan on August 26th at 8 pm EST/5 pm PST. Registration is open.

For newcomers, there is a bookclub FAQ if you have questions about how it all works. And this is what we will be reading for the rest of the year. We’re partnering with …

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I first learned of Cambridge University sociology professor Jason Arday a few weeks ago when I read an article about his life, career, accusations of plagiarism and alleged fabulist tendencies. I didn’t take the plagiarism accusations particularly seriously because in recent years, there has been a disturbing pattern of Black academics being accused of …

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Earlier this month, I went to the Park Avenue Armory to see the clinamen installation by Céleste Boursier-Mougenot. The cavernous armory space is filled with the installation itself—three crystalline blue, recessed pools filled with pottery, always in motion by virtue of unseen jets moving the thousands of gallons of water in each pool. Around the pools, a wooden platform, and long benches that also serve as borders for the installation.

When you walk into the space, it is hushed but for the soft tones of people talking quietly and the music of the pottery in motion. In some ways, it feels like being in a vast sound bath, the clay bowls clinking against each other sonorously. Sitting in the space is a very immersive experience. I found it quite relaxing, taking some time out of the day to just sit and contemplate. But what was also interesting was observing how other people interacted with the space. There were all kinds of people there—couples, families with young children, friends taking in some art together. They sat on the benches around the edges of the space or directly on the floor next to the pools, talking quietly, and that sound itself, that human murmuration, was an interesting accompaniment to the sounds of the pottery clinking.

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Our August bookclub selection is The Simp by Roshan Sethi. We will be in conversation with Roshan on August 26th at 8 pm EST/5 pm PST. Registration is open.

For newcomers, there is a bookclub FAQ if you have questions about how it all works. And this is what we will be reading for the rest of the year. We’re partnering with …

Read more

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