Podcast appearances and mentions of David Denby

New York Times bestselling author, veteran film critic, and New Yorker staff writer David Denby chats with Zibby about EMINENT JEWS, which profiles Leonard Bernstein, Mel Brooks, Betty Friedan, and Norman Mailer. The conversation spans from Denby's early years under the mentorship of Pauline Kael to his decades-long career at The New Yorker, before diving into the cultural impact and complex legacies of the book's four iconic Jewish figures. Along the way, they discuss the evolution of Jewish identity in American media, the legacy of Bernstein as portrayed in Bradley Cooper's Maestro, Mel Brooks' fearless comedy, and what it means to reclaim the word "Jew."Purchase on Bookshop: https://bit.ly/42QJ84lShare, rate, & review the podcast, and follow Zibby on Instagram @zibbyowens! Now there's more! Subscribe to Moms Don't Have Time to Read Books on Acast+ and get ad-free episodes. https://plus.acast.com/s/moms-dont-have-time-to-read-books. Hosted on Acast. See acast.com/privacy for more information.

David Denby, long time New York Magazine film critic and acclaimed New Yorker writer, joins me to discuss his captivating new book "Eminent Jews." He examines how Leonard Bernstein, Mel Brooks, Betty Friedan, and Norman Mailer—all born within eight years of each other—wielded their Jewish heritage as a creative weapon in post-WWII America. In our conversation, Denby reveals how these boundary-breaking figures transformed American culture with their bold, unapologetic genius while embodying a new Jewish confidence.

Who are the most symbolic mid 20th century American Jews? In Eminent Jews, New Yorker staff writer David Denby tells the remarkable stories of Leonard Bernstein, Mel Brooks, Betty Friedan, and Norman Mailer. He explains how each embodied a new Jewish confidence after WWII, contrasting with earlier generations' restraint. Each figure pushed boundaries in their own way - Bernstein through his musical versatility, Brooks through his boundary-pushing humor about Jewish experiences, Friedan through her feminist theories, and Mailer through his provocative writing style. Five key takeaways * Post-WWII Jewish Americans displayed a newfound confidence and willingness to stand out publicly, unlike previous generations who were more cautious about drawing attention to their Jewishness.* The four figures in Denby's book (Bernstein, Brooks, Friedan, and Mailer) each embraced their Jewish identity differently, while becoming prominent in American culture in their respective fields.* Mel Brooks used humor, particularly about Jewish experiences and historical trauma, as both a defense mechanism and a way to assert Jewish presence and resilience.* Each figure pushed against the restraint of previous Jewish generations - Bernstein through his expressive conducting and openness about his complex sexuality, Friedan through her feminist activism, and Mailer through his aggressive literary style.* Rejecting the notion that a Jewish "golden age" has ended, Denby believes that despite current challenges including campus anti-Semitism, American Jews continue to thrive and excel disproportionately to their population size.David Denby is a staff writer at The New Yorker. He served as a film critic for the magazine from 1998 to 2014. His first article for The New Yorker, “Does Homer Have Legs?,” published in 1993, grew into a book, “Great Books: My Adventures with Homer, Rousseau, Woolf, and Other Indestructible Writers of the Western World,” about reading the literary canon at Columbia University. His other subjects for the magazine have included the Scottish Enlightenment, the writers Susan Sontag and James Agee, and the movie directors Clint Eastwood and the Coen brothers. In 1991, he received a National Magazine Award for three of his articles on high-end audio. Before joining The New Yorker, he was the film critic at New York magazine for twenty years; his writing has also appeared in The Atlantic, The New York Review of Books, and The New Republic. He is the editor of “Awake in the Dark: An Anthology of Film Criticism, 1915 to the Present” and the author of “American Sucker”; “Snark”; “Do the Movies Have a Future?,” a collection that includes his film criticism from the magazine; and “Lit Up,” a study of high-school English teaching. This is a public episode. If you'd like to discuss this with other subscribers or get access to bonus episodes, visit keenon.substack.com/subscribe

The JIT continues as we wrap up the quarters and find our way into the first semifinal with some awesome games featuring some of our favorite sweeties! Some of John's favorite Canadians are here too (ooo OOOO) and we have a blast recapping an epic battle between Ben Chan and Shane Whitlock, a buzzer masterclass from Luigi de Guzman, and Ken really having a lot of fun with a category about fascism. Plus, J! fans aren't really fuming but we do get the first instance of a J! player blaming their tiny hands on a loss and we dive deep on Harry Houdini. Or do we? It's magic! Donate to the show and get our first-ever bonus episode the second you do, plus access to our Discord! patreon.com/jeopardypodcast! Support your favorite J! recappers! SOURCE: The New Yorker: "Harry Houdini and the Art of Escape" by David Denby; Appleton Post-Crescent: "When Harry Met Edna: 115 Years Ago, Two of Appleton's Most Famous Residents Crossed Paths" by Shane Nyman; Wisconsin Life: "Harry Houdini and His Unbreakable Chain to Appleton" by Corinne Hess; History: "What Killed Harry Houdini?" by Evan Andrews Special thank you as always to the J-Archive and The Jeopardy! Fan. This episode is produced by Producer Dan. Music by Nate Heller. Art by Max Wittert.

Today we're traveling back to 1960s Poland with a listener request episode on Ida! Join us as we learn about "enemies of the people", Helena Wolinska-Bruce, historical examples of people hiding in the woods, and more! Sources: Order of St. Augustine official website: https://beafriar.org/blog-archive/2016/12/27/the-postures-and-gestures-of-ordination Julie Keefer, "In Hiding," United States Holocaust Memorial Museum, https://www.ushmm.org/remember/holocaust-reflections-testimonies/echoes-of-memory/in-hiding  Charlene Schiff, "The Girl from the Forest," USHMM, https://www.ushmm.org/remember/holocaust-reflections-testimonies/echoes-of-memory/the-girl-from-the-forest and "For a Rainy Day (Men Zol Nit Bedarfen)" https://www.ushmm.org/remember/holocaust-reflections-testimonies/echoes-of-memory/for-a-rainy-day-men-zol-nit-bedarfen  J.P. O'Malley, "'Into The Forest' Tells Story Of One Family's Escape From Nazi-Created Zhetel Ghetto," NPR (7 September 2021). https://www.npr.org/2021/09/07/1034739946/into-the-forest-tells-story-of-one-familys-escape-from-nazi-created-zhetel-ghett  Wikipedia: https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Ida_(film)  Rotten Tomatoes: https://www.rottentomatoes.com/m/ida_2013  David Denby, ""Ida": A Film Masterpiece," The New Yorker (27 May 2014). https://www.newyorker.com/culture/culture-desk/ida-a-film-masterpiece  Godfrey Cheshire, "Ida" RogerEbert.com (2 May 2014) https://www.rogerebert.com/reviews/ida-2014  Robert Booth, "Widow, 88, faces arrest warrant over death of Polish hero," The Guardian (21 November 2007) https://www.theguardian.com/uk/2007/nov/21/secondworldwar.ukcrime  Anne Applebaum, "The Three Lives of Helena Brus," (6 December 1998). https://www.anneapplebaum.com/1998/12/06/the-three-lives-of-helena-brus/  "August Emil Fieldorf," Wikipedia https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/August_Emil_Fieldorf  Agata Fijalkowski, "Politics, Law, and Justice in People's Poland: The Fieldorf File," Slavic Review 73, no.1 (2014): 85-107. https://www.jstor.org/stable/10.5612/slavicreview.73.1.0085  Jan C. Behrends, "Rokossowski Coming Home: The Making and Breaking of an (Inter)-National Hero in Stalinist Poland," The Hungarian Historical Review 5, 4 (2016) Renata Sczcepanik, Gavin Simpson, and Sabina Siebert, "Prison Officers in Poland," Communist and Post-Communist Studies 47, 1 (2014) Piotr J. Wrobel, "Class War or Ethnic Cleansing? Soviet Deporations of Polish Citizens from the Eastern Provinces of Poland, 1939-1941," The Polish Review 59, 2 (2014)

Crackpot Cinema: Ep. 29 — BUSTIN’ LOOSE (1981) and D.C. CAB (1983) Guest co-host PAT HEALY comes roaring back for high-octane, outrageously anti-social, bizarrely heart-warming careen into the early-’80s R-rated comedy oddities BUSTIN’ LOOSE (1981) with Richard Pryor and D.C. CAB (1983) with — get ready — Mr. T, The Barbarian Brothers, Charlie Barnett, Marsha Warfield, Max Gail, Bill Maher, Irene Cara … AND Gary Busey as Dell (he demanded the special “AND” credit). Unnecessarily and inappropriately profane highlights include: • Joe Mason — Barber for Hire, Foot for Popemobile to Run Over! • The curious ’70s-turning-’80s phenomenon of R-rated PG movies! • How false advertising worked for BUSTIN’ LOOSE, but failed for BLUE COLLAR! • UNCLE TOM’S FAIRY TALES aka Richard Pryor’s THE DAY THE CLOWN CRIED! • Gary Busey does filthy toilet floor “intestinal yoga”! • Mr. T pities the gimmick star who can’t crowbar “Just Say No” messaging into a filthy comedy about genuinely dangerous and reprehensible “heroes”! • Pat Healy tweet-slaps Adam Baldwin! • Timothy Carey goes to Hell — and Charlie Barnett drives him there! • The profound impact upon young Mike McPadden of NEW YORK magazine critic David Denby’s one-line summation of ST. ELMO’S FIRE — i.e., “Directed by the brutally untalented Joel Schumacher.” (Thank you to KINO LORBER for putting out BUSTIN’ LOOSE and D.C. CAB as Special Edition Blu-Rays!)

