The Week In Recommendations 6.28.23

A buzzy novel about a young woman grifter, a buzzy podcast about a young woman grifter, a midi summer dress and the perfect baseball cap.

This is the free edition of Rich Text, a newsletter about cultural obsessions from your Internet BFFs Emma and Claire. If you like what you see and hear, consider becoming a paid subscriber. Our latest podcast was about the return of “And Just Like That” season 2! Rich Text is a reader-supported project — no ads or sponsors!

We’ve been reading…

Essays about allegedly overrated things (“The Case Against Travel” by Agnes Callard and “Against Exercise Machines" by Hamilton Nolan), which were all the rage on my Twitter timeline this week.

Callard, the philosopher behind such notorious and controversial takes as “I throw out my children’s Halloween candy every year and I have no regrets” and “philosophy is what happens when I leave my husband for my graduate student,” published her critique of travel in the New Yorker and promptly enraged half the people I follow on social media. As someone who has often wondered if I can justify recreational long-distance travel given the carbon footprint of a single plane ride, I was surprised to find that the essay doesn’t really touch on this. There is, however, an abundance of Fernando Pessoa quotations (“Only extreme poverty of the imagination justifies having to move around to feel”) and anecdotes from her own, apparently uninspired and uninspiring, trips. It’s not a terribly airtight case, though I am sympathetic to her angle and even think she hits on some fruitful points in contrasting the virtuous gloss we put on our own travel with the somewhat empty reality of most travel, which involves little true change, enrichment, or even deep engagement with the tourists’ surroundings.

Nolan, the erstwhile resident fitness crank at old Gawker, dusted off some fitness crankery over at Slate this week, publishing an anti-treadmill diatribe that managed to perfectly mingle a seductive critique of capitalism (how is it that a whole industry exists to sell us multi-thousand-dollar machines to move our bodies around, something humans have been doing for free since time immemorial?) with an infuriating refusal to engage with the many reasons, aside from “being tricked by capitalism,” why people might exercise in a way other than lifting rocks and running on dirt. Nolan’s contention that “all you really need is the motivation to go outside and push against the Earth” is something I would not have found terribly convincing back when I stopped jogging in Brooklyn because I was so rattled by the constant commentary and catcalls from men in my neighborhood, nor would I be moved by it in the midst of 100-degree heat or a blizzard. Then again, I don’t want to buy a Peloton. Guess I’ll be sticking with my time-tested approach of not exercising. -Claire

I finally picked up a copy of “The Guest” by Emma Cline, which I had seen basically everyone I follow and admire on Instagram reading and I tore through it in four hours, cover to cover. Given that it is a darkly comic tale about a young woman grifter floating and clawing her way through the Hamptons, it felt especially right to read it… in the Hamptons. I loved Cline’s sharp observances; the girls who are “in drag as girls” and the experience of being a young woman on an older man’s arm, operating as “a sort of inert piece of social furniture — only her presence was required, the general size and shape of a young woman.” The protagonist, Alex, is the perfect observer of great wealth and privilege. (She drinks a vodka soda to blend in and observes that it has “an ascetic taste, like water gone sick… All the girls had ordered this, the drink of the female martyr.”) As an outsider looking to extract value from those around her, but never quite fitting in, she can see what those inside the vaunted social circles of the summer elite cannot. And I loved being in the mind of an unreliable narrator; a woman who is lying to those around her and also to herself. It’s a dizzying book in the best of ways. -Emma

We’ve been watching…

“Based On A True Story,” a new-ish Peacock show starring Kaley Cuoco and Chris Messina as bored married couple Ava and Nathan, who stumble into the world of true-crime podcasting after stumbling right into a prolific serial killer. When they realize that their new friend / new plumber Matt (Tom Bateman) is the West Side Ripper, they blackmail him into starting a confessional podcast about what it’s like to be a serial killer. Things get rather dark rather quickly, as you might imagine, but it’s all done with a light, campy touch. The result is an imperfect but entertaining satire; a send-up of our obsession with mining stories full of other peoples’ pain and injustice. An episode that sees Ava, Nathan and Matt attend Crime-Con in Vegas is among the first season’s strongest. “The great American art form isn’t music or film or television,” one of the hosts says, echoing the show’s rather obvious — but true! — central thesis. “The great American art form is murder. We watch it, we celebrate it, we obsess over it.” I’m ready for season 2. -Emma

“The Bear” came back, and I was afraid to be excited about it. It’s not rational, but the complete nosedive of “Ted Lasso” (and, apparently, “Yellowjackets,” the bad reviews I heard of season 2 having put me off from even watching it) has dampened my enthusiasm for all the second and third seasons I was most looking forward to. But so far, it’s everything I hoped. Instead of binging, we’re savoring two perfect episodes a night. So far in our viewing of season 2, the show hasn’t lost its acidic bite, but with the restaurant closed and planning a splashy reopening, the pace has mellowed; the show devotes slower scenes and even full episodes to developing the secondary characters outside of the frenzy of the lunch rush, but even lingering minutes spent on the assembly of Danish pastries seem purposeful and immersive. I am also, I must admit, living for the increasingly blatant tension building between Carmy and Sydney — now full creative partners in the kitchen, and constantly giving each other lingering passionate looks that SOME PEOPLE want to pretend are purely platonic. -Claire

We’ve been listening to…

“Scamanda,” a series about a cancer grifter who, for years, spread harrowing accounts of her ever-worsening battle with Hodgkin’s lymphoma through her popular blog, church talks, and social connections — and raked in thousands upon thousands in donations. All scammer stories are sort of the same (and this is, sadly, far from the first cancer scammer I’ve heard of), and yet it’s hard to look away. This pod, hosted by Charlie Webster, is well-paced and rich in infuriating detail. It’s particularly fascinating to hear how Amanda C. Riley profited in part by exploiting the inspiration porn and prosperity gospel verbiage of her church culture, where her image as a woman committed to positivity in the face of unspeakable suffering, combined with her celebration of all the generous financial gifts she received for her treatments, turned her into a sort of celebrity. -Claire

I also started “Scamanda”!! Thanks to

Stephanie McNeal

for being the influencer of influencers that we need in our lives. Her recommendations never fail. Also, the dark world of people faking cancer will never cease to be utterly captivating. -Emma

We’ve been buying…

This purple Madewell midi dress, which hits many of my summer dress prerequisites: flattering cut, flexible fit, accessible bodice (thanks, in this case, to stretchy smocking). Plus, I got lots of compliments on it! Purple is underrepresented in my wardrobe, so I went straight for this pretty muted violet, but the dress comes in a few lovely colors. -Claire

I’ve been on the hunt for an everyday hat I can wear while I run to the grocery store or barre class or Duane Reade. (As I get older, I’m less and less inclined to get my face in the sun directly for extended periods of time — I’m a very freckled, pale person!) Finally landed on this classic Yankees cap in khaki green from American Eagle. It goes with everything and I love to rep New York… even though I grew up as an Orioles & Nationals fan. -Emma

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