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How to Read Like a History-Buff Middle East Reporter

By ROBERT F. WORTH

Robert F. Worth, a contributing writer, last wrote for the magazine about the security challenges facing American diplomats abroad.

Book I’m reading now:

“Kaputt,” by Curzio Malaparte. This is a fascinating and gruesome first-hand account of the Eastern front in World War II. What makes it unusual is Malaparte’s perspective: as an Italian diplomat and journalist he was given full access to the Axis war effort. He witnesses a savage pogrom in Romania where thousands of Jews are murdered, and recounts cozy state dinners with the Nazi elite, where the guests laugh about mass murder and gorge themselves on roast boar and venison. Malaparte is not a scrupulous witness; the dialogue has clearly been massaged in places to match his literary ambitions. But it’s a powerful book, even if partly fictional.

Last book I loved:

Probably “Naples ’44,” by Norman Lewis. This is a short, spectacularly vivid account of the Anglo-American invasion of southern Italy in 1943. Lewis was a British intelligence officer, and he conjures up the suffering and humor of the Italians and the churlish incompetence of the invaders, with such poignancy and wit that I wanted to read every page twice (in fact I often did). His descriptions of the dirt-poor Neapolitan aristocrats who fed him information, and their outlandish schemes for political reform, had me laughing for days on end.

Unread book on my bedside table that gnaws at my conscience:

I have a bad habit of reading several books of history simultaneously. Here are three good books I’ve been working on for the better part of a year:

“Beirut,” by Samir Kassir
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Behind the Cover Story: Stephen Rodrick on Getting Access to Lindsay Lohan

By RACHEL NOLAN
Stephen RodrickJeff Minton Stephen Rodrick

Stephen Rodrick, a contributing writer for the magazine, wrote this week’s cover article about the making of the movie “The Canyons,” which was directed by Paul Schrader and includes Lindsay Lohan. Rodrick last wrote for the magazine about Martin Peretz, the long-time owner of The New Republic.

What surprised you the first time you met Lindsay Lohan?

The first time I met her was at a table read that she was already late for. Everyone else had long been in their seats. Paul Schrader had just given a lecture about how Lindsay thrived on chaos and, on cue, she walked into the room, hair tossed, smelling of smoke and bangles on her arm banging up and down. I scrawled “fragile” and “tornado” into my notebook. That sounds a bit melodramatic, so I didn’t put those words in the story, but she can be melodrama personified.

By the end of the time you spent with Lohan, had your impression of her changed?

There’s a scene in the story where she has to weep on camera, and she retreats to her room. And you could just hear wailing, and I describe her crying as sounding like a child lost in the woods with no chance of rescue. And that’s what I believe. She entered Hollywood as a child star with two massively dysfunctional parents who have filled their own Dr. Phil hours. She didn’t have a chance. For every Jodie Foster, there are five Lindsay Lohans.

But here’s the thing, there’s talent in there. She has that undefinable “it” quality. You can see it at certain moments in the film. The frustrating/tragic thing, and Lindsay would be the first to admit it, is getting that talent out of her over the past few years has been nearly impossible. That’s why I called the piece “The Misfits,” after Marilyn Monroe’s last film, one that Schrader and the crew were constantly talking about on set. You can’t argue that Lindsay has the talent or resume of Monroe, but there is that same feeling of talent slipping away, perhaps permanently.

What was the cast and crew’s reaction to Lohan?

It varied, but you could say it started it with awe, slid to amusement and ended with annoyance. You have to remember this was a grueling 21-day shoot, and everyone was working 12-hour days, many of them for $100 a day. If you have a star that is chronically late or constantly involved in some kind of drama, it wears on your nerves. There was a moment when Schrader and James Deen (Lohan’s co-star) argued about a scene in Malibu — a very rare occurrence­ — and Lohan chided Deen for disrespecting his director. There was much audible sighing and smacking of foreheads from the crew.
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How to Shoot a Viper

By JOANNA MILTER
A self-portrait of Brett Beyer using a boom rig.Brett Beyer for The New York Times A self-portrait of Brett Beyer using a boom rig.

For this week’s Look, we sent Brett Beyer to photograph the Chrysler auto plant in Detroit where the Dodge Viper is manufactured. Recently I spoke to Beyer about how he made his pictures.

How did you create the bird’s-eye image of the assembly line?

By using a boom rig that I built, I suspended the camera up near the ceiling, about 15 feet up. From down below, with a laptop computer, I controlled all the functions of the camera — the exposure, aperture and shutter speed. I moved the rig around the floor and covered the whole auto assembly line, section by section. Then, in the editing process, I took those images, those jigsaw pieces, if you will, and blended them together in Photoshop so it’s one continuous image.