No, you're not dreaming, we've done an episode on Inception which is celebrating it's 10th Anniversary!We went and got the dreamboat from The Blenders and Home Free's Producer, Darren Rust to make his AI debut. We've been wanting to get him on the podcast and this just happens to be one of his favorite films, so it worked out!Our dream within a dream was a fun movie game Buegs made up called The Starting 5 and one layer deeper our Patrons get to hear us battle it out during our Top 5 Favorite Movie Dream Sequences Draft.We hope you're all staying happy, healthy and safe out there! Sweet Dreams!2:27 The Departed 4:07 Lawrence of Arabia7:53 Class Action Park (HBO Max)10:26 Schitt's Creek Season 2 (Netflix)12:15 Buegs' Favorite Meal12:39 Rack Shack BBQ https://rackshackbarbeque.com/13:56 Plugarooni's 14:33 patreon.com/theavidindoorsmen 15:43 Coming Attractions: Mulan16:51 @DarrenRust @SkylandStudio www.theblenders.com 19:45 Inception Plot Synopsis20:22 Rotten Tomatoes20:47 David Denby from The New Yorker21:12 Karen James from Newsday21:41 Buegs' Hot Take23:18 Rob's Hot Take25:07 Darren's Hot Take26:36 The Dude Award28:20 The Tucci Award34:16 The Dingus44:00 Show Me The Money50:08 Buegs' Boo Hoo Moments53:16 Movie Trivia1:01:39 Judgement Day1:02:45 The Starting 5 (Leo Movies)1:19:52 Top 5 Favorite Movie Dream Sequences

Inspired by two recent descriptions of a desire to expand learning options, one penned by a young student to Rav Moshe Tzuriel,andthe other a description of an exciting Corona era"return to the classroom " by 77 year old David Denby,Rabbi Kivelevitz lodges a complaint that the standard Yeshivos with their high powered exciting learning are not making the product available to senior citizens and discriminating against Sefardi bochurim.Please find below listener's responses(in italics) and Rabbi Kivelevitz's answers-you can be in this space as well!That was a surprisingly cynical discussion on yeshivos. Didn't seem to have a clear end game.Ireally have an issue with the way Ner Israel was run-and was a personal victim-it is hard not to be bitter.Work that I have had in recent yearsgivesme an insight into how they still operate.My main point was to make this great product truly available to allI would ask the following: Why is it that the Rav Chaim/Brisker method of learning, in only 100 years, has taken over as the seemingly sole representative style of learning gemara? Did yeshivos even exist before Cheftza and Gavra? Maybe what is needed is a restoration of the original methods of learning, rather than trying to shoehorn everyone into pilpul.Again-a good topic of discussion-Rav Zevin's Ishim Vishitos andShagar's book-Ubitoroso yehegeh-along with Marc Shapiro's book on Rav YY Weinberg are good places to gain perspective on how effective and necessary the revolution was.I think there already has been more change than you think-and the Brisker method has undergone a lot of dilutionAs to why pilpul and not Sefardi styleBekius or Sugya oriented Chasidic approach-One can read the material collected by Rav Simcha Asaf in Toldos HaChinuch BiYisroelin the sections that deal with the Maharal's call for change in instructionand read Rav YisroelSalanter's defense and passionate appeal for continuingand strengthening pilpulistic approaches that are blatantly untrue as a means of filtering young ego into ahavas haTorah-with corrections to be applied later.See in this regardIsrael Salanter, Text, Structure, Idea:The Ethics and Theology of an Early Psychologist of the Unconscious-by Hillel GoldbergYour most recent Rischa episode left me surprised. The only yeshiva I've ever learn at is Ohr Somayach Monsey (and its present gilgul). There have always been middle-aged and more elderly people learning in shiurim with bochurim, often with bochurim bchevrusa. I personally have a chevrusa with a nearly-70 yr old retired BT with no yeshiva experience prior to beginning learning full time five years ago. A friend of mine learned for years with a doctor, now in his eighties, who became observant and came to the yeshiva in his sixties. At one point, my shiur's median age was probably around sixty. R'Bechhofer's mechutan has been learning b'chevrusa with a recently-married friend of mine for around two years. Off the top of my head, I can think of eight people of this demographic ( approximately out of a total of 100 affiliated with the yeshiva, Kollel, and semicha program), around half of whom are FFB, who have been learning on campus.You are blessed indeed to have been part of such an institution-and they are to be commended-It is definitelynot the norm,and many of the elite schools boast incredible magideishiur-who should have those older fellows sitting in the front rowI guess a BT yeshiva is an exception to this norm. I always assumed I'd be able to return to learning in a yeshiva/Kollel setting upon retirement. Is this not the case?No one will kick you out of the building-as the situation stands now=efforts will not be made to integrate you into the youthful student body-and if the dismissive arrogance towards the older generationthat seems to be the standard stock of millenials continues to fester-don't expect to swim right away unless you knock them off their socksOutside of a BT yeshiva, what learning options are for the retired? Just chevrusas or specialized kolelim for them?That's why we did the Show-to start a grass roots movement and outcry against this ageismI am confused about the specifics of the problem. Is the lack of elderly in yeshivos simply because it's culturally not what is done in yeshivish circles (why?),The point of the experience is to mold them for the future-create a type of Rebbe or Rosh KollelandBaalei Batim who will support the cause-not just for Ahavas HaTorah and there tobe aShaar Mitzuyin in HalachaRYGB gave you his theory on air..I think everyone fears the x-factor...so the yeshivos don't try to attract them and they consequently feel unwelcome and refrain from participating? Or are they actively being excluded from yeshivos?I'm not sure if the two ways you present them are that differentAs in,they are deliberately excluded after inquiring about joining shiur.I don't have hard data-yet I would bet that the answer is yes-maybe couched with a modicum of respect and suggestions for other less intense and fruitful options See acast.com/privacy for privacy and opt-out information. This podcast is powered by JewishPodcasts.org. Start your own podcast today and share your content with the world. Click jewishpodcasts.fm/signup to get started.

