Sunday Best is a brand new feature here at TIG that we plan on making a recurring one. Each Sunday, we will bring you a cross-section of interesting articles, links, ideas, music, culture, and anything else we think might be interesting or entertaining⏤the perfect supplement to your Sunday and one we hope you will add to your routine.
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take me away
Somewhere near the center of Nevada, on the western slope of the Toiyabe Range, there’s a little meadow beside a creek running down from the mountains. In 2019, long before I had ever been there, a man named James Fredette drove his mobile home down the gravel road from the highway and went fishing. It was a lucky day: He caught three big rainbow trout. Then, as the light turned golden and began to fade from the canyon while Fredette packed up his gear, he thought, why not, and walked back down to the creek to try his luck panning for gold. He turned up a few nuggets, right there. Yes, it was a very lucky day.
What gives you a sense of awe? That word, awe—the feeling of being in the presence of something vast that transcends your understanding of the world—is often associated with the extraordinary. You might imagine standing next to a 350-foot-tall tree or on a wide-open plain with a storm approaching, or hearing an electric guitar fill the space of an arena, or holding the tiny finger of a newborn baby.
“Time — a few centuries here or there — means very little in the world of poems.” There is something reassuring about Mary Oliver’s words. Especially in an era of rapid change, there is comfort to be had in those things that move slowly. But oceans rise and mountains fall; nothing stays the same. Not even the way poetry is made.
YOU WOULDN’T think that just 12 days before Christmas, we would be still so busy with work, but things are a bit unusual this year. By the of the week, though, everything should be wrapped up and we’ll be ready for some much-needed time off for a while before the new year begins. Perhaps we’ll get some time away soon⏤it seems about time⏤if last night’s dream was any indication ...
During one of my more desperate phases as a young novelist, I began to question whether I should actually be writing my own stories. I was deeply uninterested at the time in anything that resembled a plot, but I acknowledged that if I wanted to attain any sort of literary success I would need to tell a story that had a distinct beginning, middle, and end.
The first thing that strikes me about Anna Sorokin when I meet her in person — after reading about her and watching Julia Garner play her with that elaborate Euro accent — is how regular she is. There’s nothing particularly charming or memorable about her, she’s not a smooth talker, and she’s not really stylish. But she is, in person, surprisingly deadpan funny. Having been behind bars for nearly five years (19 months in Rikers, 21 months in state prison, then 18 months in ICE detention), she has quite a sense of humor about being Anna Delvey.
In January 2021, 18 months after a sticky divorce, I bought a house. I bought it partly because I could – my ex-wife and I had got lucky on the property ladder and walked away with enough money for a deposit each. But also, I bought it because I was desperate. With shared custody of our two-year-old daughter, I needed a place where she could be happy and where I could get back on my feet.
Many science students may imagine a ball rolling down a hill or a car skidding because of friction as prototypical examples of the systems physicists care about. But much of modern physics consists of searching for objects and phenomena that are virtually invisible: the tiny electrons of quantum physics and the particles hidden within strange metals of materials science along with their highly energetic counterparts that only exist briefly within giant particle colliders.
On March 9, 1945, an armada of more than three hundred B-29s flew fifteen hundred miles across the Pacific to attack Tokyo from the air. The planes carried incendiary bombs to be dropped at low altitudes. Beginning shortly after midnight, sixteen hundred and sixty-five tons of bombs fell on the city.
NOW THAT WE'RE updating the TIG Instagram a lot less, we thought we'd begin posting our favourite snapshots here, like we used to. Just because we're not using our social media platforms as much as before does not mean we've stopped making beautiful memories or taking beautiful photos, and since this is, in essence, the scrapbook of lives, why not here?
Then everything falls away.
The world for a little longer
is something to see, then only something to hear,
crickets, cicadas.
Or to smell sometimes, aroma of lemon trees, of orange trees.
Then sleep takes this away also.
LAST WEEK WE featured the Hudson Valley home of Deborah Needleman and while we were researching her place, we came across Villa Arniano on Needleman's Instagram: "Back from a week at the house of my dreams—the Tuscan idyll of @camillaguinness. Spent a few days with @jacobwe, @skyegyngell, @davidprior, @holly_gore and my daughter Lily Weisberg who doesn’t bother herself with social media, and then a few days with #camillaguinness, @amberguinness and @macmillandavidmb languorous, long summer days eating (really well) reading, chatting , swimming and napping. I was so blissed out I didn’t take any pictures, so these are lifted from Camilla and Amber’s Instagram as well from @arnianopaintingschool the week-long painting workshops Amber runs here with her friend @willropercurzon"
AT THE BEGINNING of 2020, athleisure was (still) the prevailing fashion movement: Nikes with long cream-coloured coats; blazers or camel coats over tracksuits; oversized blazers over hoodies and baseball caps with trenches. We're entering the third year of this pandemic⏤are you still in your sweats or are you ready to dress up again?