What’s the advantage of this approach? Couldn’t you place the camera high above the plant floor and take one photograph using a wide-angle lens?

This is like a Google map of the inside of a building. Because of the ceiling height in the plant, the highest I could get my camera was about 15 feet up, which wouldn’t allow me to photograph that entire area with one shot. Also, if I did it in one shot, I’d have cables and lighting fixtures looming large in the foreground, which would block the view of the assembly line.

Two other images in the photo essay are also photo illustrations, right?

The two vertical images of the assembly line were made using a tilt-shift lens and three separate exposures. They were stitched together in Photoshop and are essentially vertical panoramas. I did this so I could capture more of the ceiling and floor space.

The photographer Andreas Gefeller uses the same shooting-overhead process that you did for the horizontal picture of the assembly line. Were you influenced by his work?

The first image that I ever saw using this technique was of an architecture studio by Iwan Baan. I’m also really influenced by images of sculptures by Gordon Matta Clark. It’s not completely analogous, but the way Clark would cut a building in half, then remove sections, and cobble together the remaining parts — I love the way he dealt with perspective as it related to architecture.

How long did it take you to capture the assembly line from overhead?

It was shot over two days. One thing I find interesting about doing this type of photograph is how I’m creating a photo over multiple days. This stretches my conception of what a photograph can be. Without the constraint of a single moment, I can create an experience of a place that is both real and constructed.

The Healing Power of Yoga Controversy

By WILLIAM J. BROAD
Gabrielle Plucknette/The New York Times

Adapted from the Afterword to “The Science of Yoga,” paperback edition.

When “The Science of Yoga” was published a year ago, it stirred more controversy than anything I’ve ever written as a science journalist. Before it came out, Bobby Clennell, my talented illustrator and a senior Iyengar teacher with a global following, told me that the book would start a conversation. The reality was more like a riot.

The outcry began when an excerpt ran in The Times Magazine in January 2012 under the headline “How Yoga Can Wreck Your Body.” A furious yogi shot back: “You are a wreck.” The excerpt was illustrated with photos of the Broadway cast of “Godspell” twisted into exaggerated poses. The postures were meant to be funny. But lots of yogis took offense. As a Chicago-based columnist remarked, the article provoked “more coverage, umbrage and yuppie outrage than the wars in Afghanistan and Iraq combined.”

Yoga for many people is a sacred refuge. But as I learned of the dangers, I felt an obligation to help people disentangle the good aspects of the practice from the bad. After all, yoga too often is sold as completely safe — “as safe as mother’s milk,” as a prominent guru once declared.

Most of the hundreds of e-mails and letters I received — from yoga teachers and celebrities, doctors and therapists, yoga schools and studio owners — since the excerpt’s appearance and the book’s publication were written in gratitude and support. Many described injuries. A teacher of nearly two decades wrote with elegant simplicity: “Thank you.”

Critics accused me of sensationalism. But the flurry of letters argued otherwise. People described damage like strokes, spinal stenosis, nerve injury, disk rupture and dead spinal tissue. “I am currently recovering from cervical fusion and will need a lifetime of physical therapy,” a former studio owner wrote. One of the saddest and most thoughtful letters came from an elderly man who studied with Iyengar in India for 16 years. His list of personal injuries included torn ligaments, damaged vertebrae, slipped disks, deformed knees and ruptured blood vessels in his brain. “All that you wrote,” he said, “I can confirm in my own life.”
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Two Very Different Stories of Murder, Faith and Forgiveness

By VERA TITUNIK
The Times Magazine, Jan. 6, 2013.Ryan Pfluger for The New York Times The Times Magazine, Jan. 6, 2013.

This week the magazine features a story, “Can Forgiveness Play a Role in Criminal Justice?” about parents whose deeply held religious faith leads them to forgive — and seek a lesser sentence for — their daughter’s murderer. The killer was no stranger to Kate and Andy Grosmaire; he was their daughter’s boyfriend and they loved him, which made forgiveness both difficult and necessary.

Then I read  ”God’s Nobodies,“ by Mark Obbie, in which religion creates an impediment to forgiveness. I don’t want to give too much away, but it is the story of a son who murders his mother, the grandmother who forgives him and the church community that can’t. Well worth reading and available as a Kindle Single.

Remembering Richard Ben Cramer

By MATT BAI
Matt Bai and Richard Ben Cramer speaking at Courtesy of the C.V. Starr Center for the Study of the American Experience Matt Bai and Richard Ben Cramer speaking at “Anatomy of an Election: Politics,” hosted by the C.V. Starr Center for the Study of the American Experience, Washington College, Sep. 18, 2012.