Inspired by two recent descriptions of a desire to expand learning options, one penned by a young student to Rav Moshe Tzuriel,andthe other a description of an exciting Corona era"return to the classroom " by 77 year old David Denby,Rabbi Kivelevitz lodges a complaint that the standard Yeshivos with their high powered exciting learning are not making the product available to senior citizens and discriminating against Sefardi bochurim.Please find below listener's responses(in italics) and Rabbi Kivelevitz's answers-you can be in this space as well!That was a surprisingly cynical discussion on yeshivos. Didn't seem to have a clear end game.I really have an issue with the way Ner Israel was run-and was a personal victim-it is hard not to be bitter.Work that I have had in recent years gives me an insight into how they still operate.My main point was to make this great product truly available to allI would ask the following: Why is it that the Rav Chaim/Brisker method of learning, in only 100 years, has taken over as the seemingly sole representative style of learning gemara? Did yeshivos even exist before Cheftza and Gavra? Maybe what is needed is a restoration of the original methods of learning, rather than trying to shoehorn everyone into pilpul.Again-a good topic of discussion-Rav Zevin's Ishim Vishitos and Shagar's book-Ubitoroso yehegeh-along with Marc Shapiro's book on Rav YY Weinberg are good places to gain perspective on how effective and necessary the revolution was.I think there already has been more change than you think-and the Brisker method has undergone a lot of dilutionAs to why pilpul and not Sefardi style Bekius or Sugya oriented Chasidic approach-One can read the material collected by Rav Simcha Asaf in Toldos HaChinuch BiYisroel in the sections that deal with the Maharal's call for change in instructionand read Rav Yisroel Salanter's defense and passionate appeal for continuing and strengthening pilpulistic approaches that are blatantly untrue as a means of filtering young ego into ahavas haTorah-with corrections to be applied later.See in this regardIsrael Salanter, Text, Structure, Idea: The Ethics and Theology of an Early Psychologist of the Unconscious-by Hillel GoldbergYour most recent Rischa episode left me surprised. The only yeshiva I’ve ever learn at is Ohr Somayach Monsey (and its present gilgul). There have always been middle-aged and more elderly people learning in shiurim with bochurim, often with bochurim bchevrusa. I personally have a chevrusa with a nearly-70 yr old retired BT with no yeshiva experience prior to beginning learning full time five years ago. A friend of mine learned for years with a doctor, now in his eighties, who became observant and came to the yeshiva in his sixties. At one point, my shiur’s median age was probably around sixty. R’Bechhofer’s mechutan has been learning b’chevrusa with a recently-married friend of mine for around two years. Off the top of my head, I can think of eight people of this demographic ( approximately out of a total of 100 affiliated with the yeshiva, Kollel, and semicha program), around half of whom are FFB, who have been learning on campus.You are blessed indeed to have been part of such an institution-and they are to be commended-It is definitely not the norm,and many of the elite schools boast incredible magidei shiur-who should have those older fellows sitting in the front rowI guess a BT yeshiva is an exception to this norm. I always assumed I’d be able to return to learning in a yeshiva/Kollel setting upon retirement. Is this not the case?No one will kick you out of the building-as the situation stands now=efforts will not be made to integrate you into the youthful student body-and if the dismissive arrogance towards the older generation that seems to be the standard stock of millenials continues to fester-don't expect to swim right away unless you knock them off their socks Outside of a BT yeshiva, what learning options are for the retired? Just chevrusas or specialized kolelim for them? That's why we did the Show-to start a grass roots movement and outcry against this ageismI am confused about the specifics of the problem. Is the lack of elderly in yeshivos simply because it’s culturally not what is done in yeshivish circles (why?), The point of the experience is to mold them for the future-create a type of Rebbe or Rosh Kollel and Baalei Batim who will support the cause-not just for Ahavas HaTorah and there to be a Shaar Mitzuyin in HalachaRYGB gave you his theory on air..I think everyone fears the x-factor...so the yeshivos don’t try to attract them and they consequently feel unwelcome and refrain from participating? Or are they actively being excluded from yeshivos? I'm not sure if the two ways you present them are that differentAs in, they are deliberately excluded after inquiring about joining shiur.I don't have hard data-yet I would bet that the answer is yes-maybe couched with a modicum of respect and suggestions for other less intense and fruitful options See acast.com/privacy for privacy and opt-out information.

We had so much fun with our good friend, Heatbox, on the last one that we insisted he come back and share his amazing talents and extremely tasty takes on the conclusion of Kill Bill!Heatbox was nice enough to invite us over to his place to talk about the last movies we've watched, what we're binging on the streaming platforms and our most recent delicious meals!We had so much fun breaking down Kill Bill Vol. 2, we think you're really going to enjoy the scorching hot takes we served up for your listening pleasure.This episode is concluded with the three of us playing our Blast From the Past Movie Game! Also, Heatbox was nice enough to stick around to chat about our Top 5 Revenge Films that only our Patrons on Patreon are eligible to consume audibly. We hope you're enjoying this Inglorious Podcasts series! 1:19 @HeatboxLLC; www.soul-players.com4:08 50/506:05 Wine Country8:50 Toy Story 310:36 Chernobyl15:18 Rick & Morty17:07 www.savoypizza.com19:10 www.pelicanandpig.com20:10 www.tacocatmn.com21:23 Plugaroonis21:45 www.patreon.com/theavidindoorsmen25:53 Coming Attractions: Death Proof and Inglourious Basterds26:48 Kill Bill Vol. 2 Plot Synopsis27:22 Rotten Tomatoes28:07 David Denby from The New Yorker30:48 Time Out31:34 Buegs' Hot Take33:39 Rob's Hot Take37:57 Heatbox's Hot Take40:16 The Dude Award45:25 The Tucci Award54:33 Favorite Scene (Sophie's Choice)1:08:00 Show Me The Money1:14:20 Buegs Boo Hoo Moments1:17:05 Movie Trivia1:22:45 Judgement Day1:24:40 Blast From the Past Movie Game1:38:30 www.heatboxllc.com1:39:15 Mother Function Song1:41:27 Top 5 Revenge Movies

Tomorrow in Manhattan, a film festival opens in honor of the late movie critic Pauline Kael, born 100 years ago this month. A film festival - for a critic? WNYC's Sara Fishko has more in this episode of Fishko Files. "Losing It at the Movies: Pauline Kael at 100" runs at Quad Cinema tomorrow, June 7 through Thursday, June 20. David Denby is a critic and staff writer for The New Yorker. Peter Rainer is the film critic at the Christian Science Monitor and author of "Rainer on Film: Thirty Years of Film Writing in a Turbulent and Transformative Era." Amy Taubin is a film critic and contributing editor at Artforum, Film Comment, and Sight & Sound. Fishko Files with Sara Fishko Assistant Producer: Olivia BrileyMix Engineer: Wayne Shulmister & Jared PaulEditor: Karen Frillmann

Podcast edition of Lincoln Center’s popular live series, The History of the World in 100 Performances with New Yorker writer and cultural critic Adam Gopnik. In this episode, Adam is joined by Jamie Bernstein, David Denby, Jake Gyllenhaal and John Mauceri to take us back in time to November 14, 1943, when a 25-year-old assistant conductor stepped up to the podium at the last minute to lead what was then known as the New York Philharmonic Symphony. His name? Leonard Bernstein.  Recorded live on February 16, 2016 at the David Rubenstein Atrium at Lincoln Center. Archival audio used courtesy of the New York Philharmonic Leon Levy Digital Archives. Letters by Leonard Bernstein © Amberson Holdings LLC. Used by Permission of The Leonard Bernstein Office, Inc.

"I thought you only kill for survival- Aggression, plotting, revenge. You're more human than I realized.” — Helen to Donna [source: siren.wikia.com]Helen Hawkinsis a main character on Freeform's series, Siren. She is portrayed by Rena Owen.Helen is an antique shop owner and the local folklore expert. Since the resurfacing of mermaids in Bristol Cove, she has formed somewhat of a friendship with Ben Pownall and Maddie Bishop in order to help with Ryn and her sister Donna. She later reveals to Donna that she is a mermaid as well. [source: IMDb).Rena is an international award-winning actor and is one of only 6 actors in the world to have worked with both George Lucas and Stephen Spielberg during her illustrious career that spans 3 decades.One of 9 children, she was born and bred in the Bay of Islands, New Zealand to a Maori/Welsh Father and a European Mother. She was first published at 8 when she won a national children's poetry contest, and throughout her youth, Owen was active in the Maori Culture Club, High School Musical productions, and Community Stage Plays. Despite knowing her talents were in creativity, upon graduating, the Arts were not considered a viable career.At 18, she moved to Auckland to pursue a Nursing Career and 3 years later qualified as a General & Obstetric Nurse (RGN). In 1983, she went on her OE (overseas experience), a common Kiwi pursuit, and landed in London. Awed by the huge city and the bright lights of the entertainment world, the temptations that came with it easily seduced the naive 21 year old. But this life changing period led her back to a creative career.She trained at the Actors Institute of London in the mid-1980s. During her formative years she worked in all aspects of the Theater. The first stage play she wrote, The River That Ran Away was produced by Clean Break and directed by the reputable award winning British actress Ann Mitchell with Rena in the lead role. It enjoyed a successful London tour and was later published by NZ Playmarket (1991). Other UK highlights include, Voices from Prison for the Royal Shakespeare Company, and award winning play, Outside In that debuted at the Edinburgh Festival.Upon her return to NZ in 1989, Rena acted in two one-hour dramas for Television NZ's Series, E Tipu E Rea. A first of its' kind; the series was written, acted, directed and produced by Maori. In constant pursuit of learning and honing her craft, she continued to work extensively in theatre; acting, writing, directing, working as a dramaturgy, and was a founding member of Taki Rua Theatre.She wrote and recorded short stories for Radio NZ, wrote and starred in the critically acclaimed stage play, Daddy's Girl whilst playing reoccurring roles in two NZ TV Series, Betty's Bunch, and Shark in the Park. Rena was a rare recipient of a Dame Te Atairangikaahu (the Maori Queen) Literary Award & Scholarship.Rena's first feature film was a supporting role in the Kevin Reynolds/Kevin Costner film, Rapa Nui (1993), followed by the leading role in the cult-classic NZ film, Once Were Warriors. Her electrifying performance garnered her universal rave reviews. David Denby declared, "Owen's performance is classic!" Roger Ebert proclaimed, "You don't often see acting like this in the movies. The two leads bring the Academy Awards into perspective." Ruby Rich called her "The Bette Davis from Down Under", while Thelma Adams wrote, "Owen has the --- This episode is sponsored by · Anchor: The easiest way to make a podcast. https://anchor.fm/app

Today's episode is an excerpt from a fantastic New Yorker article entitled “Audiophilia Forever: An Expensive New Year's Shopping Guide” written by David Denby. (Click here to read the entire article) It does such a great job explaining what an audiophile is, the recent history of audiophile music and recordings, and the “state of the […]

With more than 30 years in both the teaching and coaching fields, Dan John has established his name as one of the most renown fitness experts. Beginning his lifting career in 1965 and transitioning to a coaching role in 1979 we hear from Dan how it is that he has created these time eluding principles that he both implemented in his own time as an athlete and to coaching others as well. We dive into topics such as the importance of becoming a slave to good habits, creating a process for success, building and protecting confidence, as well as his implementation of shark bites in his daily life. As always it was a pleasure to speak to Dan John, there are many pearls of wisdom in this episode that will not only be applicable to your training life but also to your everyday life. Enjoy the show. Brute Hotline: (801) 449-0503 Want a chance to get featured in a future episode? Call in and leave us a voicemail with some questions regarding training, nutrition, mindset, etc. Topics of discussion: [0:17] Dan’s Education and Principles [2:45] Being a warrior [6:43] Timeless Resources [11:15] Becoming a slave to good habits [16:30] Having a lifestyle not a program [20:40] Creating a process for success [22:23] Sports psychology experience [25:25] Learning from failure [29:26] The John Family mottos [33:20] Building and protecting confidence [38:40] Experience and its benefits [43:18] Rapid Fire Questions   Links: Dan John’s Wandering Weights   Books: The Sword in the Stone by T.H. White The Power of Myth by Joseph Campbell The Epic of Gilgamesh Great Books by David Denby   Reviews: If you LOVE this podcast, please click HERE to leave me a review. It energizes me to keep doing these as well as pushes us higher in the rankings. Thank you all for the support. Follow us on Instagram @brute.strength