The first time I met Richard Ben Cramer, who died this week at 62, I was seeking his advice about a book I wanted to write, and so I called and invited myself down to Maryland’s Eastern Shore. That’s where Richard lived, about a two-hour drive from Washington, in a couple of weathered farmhouses – one for living with his companion at the time and later his wife, Joan, and one for writing. He said sure, come anytime and we would get lunch, he wasn’t doing much of anything, which of course was never true.

I must have been nervous, because when I got there the following week, I realized that for the first time I could remember, I’d left home without my wallet. I was mortified. I had arrived at the great writer’s house, having imposed on his time, and I couldn’t even buy my own lunch, let alone his. Richard waved away my embarrassment without a word. He bought me a burger and then suggested we get ice cream, which we ate while walking the streets of Chestertown, talking about the craft of writing and the scourge of editors.

Richard Ben Cramer celebrates with colleagues in the Philadelphia Inquirer city room after winning the Pulitzer Prize for his reporting in the Middle East, Apr. 16, 1979.Associated Press Richard Ben Cramer celebrates with colleagues in the Philadelphia Inquirer city room after winning the Pulitzer Prize for his reporting in the Middle East, Apr. 16, 1979.

This was the secret of Richard’s genius, the reason he got more out of his subjects – political and other – than his journalistic contemporaries, and there was really no secret to it at all. He liked people, approached them with genuine curiosity and gave them the benefit of the doubt and never got caught up in pettiness. People told him things because they knew he was actually listening.

Richard will be best remembered for “What It Takes,” his breathtaking book about the 1988 campaign and modern politics, and with good reason. Here’s an essay I wrote about it for the Book Review in 2007, on the 20th anniversary of that campaign. But if you love great profiles, it’s worth reading Richard’s other work, too; my favorite is his portrait of the aged, cantankerous slugger in “How Do You Like Ted Williams Now?” Your answer, after reading, may be “not so much,” but to Richard, there was good and frailty in us all.

Are Jokes Something You Have to Work At?

By THE STAFF

Jonah Weiner’s profile of Jerry Seinfeld in our Dec. 23 issue elicited 303 responses from readers, many of whom debated whether the comedian is even funny. Said one: “Jerry is safe, solid, and smooth. . . . he lulls the listener to a laugh.” Said another: “His talent is unparalleled: no curse words, simple everyday observations, turned into exquisite narrative.”

In a video that accompanied the article online, Seinfeld explained how his jokes are the result of many revisions. One respondent took issue with this process, saying, “A good joke comes to you; it doesn’t require endless polishing.” Most, however, whether or not they love Seinfeld’s particular brand of humor, agreed that his work ethic is admirable.

So, is Seinfeld funny? Is his work ethic . . . too much? Post your thoughts in the comments section.

This graphic appeared on the Reply All page in the magazine’s Jan. 6 issue.

The Inspiration Behind ‘This by That’

By MARNIE HANEL

We call the minicolumn “This by That,” the postage-stamp-size chart I compile weekly for the One Page Magazine, because it’s just that simple. (It was also the subject line of my first pitch list.) That isn’t to say I’m not stumped sometimes. (I’m always open to challenges. Please tweet @MarnieHanel to throw down.) Other times, I can’t turn off the rubric. This week I opened my refrigerator and thought, “Leftovers by Dinner Permutations.” But no one wants to read that.

Originally, I saw “This by That” as a way to poke fun at the chart-as-form, but after a year I confess I delight in its minimalism. With “Nora Ephron Films by Featured Foods,” I had a chance to issue my own tribute, nod to the writer-director’s love of dishes as comforting as her work and challenge the designer to illustrate a teensy sole meunière. All this in 28 words!

“This by That” often answers a question I’ve asked myself. When Elizabeth Taylor’s jewels were auctioned at Christie’s, I wondered which of her paramours had gifted the biggest haul. I pored over the auction catalog and found it was Richard Burton, by a landside. As the Public Theater’s Shakespeare in the Park turned 50 this summer, I considered which play had been produced most frequently. Was it “Macbeth”? “King Lear”? Strangely, no. It was the one about the nun, “Measure for Measure.”

The charts are also inspired by interesting data sets. It was a good day when the Academy of Motion Picture Arts and Sciences uploaded transcripts of every Oscars acceptance speech since 1971.

Personal events and holidays are jumping off points, too. We ran “Filmic New Year’s Eve Kisses by Duration (in Seconds)” last New Year’s Day, the Sunday after my own wedding. On April 15, I counted bean varieties, from L.L. Bean Boots to Beanie Babies, for “Tax Day Edition: Beans by Count.” Christmastime got “Rockefeller Center Christmas Trees’ Average Height by Decade.” So you’d think I might have considered the holiday that celebrates the most loyal reader of “This by That.” I can assure you, until I received that phone call on Mother’s Day, that I did not realize the unfortunate timing of “Venomous Animal Encounters by Seconds Till Death.” Sorry, Mom.