This week on StoryWeb: Nathaniel Hawthorne’s novel “The Scarlet Letter.” “What we did had a consecration of its own.” So says Hester Prynne to Arthur Dimmesdale in Nathaniel Hawthorne’s 1850 novel, The Scarlet Letter. When I was 15 and reading the novel for the first time in my high school American literature class, I had no idea what Hester – she of the scarlet letter – meant. But as I got older, as I experienced my own deep connections with others, I came to understand Hester very well. In her view, her forest rendezvous with Dimmesdale was not lustful fornication but sacred, holy lovemaking, lovemaking that honored both of them. If you read (or read about) The Scarlet Letter in high school and haven’t touched it since, I highly encourage you to give it another chance. I don’t think it is a book for teenagers, for they do not have nearly enough life experience to understand the bond between Hester and Dimmesdale. They can’t fathom what each gives up – or considers giving up – for the other. (Other teachers, however, report some success with teaching the complex moral novel in high school. See Brenda Wineapple’s essay “The Scarlet Letter and Nathaniel Hawthorne’s America,” and David Denby’s piece “Is It Still Possible to Teach The Scarlet Letter in High School?”) If you’re ready to read The Scarlet Letter for the first time or if you’re ready to read it again, you can read the book online for free or buy a hard copy for your collection. Don’t bother with any of the wretched film adaptations (especially the 1995 version starring Demi Moore as Hester). Just stick with the novel itself. Your own imagination will bring the book to life! Once you’ve got the book in hand, it’s best to start with Hawthorne’s opening essay, “The Custom House.” Many readers skip it, wanting to move ahead to the story. But “The Custom House” is key to the novel in so many ways. It tells of Hawthorne’s years working as the chief executive officer of the Salem, Massachusetts, Custom House. Salem, of course, was the site of the heinous Salem Witch Trials. In 1692, the Puritans “pressed” one man to death and hung fourteen women and five men, all of them falsely convicted of witchcraft. Salem was Hawthorne’s hometown, his long-time ancestral home. In fact, one of his direct ancestors was Justice John Hathorne; he was the chief interrogator of the accused witches. So distressed and estranged was Hawthorne by his family’s participation in the Salem Witch Trials that he changed the spelling of his surname, thereby distancing himself from the family legacy. In “The Custom House,” Hawthorne tells of his struggle to come to terms with his family’s past. He says, This long connection of a family with one spot, as its place of birth and burial, creates a kindred between the human being and the locality, quite independent of any charm in the scenery or moral circumstances that surround him. It is not love, but instinct. . . . It is no matter that the place is joyless for him; that he is weary of the old wooden houses, the mud and dust, the dead level of site and sentiment, the chill east wind, and the chillest of social atmospheres. . . . The spell survives, and just as powerfully as if the natal spot were an earthly paradise. So has it been in my case. I felt it almost as a destiny to make Salem my home. . . . Nevertheless, this very sentiment is an evidence that the connection, which has become an unhealthy one, should at last be severed. Later in the essay, Hawthorne tells of poking around one day in the “heaped-up rubbish” of the Custom House and finding a beautifully embroidered, red letter A, “a certain affair of fine red cloth, much worn and faded.” It had been wrought,” Hawthorne says, “with wonderful skill of needlework; and the stitch . . . gives evidence of a now forgotten art.” While puzzling over the meaning of the scarlet letter, Hawthorne places it on his chest. “I experienced a sensation not altogether physical, yet almost so, as of burning heat,” he writes. “as if the letter were not of red cloth, but red-hot iron.” Accompanying the scarlet letter, Hawthorne finds a “small roll of dingy paper,” which reveals that Hester Prynne had been the wearer of the letter. Hawthorne’s story of discovering the scarlet letter and finding out about Hester Prynne is completely fabricated as far as we know, but the reader is hooked. The novel that follows promises to tell the story of the infamous Hester Prynne and her even more infamous scarlet letter. While the story of the scarlet letter may be a figment of Hawthorne’s imagination, what is real is the harsh legacy of the 17th-century Puritans and Hawthorne’s own Transcendentalist-touched life in the 19th century. In a surprising and quite interesting turn of events, it was the descendants of the 17th-century Puritans who became the Transcendentalists – those fervent free thinkers – in the 19th century. I always imagine that the Puritans would have rolled over in their graves had they known what their heirs espoused. In fact, Hester can easily be seen as a Transcendentalist heroine set smack dab in a Puritan world. As Hawthorne created his heroine, he made her much more a product of the 19th century than the 17th century. As she “stand[s] alone in the world” and “cast[s] away the fragments of a broken chain,” she determines that “[t]he world’s law was no law for her mind.” Wearing her scarlet letter, “[i]n her lonesome cottage, by the sea-shore, thoughts visited her, such as dared to enter no other dwelling in New England.” In fact, says Hawthorne, “she might have come down to us in history, hand in hand with Anne Hutchinson, as the foundress of a religious sect. She might, in one of her phases, have been a prophetess.” No wonder Hester is ostracized from her community: she was much too dangerous for the small community of Boston! Ready to explore Hawthorne and The Scarlet Letter further? Start with an overview of Hawthorne’s relationship to his ancestral hometown, created by one of my students at Shepherd University and illustrated with photos of our 2002 trip to Salem. “Hawthorne in Salem” is another great website that helps the scene and the context for Hawthorne’s writing of The Scarlet Letter. For links to these resources, visit thestoryweb.com/hawthorne. Listen now as I read excerpts from the first three chapters of The Scarlet Letter. You’ll see Hester Prynne as she leaves the prison, walks to the scaffold to receive her punishment, and returns to her cell.   A THRONG of bearded men, in sad-colored garments and gray, steeple-crowned hats, intermixed with women, some wearing hoods, and others bareheaded, was assembled in front of a wooden edifice, the door of which was heavily timbered with oak, and studded with iron spikes.   The founders of a new colony, whatever Utopia of human virtue and happiness they might originally project, have invariably recognized it among their earliest practical necessities to allot a portion of the virgin soil as a cemetery, and another portion as the site of a prison. In accordance with this rule, it may safely be assumed that the forefathers of Boston had built the first prison-house, somewhere in the vicinity of Cornhill, almost as seasonably as they marked out the first burial-ground, on Isaac Johnson’s lot, and round about his grave, which subsequently became the nucleus of all the congregated sepulchres in the old church-yard of King’s Chapel. Certain it is, that, some fifteen or twenty years after the settlement of the town, the wooden jail was already marked with weather-stains and other indications of age, which gave a yet darker aspect to its beetle-browed and gloomy front. The rust on the ponderous iron-work of its oaken door looked more antique than any thing else in the new world. Like all that pertains to crime, it seemed never to have known a youthful era. Before this ugly edifice, and between it and the wheel-track of the street, was a grass-plot, much overgrown with burdock, pig-weed, apple-peru, and such unsightly vegetation, which evidently found something congenial in the soil that had so early borne the black flower of civilized society, a prison. But, on one side of the portal, and rooted almost at the threshold, was a wild rose-bush, covered, in this month of June, with its delicate gems, which might be imagined to offer their fragrance and fragile beauty to the prisoner as he went in, and to the condemned criminal as he came forth to his doom, in token that the deep heart of Nature could pity and be kind to him.    THE GRASS-PLOT before the jail, in Prison Lane, on a certain summer morning, not less than two centuries ago, was occupied by a pretty large number of the inhabitants of Boston; all with their eyes intently fastened on the iron-clamped oaken door. Amongst any other population, or at a later period in the history of New England, the grim rigidity that petrified the bearded physiognomies of these good people would have augured some awful business in hand. It could have betokened nothing short of the anticipated execution of some noted culprit, on whom the sentence of a legal tribunal had but confirmed the verdict of public sentiment. But, in that early severity of the Puritan character, an inference of this kind could not so indubitably be drawn. It might be that a sluggish bond-servant, or an undutiful child, whom his parents had given over to the civil authority, was to be corrected at the whipping-post. It might be, that an Antinomian, a Quaker, or other heterodox religionist, was to be scourged out of the town, or an idle and vagrant Indian, whom the white man’s fire-water had made riotous about the streets, was to be driven with stripes into the shadow of the forest. It might be, too, that a witch, like old Mistress Hibbins, the bitter-tempered widow of the magistrate, was to die upon the gallows. In either case, there was very much the same solemnity of demeanour on the part of the spectators; as befitted a people amongst whom religion and law were almost identical, and in whose character both were so thoroughly interfused, that the mildest and the severest acts of public discipline were alike made venerable and awful. Meagre, indeed, and cold, was the sympathy that a transgressor might look for, from such bystanders at the scaffold. On the other hand, a penalty which, in our days, would infer a degree of mocking infamy and ridicule, might then be invested with almost as stern a dignity as the punishment of death itself.   The door of the jail being flung open from within, there appeared, in the first place, like a black shadow emerging into sunshine, the grim and grisly presence of the town-beadle, with a sword by his side and his staff of office in his hand. This personage prefigured and represented in his aspect the whole dismal severity of the Puritanic code of law, which it was his business to administer in its final and closest application to the offender. Stretching forth the official staff in his left hand, he laid his right upon the shoulder of a young woman, whom he thus drew forward until, on the threshold of the prison-door, she repelled him, by an action marked with natural dignity and force of character, and stepped into the open air, as if by her own free-will. She bore in her arms a child, a baby of some three months old, who winked and turned aside its little face from the too vivid light of day; because its existence, heretofore, had brought it acquainted only with the gray twilight of a dungeon, or other darksome apartment of the prison.   When the young woman—the mother of this child—stood fully revealed before the crowd, it seemed to be her first impulse to clasp the infant closely to her bosom; not so much by an impulse of motherly affection, as that she might thereby conceal a certain token, which was wrought or fastened into her dress. In a moment, however, wisely judging that one token of her shame would but poorly serve to hide another, she took the baby on her arm, and, with a burning blush, and yet a haughty smile, and a glance that would not be abashed, looked around at her townspeople and neighbours. On the breast of her gown, in fine red cloth, surrounded with an elaborate embroidery and fantastic flourishes of gold thread, appeared the letter A. It was so artistically done, and with so much fertility and gorgeous luxuriance of fancy, that it had all the effect of a last and fitting decoration to the apparel which she wore; and which was of a splendor in accordance with the taste of the age, but greatly beyond what was allowed by the sumptuary regulations of the colony.   The young woman was tall, with a figure of perfect elegance, on a large scale. She had dark and abundant hair, so glossy that it threw off the sunshine with a gleam, and a face which, besides being beautiful from regularity of feature and richness of complexion, had the impressiveness belonging to a marked brow and deep black eyes. She was lady-like, too, after the manner of the feminine gentility of those days; characterized by a certain state and dignity, rather than by the delicate, evanescent, and indescribable grace, which is now recognized as its indication. And never had Hester Prynne appeared more lady-like, in the antique interpretation of the term, than as she issued from the prison. Those who had before known her, and had expected to behold her dimmed and obscured by a disastrous cloud, were astonished, and even startled, to perceive how her beauty shone out, and made a halo of the misfortune and ignominy in which she was enveloped. It may be true, that, to a sensitive observer, there was something exquisitely painful in it. Her attire, which, indeed, she had wrought for the occasion, in prison, and had modelled much after her own fancy, seemed to express the attitude of her spirit, the desperate recklessness of her mood, by its wild and picturesque peculiarity. But the point which drew all eyes, and, as it were, transfigured the wearer,—so that both men and women, who had been familiarly acquainted with Hester Prynne, were now impressed as if they beheld her for the first time,—was that SCARLET LETTER, so fantastically embroidered and illuminated upon her bosom. It had the effect of a spell, taking her out of the ordinary relations with humanity, and inclosing her in a sphere by herself.   “She hath good skill at her needle, that’s certain,” remarked one of the female spectators; “but did ever a woman, before this brazen hussy, contrive such a way of showing it! Why, gossips, what is it but to laugh in the faces of our godly magistrates, and make a pride out of what they, worthy gentlemen, meant for a punishment?”   “It were well,” muttered the most iron-visaged of the old dames, “if we stripped Madam Hester’s rich gown off her dainty shoulders; and as for the red letter, which she hath stitched so curiously, I’ll bestow a rag of mine own rheumatic flannel, to make a fitter one!”   “O, peace, neighbours, peace!” whispered their youngest companion. “Do not let her hear you! Not a stitch in that embroidered letter, but she has felt it in her heart.”   The grim beadle now made a gesture with his staff.   “Make way, good people, make way, in the King’s name,” cried he. “Open a passage; and, I promise ye, Mistress Prynne shall be set where man, woman, and child may have a fair sight of her brave apparel, from this time till an hour past meridian. A blessing on the righteous Colony of the Massachusetts, where iniquity is dragged out into the sunshine! Come along, Madam Hester, and show your scarlet letter in the market-place!”   A lane was forthwith opened through the crowd of spectators. Preceded by the beadle, and attended by an irregular procession of stern-browed men and unkindly-visaged women, Hester Prynne set forth towards the place appointed for her punishment. A crowd of eager and curious schoolboys, understanding little of the matter in hand, except that it gave them a half-holiday, ran before her progress, turning their heads continually to stare into her face, and at the winking baby in her arms, and at the ignominious letter on her breast. It was no great distance, in those days, from the prison-door to the market-place. Measured by the prisoner’s experience, however, it might be reckoned a journey of some length; for, haughty as her demeanour was, she perchance underwent an agony from every footstep of those that thronged to see her, as if her heart had been flung into the street for them all to spurn and trample upon. In our nature, however, there is a provision, alike marvellous and merciful, that the sufferer should never know the intensity of what he endures by its present torture, but chiefly by the pang that rankles after it. With almost a serene deportment, therefore, Hester Prynne passed through this portion of her ordeal, and came to a sort of scaffold, at the western extremity of the market-place. It stood nearly beneath the eaves of Boston’s earliest church, and appeared to be a fixture there.   In fact, this scaffold constituted a portion of a penal machine, which now, for two or three generations past, has been merely historical and traditionary among us, but was held, in the old time, to be as effectual an agent in the promotion of good citizenship, as ever was the guillotine among the terrorists of France. It was, in short, the platform of the pillory; and above it rose the framework of that instrument of discipline, so fashioned as to confine the human head in its tight grasp, and thus hold it up to the public gaze. The very ideal of ignominy was embodied and made manifest in this contrivance of wood and iron. There can be no outrage, methinks, against our common nature,—whatever be the delinquencies of the individual,—no outrage more flagrant than to forbid the culprit to hide his face for shame; as it was the essence of this punishment to do. In Hester Prynne’s instance, however, as not unfrequently in other cases, her sentence bore, that she should stand a certain time upon the platform, but without undergoing that gripe about the neck and confinement of the head, the proneness to which was the most devilish characteristic of this ugly engine. Knowing well her part, she ascended a flight of wooden steps, and was thus displayed to the surrounding multitude, at about the height of a man’s shoulders above the street.   