Behind the Cover Story: Joel Lovell on the Short-Story Genius George Saunders

By RACHEL NOLAN
Joel LovellGabrielle Plucknette/The New York Times Joel Lovell

Joel Lovell, deputy editor at The Times Magazine, wrote this week’s cover story about the writer George Saunders. He last wrote for the magazine about the playwright Kenneth Lonergan.

How did this article come about?

It was my idea, but Hugo, the editor in chief, was game for it from the start, which was very cool, because putting a short-story writer on the cover of the magazine isn’t the most obvious thing to do. I’ve loved George’s work for a long time, both fiction and nonfiction, and I read a galley of “Tenth of December” back in September and was just so floored by it. I’d read several of the stories already when they appeared in The New Yorker or elsewhere. But there was something about the experience of reading them in succession — a kind of giddiness came over me realizing that it was a rare book. It was doing things that, as far as I know, hadn’t been done in fiction before. And that made me want to do a piece that was just honest in its enthusiasm for him and his genius. I think those sorts of stories — celebrations of people who aren’t especially famous but deserve to be celebrated — don’t get done very much in magazines anymore. Probably because it’s really hard to do them without sounding like a dope, which I was pretty nervous about in this case, too.

When did you first read Saunders?

I can tell you exactly when I first read him. I was in graduate school, in the M.F.A. program at the University of Michigan, and Harper’s Magazine published a story called “The 400-Pound C.E.O.” Harper’s was the one magazine I subscribed to at the time, and I remember getting it and sitting in a coffee shop called Amir’s and reading that story and thinking that I’d never read anything like that before. It wasn’t as if I were super well read or anything, but I’d read a bunch of contemporary short stories, and this was from another planet. Here’s the first line: “At noon another load of raccoons comes in and Claude takes them out back of the office and executes them with a tire iron.” I mean . . .
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How We Create Those ‘Compare & Contrast’ Columns

By ERIC SPITZNAGEL

Eric Spitznagel, who writes the Compare & Contrast column for The One-Page Magazine, asks and answers his own questions about his process.

So how do you write these things?

It usually begins with a very sophisticated e-mail exchange between myself and my ridiculously intelligent and handsome editor, Jon Kelly. He’ll make a suggestion like: “Maybe something with Wolf Blitzer? That dude cracks me up with all his goofy glasses.” From there, my job is to find a person, place or thing that has nothing whatsoever in common with Wolf Blitzer other than that his/her/its name is vaguely phonetically similar. I’ll assail him with ideas like “Wolf Blitzer versus Blitzkriegs.” Or “Wolf Blitzer versus Wolfman Jack, or the fictional monster Wolfman.” And then he’ll come back with, “Or how about the Minnesota Timberwolves?” We’ll both get briefly excited, having somehow convinced ourselves that we’re comedy geniuses. But then eventually one of us will point out that everything we’ve come up with thus far is kinda stupid. So then we’ll scrap it and look for another idea, and repeat the process until we find a comparison that’s genuinely funny, or we just run out of time and finish the thing in a panic. Writing a Compare & Contrast is not unlike sex in a marriage after three decades. Sometimes you gotta fake it till you make it.

Are some comparisons more difficult than others?

Holy lord, yes. Objects in general are difficult to make funny. Sometimes you’ll get a subject like Petraeus vs. Prometheus, and it writes itself, because both the General and Greek god have personalities and quirks that are easy to make fun of. But what about Lena Dunham vs. Lean Cuisine? Dunham is a no brainer. Anyone who films herself eating cupcakes in a bathtub is begging for mockery. But a low-cal frozen meal? What do you do with that? How much comedy can you wring out of high-sodium content? You can Google Lean Cuisine all day, and you’re not going to find much fodder for satire. “Hey, remember when they released a line of Zesty Selections in 2001? That was . . . weird, right?” Those kinds of dead ends can make a writer cry himself to sleep at night.

Each Compare & Contrast ends with a “winner.” How exactly is that determined?

It’s all very scientific. These decisions are carefully weighed by a think tank of social scientists and cultural experts, who come to a decision after no less than a 48-hour period of intense debate, much like “12 Angry Men,” but with more yelling. The results are usually uncontested, but in rare cases, like the controversial “tie” between Angela Merkel and Angela Lansbury, the votes are audited by accounting firm PriceWaterhouseCoopers.

Are you lying?

Absolutely. Like the comparison itself, the results are arbitrary and pointless. You want a winner in a hypothetical battle between François Hollande and the Holland Tunnel? Or Shaquille O’Neal and the Shake Shack? That’s like asking if an apple is better than a chair.