Had there been a Papist among the crowd of Puritans, he might have seen in this beautiful woman, so picturesque in her attire and mien, and with the infant at her bosom, an object to remind him of the image of Divine Maternity, which so many illustrious painters have vied with one another to represent; something which should remind him, indeed, but only by contrast, of that sacred image of sinless motherhood, whose infant was to redeem the world. Here, there was the taint of deepest sin in the most sacred quality of human life, working such effect, that the world was only the darker for this woman’s beauty, and the more lost for the infant that she had borne.   The scene was not without a mixture of awe, such as must always invest the spectacle of guilt and shame in a fellow-creature, before society shall have grown corrupt enough to smile, instead of shuddering, at it. The witnesses of Hester Prynne’s disgrace had not yet passed beyond their simplicity. They were stern enough to look upon her death, had that been the sentence, without a murmur at its severity, but had none of the heartlessness of another social state, which would find only a theme for jest in an exhibition like the present. Even had there been a disposition to turn the matter into ridicule, it must have been repressed and overpowered by the solemn presence of men no less dignified than the Governor, and several of his counsellors, a judge, a general, and the ministers of the town; all of whom sat or stood in a balcony of the meeting-house, looking down upon the platform. When such personages could constitute a part of the spectacle, without risking the majesty or reverence of rank and office, it was safely to be inferred that the infliction of a legal sentence would have an earnest and effectual meaning. Accordingly, the crowd was sombre and grave. The unhappy culprit sustained herself as best a woman might, under the heavy weight of a thousand unrelenting eyes, all fastened upon her, and concentrated at her bosom. It was almost intolerable to be borne. Of an impulsive and passionate nature, she had fortified herself to encounter the stings and venomous stabs of public contumely, wreaking itself in every variety of insult; but there was a quality so much more terrible in the solemn mood of the popular mind, that she longed rather to behold all those rigid countenances contorted with scornful merriment, and herself the object. Had a roar of laughter burst from the multitude,—each man, each woman, each little shrill-voiced child, contributing their individual parts,—Hester Prynne might have repaid them all with a bitter and disdainful smile. But, under the leaden infliction which it was her doom to endure, she felt, at moments, as if she must needs shriek out with the full power of her lungs, and cast herself from the scaffold down upon the ground, or else go mad at once.   Yet there were intervals when the whole scene, in which she was the most conspicuous object, seemed to vanish from her eyes, or, at least, glimmered indistinctly before them, like a mass of imperfectly shaped and spectral images. Her mind, and especially her memory, was preternaturally active, and kept bringing up other scenes than this roughly hewn street of a little town, on the edge of the Western wilderness; other faces than were lowering upon her from beneath the brims of those steeple-crowned hats. Reminiscences, the most trifling and immaterial, passages of infancy and school-days, sports, childish quarrels, and the little domestic traits of her maiden years, came swarming back upon her, intermingled with recollections of whatever was gravest in her subsequent life; one picture precisely as vivid as another; as if all were of similar importance, or all alike a play. Possibly, it was an instinctive device of her spirit to relieve itself, by the exhibition of these phantasmagoric forms, from the cruel weight and hardness of the reality.   Be that as it might, the scaffold of the pillory was a point of view that revealed to Hester Prynne the entire track along which she had been treading, since her happy infancy. Standing on that miserable eminence, she saw again her native village, in Old England, and her paternal home; a decayed house of gray stone, with a poverty-stricken aspect, but retaining a half-obliterated shield of arms over the portal, in token of antique gentility. She saw her father’s face, with its bold brow, and reverend white beard, that flowed over the old-fashioned Elizabethan ruff; her mother’s, too, with the look of heedful and anxious love which it always wore in her remembrance, and which, even since her death, had so often laid the impediment of a gentle remonstrance in her daughter’s pathway. She saw her own face, glowing with girlish beauty, and illuminating all the interior of the dusky mirror in which she had been wont to gaze at it. There she beheld another countenance, of a man well stricken in years, a pale, thin, scholar-like visage, with eyes dim and bleared by the lamp-light that had served them to pore over many ponderous books. Yet those same bleared optics had a strange, penetrating power, when it was their owner’s purpose to read the human soul. This figure of the study and the cloister, as Hester Prynne’s womanly fancy failed not to recall, was slightly deformed, with the left shoulder a trifle higher than the right. Next rose before her, in memory’s picture-gallery, the intricate and narrow thoroughfares, the tall, gray houses, the huge cathedrals, and the public edifices, ancient in date and quaint in architecture, of a Continental city; where a new life had awaited her, still in connection with the misshapen scholar; a new life, but feeding itself on time-worn materials, like a tuft of green moss on a crumbling wall. Lastly, in lieu of these shifting scenes, came back the rude market-place of the Puritan settlement, with all the townspeople assembled and levelling their stern regards at Hester Prynne,—yes, at herself,—who stood on the scaffold of the pillory, an infant on her arm, and the letter A, in scarlet, fantastically embroidered with gold thread, upon her bosom!   Could it be true? She clutched the child so fiercely to her breast, that it sent forth a cry; she turned her eyes downward at the scarlet letter, and even touched it with her finger, to assure herself that the infant and the shame were real. Yes!—these were her realities,—all else had vanished!   Hester Prynne had been standing on her pedestal, still with a fixed gaze towards the stranger; so fixed a gaze, that, at moments of intense absorption, all other objects in the visible world seemed to vanish, leaving only him and her. Such an interview, perhaps, would have been more terrible than even to meet him as she now did, with the hot, mid-day sun burning down upon her face, and lighting up its shame; with the scarlet token of infamy on her breast; with the sin-born infant in her arms; with a whole people, drawn forth as to a festival, staring at the features that should have been seen only in the quiet gleam of the fireside, in the happy shadow of a home, or beneath a matronly veil, at church. Dreadful as it was, she was conscious of a shelter in the presence of these thousand witnesses. It was better to stand thus, with so many betwixt him and her, than to greet him, face to face, they two alone. She fled for refuge, as it were, to the public exposure, and dreaded the moment when its protection should be withdrawn from her. Involved in these thoughts, she scarcely heard a voice behind her, until it had repeated her name more than once, in a loud and solemn tone, audible to the whole multitude.   “Hearken unto me, Hester Prynne!” said the voice.   It has already been noticed, that directly over the platform on which Hester Prynne stood was a kind of balcony, or open gallery, appended to the meeting-house. It was the place whence proclamations were wont to be made, amidst an assemblage of the magistracy, with all the ceremonial that attended such public observances in those days. Here, to witness the scene which we are describing, sat Governor Bellingham himself, with four sergeants about his chair, bearing halberds, as a guard of honor. He wore a dark feather in his hat, a border of embroidery on his cloak, and a black velvet tunic beneath; a gentleman advanced in years, and with a hard experience written in his wrinkles. He was not ill fitted to be the head and representative of a community, which owed its origin and progress, and its present state of development, not to the impulses of youth, but to the stern and tempered energies of manhood, and the sombre sagacity of age; accomplishing so much, precisely because it imagined and hoped so little. The other eminent characters, by whom the chief ruler was surrounded, were distinguished by a dignity of mien, belonging to a period when the forms of authority were felt to possess the sacredness of divine institutions. They were, doubtless, good men, just, and sage. But, out of the whole human family, it would not have been easy to select the same number of wise and virtuous persons, who should he less capable of sitting in judgment on an erring woman’s heart, and disentangling its mesh of good and evil, than the sages of rigid aspect towards whom Hester Prynne now turned her face. She seemed conscious, indeed, that whatever sympathy she might expect lay in the larger and warmer heart of the multitude; for, as she lifted her eyes towards the balcony, the unhappy woman grew pale and trembled.   The voice which had called her attention was that of the reverend and famous John Wilson, the eldest clergyman of Boston, a great scholar, like most of his contemporaries in the profession, and withal a man of kind and genial spirit. This last attribute, however, had been less carefully developed than his intellectual gifts, and was, in truth, rather a matter of shame than self-congratulation with him. There he stood, with a border of grizzled locks beneath his skull-cap; while his gray eyes, accustomed to the shaded light of his study, were winking, like those of Hester’s infant, in the unadulterated sunshine. He looked like the darkly engraved portraits which we see prefixed to old volumes of sermons; and had no more right than one of those portraits would have, to step forth, as he now did, and meddle with a question of human guilt, passion, and anguish.   “Hester Prynne,” said the clergyman, “I have striven with my young brother here, under whose preaching of the word you have been privileged to sit,”—here Mr. Wilson laid his hand on the shoulder of a pale young man beside him,—“I have sought, I say, to persuade this godly youth, that he should deal with you, here in the face of Heaven, and before these wise and upright rulers, and in hearing of all the people, as touching the vileness and blackness of your sin. Knowing your natural temper better than I, he could the better judge what arguments to use, whether of tenderness or terror, such as might prevail over your hardness and obstinacy; insomuch that you should no longer hide the name of him who tempted you to this grievous fall. But he opposes to me, (with a young man’s oversoftness, albeit wise beyond his years,) that it were wronging the very nature of woman to force her to lay open her heart’s secrets in such broad daylight, and in presence of so great a multitude. Truly, as I sought to convince him, the shame lay in the commission of the sin, and not in the showing of it forth. What say you to it, once again, brother Dimmesdale? Must it be thou or I that shall deal with this poor sinner’s soul?”   There was a murmur among the dignified and reverend occupants of the balcony; and Governor Bellingham gave expression to its purport, speaking in an authoritative voice, although tempered with respect towards the youthful clergyman whom he addressed.   “Good Master Dimmesdale,” said he, “the responsibility of this woman’s soul lies greatly with you. It behooves you, therefore, to exhort her to repentance, and to confession, as a proof and consequence thereof.”   The directness of this appeal drew the eyes of the whole crowd upon the Reverend Mr. Dimmesdale; young clergyman, who had come from one of the great English universities, bringing all the learning of the age into our wild forest-land. His eloquence and religious fervor had already given the earnest of high eminence in his profession. He was a person of very striking aspect, with a white, lofty, and impending brow, large, brown, melancholy eyes, and a mouth which, unless when he forcibly compressed it, was apt to be tremulous, expressing both nervous sensibility and a vast power of self-restraint. Notwithstanding his high native gifts and scholar-like attainments, there was an air about this young minister,—an apprehensive, a startled, a half-frightened look,—as of a being who felt himself quite astray and at a loss in the pathway of human existence, and could only be at ease in some seclusion of his own. Therefore, so far as his duties would permit, he trode in the shadowy by-paths, and thus kept himself simple and childlike; coming forth, when occasion was, with a freshness, and fragrance, and dewy purity of thought, which, as many people said, affected them like the speech of an angel.   Such was the young man whom the Reverend Mr. Wilson and the Governor had introduced so openly to the public notice, bidding him speak, in the hearing of all men, to that mystery of a woman’s soul, so sacred even in its pollution. The trying nature of his position drove the blood from his cheek, and made his lips tremulous.   “Speak to the woman, my brother,” said Mr. Wilson. “It is of moment to her soul, and therefore, as the worshipful Governor says, momentous to thine own, in whose charge hers is. Exhort her to confess the truth!”   The Reverend Mr. Dimmesdale bent his head, in silent prayer, as it seemed, and then came forward.   “Hester Prynne,” said he, leaning over the balcony, and looking down stedfastly into her eyes, “thou hearest what this good man says, and seest the accountability under which I labor. If thou feelest it to be for thy soul’s peace, and that thy earthly punishment will thereby be made more effectual to salvation, I charge thee to speak out the name of thy fellow-sinner and fellow-sufferer! Be not silent from any mistaken pity and tenderness for him; for, believe me, Hester, though he were to step down from a high place, and stand there beside thee, on thy pedestal of shame, yet better were it so, than to hide a guilty heart through life. What can thy silence do for him, except it tempt him—yea, compel him, as it were—to add hypocrisy to sin? Heaven hath granted thee an open ignominy, that thereby thou mayest work out an open triumph over the evil within thee, and the sorrow without. Take heed how thou deniest to him—who, perchance, hath not the courage to grasp it for himself—the bitter, but wholesome, cup that is now presented to thy lips!”   The young pastor’s voice was tremulously sweet, rich, deep, and broken. The feeling that it so evidently manifested, rather than the direct purport of the words, caused it to vibrate within all hearts, and brought the listeners into one accord of sympathy. Even the poor baby, at Hester’s bosom, was affected by the same influence; for it directed its hitherto vacant gaze towards Mr. Dimmesdale, and held up its little arms, with a half pleased, half plaintive murmur. So powerful seemed the minister’s appeal, that the people could not believe but that Hester Prynne would speak out the guilty name; or else that the guilty one himself, in whatever high or lowly place he stood, would be drawn forth by an inward and inevitable necessity, and compelled to ascend the scaffold.   Hester shook her head.   “Woman, transgress not beyond the limits of Heaven’s mercy!” cried the Reverend Mr. Wilson, more harshly than before. “That little babe hath been gifted with a voice, to second and confirm the counsel which thou hast heard. Speak out the name! That, and thy repentance, may avail to take the scarlet letter off thy breast.”   “Never!” replied Hester Prynne, looking, not at Mr. Wilson, but into the deep and troubled eyes of the younger clergyman. “It is too deeply branded. Ye cannot take it off. And would that I might endure his agony, as well as mine!”   “Speak, woman!” said another voice, coldly and sternly, proceeding from the crowd about the scaffold. “Speak; and give your child a father!”   “I will not speak!” answered Hester, turning pale as death, but responding to this voice, which she too surely recognized. “And my child must seek a heavenly Father; she shall never know an earthly one!”   “She will not speak!” murmured Mr. Dimmesdale, who, leaning over the balcony, with his hand upon his heart, had awaited the result of his appeal. He now drew back, with a long respiration. “Wondrous strength and generosity of a woman’s heart! She will not speak!”   Discerning the impracticable state of the poor culprit’s mind, the elder clergyman, who had carefully prepared himself for the occasion, addressed to the multitude a discourse on sin, in all its branches, but with continual reference to the ignominious letter. So forcibly did he dwell upon this symbol, for the hour or more during which his periods were rolling over the people’s heads, that it assumed new terrors in their imagination, and seemed to derive its scarlet hue from the flames of the infernal pit. Hester Prynne, meanwhile, kept her place upon the pedestal of shame, with glazed eyes, and an air of weary indifference. She had borne, that morning, all that nature could endure; and as her temperament was not of the order that escapes from too intense suffering by a swoon, her spirit could only shelter itself beneath a stony crust of insensibility, while the faculties of animal life remained entire. In this state, the voice of the preacher thundered remorselessly, but unavailingly, upon her ears. The infant, during the latter portion of her ordeal, pierced the air with its wailings and screams; she strove to hush it, mechanically, but seemed scarcely to sympathize with its trouble. With the same hard demeanour, she was led back to prison, and vanished from the public gaze within its iron-clamped portal. It was whispered, by those who peered after her, that the scarlet letter threw a lurid gleam along the dark passage-way of the interior.      

Author of Lit Up: One Reporter. Three Schools. Twenty-four Books That Can Change Lives   Interview starts at 14:49 and ends at 42:07 You worry about the next generation of readers. Is literature going to survive? It seems to be surviving at the moment, but the iPhone has been around since 2007, and the way that digital culture has taken over in those nine years is staggering. Its's much more comprehensive and thoroughgoing than anyone expected.   Intro The music of bluegrass legend Peter Rowan News “Apple Thinks It Can Win This Case at the Supreme Court” by Philip Elmer-DeWitt at Fortune - November 3, 2015 Apple's Supreme Court Petition for a Writ of Certiorari (PDF) - October 28, 2015  “Apple's $450 million e-books settlement gets final approval” by James Niccolai at PC World - November 22, 2016 “Scripps National Spelling Bee Announces Kindle as New Presenting Sponsor” - press release February 23, 2016 World's Most Admired Companies in 2016 - Fortune   Tech Tip Dave Slusher podcast episode of Evil Genius Chronicles in which he loses his Kindle and shuts it down via Amazon (starts at 31:50) Amazon Fire TV Device Software Updates   Interview with David Denby Lit Up: One Reporter. Three Schools. Twenty-four Books That Can Change Lives. by David Denby Snark: It's Mean, It's Personal, and It's Ruining Our Conversation by David Denby “Do Teens Read Seriously Anymore?” by David Denby at The New Yorker - February 23, 2016  “A Champion of the Humanities: David Denby” by Wendy Smith at Publishers Weekly - January 29, 2016 David Denby on NPR's “On Point” with Tom Ashbrook - February 11, 2016 Great Books by David Denby Freddy the Pig series by Walter R. Books (available free with Kindle Unlimited) Books mentioned by Sherry Turkle: Reclaiming Conversation: The Power of Talk in a Digital Age and Alone Together: Why We Expect More from Technology and Less from Each Other A Long Way Gone: Memoirs of a Boy Soldier by Ishmael Beah Spark Notes and CliffsNotes A Visit from the Goon Squad by Jennifer Egan Netherland: A Novel by Joseph O'Neill Emma by Jane Austin Middlemarch by George Eliot The Adventures of Huckleberry Finn by Mark Twain David Denby's review of “Wild” in The New Yorker - December 8, 2014 Wild: From Lost to Found on the Pacific Crest Trail by Cheryl Strayed Anna Karenina by Leo Tolstoy Washington Square by Henry James "The Heiress" (DVD) at Amazon.com “The Maltese Falcon” (Amazon video) “The Plot Against America: Donald Trump's Rhetoric” by David Denby at The New Yorker - December 15, 2016 “Stop Humiliating Teachers” by David Denby at The New Yorker - February 11, 2016   Content Winter Men, available for pre-order with delivery March 1, 2016. English Translator: K. E. Semmel CHI-RAQ, directed by Spike Lee, free to Prime members on Amazon Instant Video David Axelrod's podcast interview with Spike Lee on The Axe Files - November 30, 2015 Comments A suggestion for an improvement to Kindle for Mac   Next Week's Guest K. E. Semmel, English translator of Winter Men by Jesper Bugge Kold   Music for my podcast is from an original Thelonius Monk composition named "Well, You Needn't." This version is "Ra-Monk" by Eval Manigat on the "Variations in Time: A Jazz Persepctive" CD by Public Transit Recording" CD.    Please Join the Kindle Chronicles group at Goodreads!

While I have not seen the movie, I do know from talking to some teens that the new film Pride and Prejudice Zombies has actually inspired kids to ask questions about Pride and Prejudice and Jane Austin.It's a surprise that in our media saturated culture, at a time when texting seems like long form communications, compared to Instagram, many kids are still interested in reading.How is this possible? Long time New Yorker staff writer and film critic David Denby went back to High School to find out how students begin to appreciate reading and to see if screen obsessed teens can actually be inculcated in the pleasures of reading. The result is Lit Up: One Reporter. Three Schools. Twenty-four Books That Can Change Lives.  My conversation with David Denby:

We could call this memo, “The Poodle and The Vamp, Part Two,” but we won't. No one likes the sequel quite so much as they liked http://mondaymemo.wpengine.com/newsletters/the-poodle-and-the-vamp (the original.) Talent isn't rare. Our world overflows with worthy talent that continues day-to-day unrecognized. I'll wager that you possess such talent. There is something you're capable of doing, I'll bet, that could make you famous around the world. Your fame might even happen in a whoosh, the way it did for Billy, Tom, and Ted. Billy Graham started preaching in 1947. In 1949, Billy set up a circus tent in Los Angeles, certainly not the first to do so. So there he was, night after night, just another preacher with a tent, when two words forever altered the trajectory of his life: “Puff Graham.” William Randolph Hearst, the newspaper mogul who inspired the movie, Citizen Kane, sent that unexplained, 2-word telegram to every editor at every newspaper he owned in America. The next day, papers from coast to coast were glowing with stories about this Christian minister. Hearst never told the papers to quit puffing Graham. And they never did. In his book, Just as I Am, Billy Graham says he never learned why Hearst took an interest in him. “Hearst and I did not meet, talk by phone, or correspond as long as he lived.” Billy Graham was, and is, remarkably talented. But so are 10,000 other ministers. Every poodle needs a vamp. “Tom Clancy was an insurance salesman in Maryland when, in the early nineteen-eighties, he wrote a book, ‘The Hunt for Red October,' that Ronald Reagan, with a handsome public mention, turned into a best-seller. Clancy's career took off like, well, like one of his rockets. Too nearsighted to serve in the armed forces, Clancy, who kept a tank on his front lawn, was a military fantasist whose end-is-nigh concoctions spawned a franchise…” – David Denby, The New Yorker, Jan. 20, 2014, p. 78 Reagan played vamp for Tom Clancy just as Hearst did for Billy Graham. But what about Teddy Roosevelt? Wasn't he one of the most popular and beloved presidents in the history of the United States? Nope. Not really. His policies and decisions were as hotly debated as those of Barack Obama today. We think of Roosevelt as “one of the great ones” primarily because his monumental face watches over America from Mount Rushmore along with Washington, Jefferson and Lincoln, the undisputed big boys of American history. Roosevelt's vamp was Gutzon Borglum. Borglum was not commissioned by the government to create Mount Rushmore. It was a private work begun by a private individual. And that individual was a buddy of Ted Roosevelt back when Teddy was still alive. Roosevelt had been gone for only 8 years when Borglum began his carving. If Gutzon Borglum was only just now beginning to carve that granite in South Dakota, he might chose Washington, Jefferson, Lincoln and Carter because Gutzon answered to no one but himself. That is the power of a vamp. Do you believe in someone? Vamp for them. The Wizard of Ads partners are known throughout the Engish-speaking world because we have agreed upon a covenant: Never boast of your own accomplishments but only those of your partners. “You vamp for me. I'll vamp for you.” It's called “third party credibility,” or at least it used to be. Today they call it “feedback,” “comments” and “customer reviews.” Billy, Tom and Ted went viral before it had a name. But one thing remains the same: A poodle needs a vamp. Every business is a poodle. Every ad writer is a vamp. How good is yours? Roy H. Williams

The dark knight rises...RC-2013-111: No Country for Old Men (2007) Your browser does not support this audioLet's call this episode "The Roger Ebert Memorial Commentary." The prolific critic felt No Country for Old Men was as good as any picture made by the Coens (and in the very next clause he warmed my heart by adding, "and they made Fargo.") Still giddy from a recent revival screening, I quit swooning long enough to explicate a lot of what makes this movie so great. I describe the skillful visual storytelling techniques, the strange deja vu structure, and the philosophical concerns found in the works of both the Coens and Cormac McCarthy. I sing the praises of Woody Harrelson, too. Then, after taking some of the more asinine criticisms and interpretations to task, I get around to articulating my own reading of the film (sort of). This one's for Roger.Show NotesThat super-comprehensive Wikipedia page on the film's themes and analysisAn example of some slightly less-than-thoughtful criticism of NCFOM, along with a withering rebuttal to said criticismDavid Denby's review in which he wonders why Llewelyn didn't get a death sceneA cool Coen Bros. fan siteMcCarthy's two-man play, The Sunset LimitedA Sight & Sound essay on NCFOMListen to the mp3. Or get the track at the gettin' place, iTunes.

This week: Playwright & “Seven Psychopaths” filmmaker Martin McDonagh laughs in the face of death… TV legend Ed Asner calls us out… Mary Elizabeth Winstead lists some sobering cinema… ’5 under 35′ honoree Justin Torres reads from his celebrated novella… New Yorker critic David Denby divines film’s future… and Brendan seeks the *real* American cheese. Plus, a historic Niagara fall, a crushed dinosaur dream, and a wild new track from Tame Impala.

Part A features our Bullets in the Chamber segment. We talk Review Embargos, Girl with a Dragon Tattoo, Kevin Smith's Red State, IFC's Portlandia, Netflix, Verizon and finish up with our award winning movie game, Red Light, Green Light.

Kim and John discuss the dust-up between producer Scott Rudin and film critic David Denby, over violation of an agreement to hold the review until the movie's release.