This WEEKEND by Yale Daily News

WEEKEND // FRIDAY, FEBRUARY 15, 2013

¢ents &

$ensibility JACK NEWSHAM explores the challenges students from low-income background don’t know they’re signing up for. Page 3

EROS

B6-7

EARTH

YCC IN YOUR INBOX

THE RETURN OF THE BLINDEST DATE

HOW THE WEST WAS WON

Caleb Madison and Cody Kahoe imagine the new template for our student goverment’s correspondence.

Get ready, Yale. WEEKEND is playing matchmaker once more and we want you to be part of the process.

Diana Saverin and Charlie Kelley, our resident lawbreakers, recount the story of their Great Grand Canyon Adventure.

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YALE DAILY NEWS · FRIDAY, FEBRUARY 15, 2013 · yaledailynews.com

CAST AWAYS

KAHOE & MADISON

MENDEZ-VILLAMIL

WEEKEND VIEWS

// BY ANA MENDEZ-VILLAMIL

Email announcements from your friendly neighborhood YCC // BY CODY KAHOE AND CALEB MADISON

Waddup Yale, We’re psyched to tell you that Macklemore & Ryan Lewis will be performing at Spring Fling 2013. We wish the YDN hadn’t ruined the surprise, as we were in the middle of working on a pretty epic announcement music video, complete with a cameo from Mack and Ryan themselves. So much for that … The guys are upset to hear we’re going to have to scrap the project. Enjoy the weekend. xoxo, YCC, Spring Fling Committee

// ANNELISA LEINBACH

SEARS

If I had a penny for every time someone has told me that college is where one “finds oneself,” whatever that means, I’d have enough pennies to buy myself a Claire’s cake (Maybe? Not sure about the math on this one). Through my past three and a half years at Yale, however, I’ve come to see that more often than not, college is about losing oneself instead. No, I’m not just talking about that one time freshman year when you got lost on your way to ADPhi or couldn’t find the pool at Payne Whitney as a second-semester senior (or was that just me?). I’m talking about the times you lost sight of your hopes and dreams. I’m talking about the times you questioned your choice of a major, or wondered why you hadn’t stuck with your original major instead. I’m talking about the times you thought or behaved in ways that your old, forgotten, pre-

college self would have disapproved of, even despised. I’m talking about the times you looked at yourself in the mirror and flat-out did not recognize your reflection — metaphorically, of course (unless, as in my case, the freshman 15 rendered you virtually unrecognizable). I’m talking about the times you felt lost in the most Tom Hanks, “Cast Away” sense of the word — like somehow you, or that version of yourself you were once proud of, had somehow fallen off the map, off the face of the earth. If you are even the slightest bit like me, it was at these times that you felt the most alone. If you are like me, you were too proud or too scared to admit that you were lost. Instead, you turned to that go-to line of your teenage years, the bane of your mother’s existence, the classic “no one understands me or what I’m going through,”

and thus cemented your isolation. Rather than ask for directions, you consistently bottled your feelings up and cast them off to sea, pretending not to care if that glass bottle of yours became just as lost as you were, yet secretly hoping that someone, somewhere would find your bottle and sympathize, empathize, understand or maybe even write back.

I WASN’T ALONE IN THAT SEEMINGLY DESERTED ISLAND. I spent a long time basking in my isolation, sending those hopeless glass bottles out to sea. Perhaps there was some value in my remaining lost without seeking to be found;

perhaps in order to ultimately find yourself, you have to lose yourself along the way. I may not know who I am yet, or who I want to be — but at least I know who I am not, and who I don’t want to be. Looking back, however, I realize that I should have fired that flare gun, Morse-coded that SOS, screamed at the top of my lungs in acceptance of my lost state, in hopes of being found. Had I done so sooner, I would have realized that I wasn’t alone in that seemingly deserted island. I would have realized that so many of my peers were simply hiding amongst the foliage, just as frightened as I was to admit that they too were lost, that they too needed to be found. At least I know that, although lost, I am not alone — for every Tom Hanks, there’s always a Wilson. Contact ANA MENDEZ-VILLAMIL at ana.mendez-villamil@yale.edu .

An open mind // BY HANNAH SEARS

I left the Happiest City in America — according to The Huffington Post — to come to New Haven. In my first six months on the East Coast, there’s been a hurricane and a snowstorm, and Yale has canceled four days of classes. The gutters are overflowing with sock-soaking slush. I’ve had to shell out hundreds for new jackets and sweaters to protect me from this revolutionary concept: seasons. What on earth was I thinking?

I’VE ALWAYS UNKNOWINGLY ASSOCIATED HAVING AN OPEN MIND WITH A BELIEF IN LIBERAL IDEALS. I miss San Francisco. I miss 45–65 degree weather year-round, Dolores Park, Blue Barn sandwiches, Crissy

F R I D AY F E B RUA RY 1 5

Field and pairing floral-print thrift shop dresses with combat boots and ripped tights. I have a particular affinity for dip-dyed hair and club cards. What I don’t miss about San Francisco: No Republican candidates ever come to speak. San Francisco is one of the most liberal cities in the country, rivaled only by our neighbor Berkeley and New York City (maybe). I love my granola-crunching hippies in floor-length acid-wash skirts and with no bras on. I love the Castro and our fierce defense of women’s rights. Since moving east, I’ve realized that I’ve always unknowingly associated having an open mind with a belief in liberal ideals. This isn’t a completely ill-founded association in my opinion, but I had never met someone who openly opposed gay marriage before coming to Yale. The token Republican in my high school class was persecuted throughout Obama’s first presidential campaign, called out and made to speak for the Republican Party as a

whole. Flash-forward four years and one of my best friends at Yale and I are walking down a Manhattan street searching for a slice of pizza. We come upon a storefront sporting an enticing pasta-topped pie, and as I’m taking off my coat and getting my wallet out of my rain-soaked purse, she tells me she’s a creationist. Adrenaline streams into my veins; my fingers tense around the edges of my wallet, and my face contorts into an expression of shock with perhaps a noticeable touch of disgust (I have pretty much zero control over my face when I’m surprised). All I could think was, “How?” How could someone educated enough to come to Yale possibly think that God created man? Doesn’t she know about all the evidence we have for evolution? I turn my attention to ordering food as I try to sort out how to respond. The pitiful image of the devoted Christian Republican I’ve subconsciously harbored (even at times consciously) because of the place

I grew up suddenly becomes apparent and frustrating. I really like Renee. She’s a great friend and I want to have her in my life. But we disagree on such a fundamental belief about the nature of life itself. So I decide to just ask questions, to learn more. Renee and I are still best friends. That’s pretty incredible in my opinion. If you’d told me a year ago I’d be this close to a creationist from Las Vegas, I’d have told you you’re foolish and left it at that. The place I come from is incredible and I sincerely plan on returning to it when I get older, but moving out of the country’s happiest, and my favorite, city hasn’t been so bad. I remain a liberal, and, even beyond that I understand my own beliefs, their limitations and potential for closed-mindedness. I am better able to defend these beliefs, not against sensationalized versions of Republican principles, but against people I care about.

Finding the final frontiers of film.

Waddup Yale, We’re psyched to tell you that Durfee’s will be closed this Tuesday, Feb. 19, due to prohibitive weather conditions. We wish the YDN hadn’t ruined the surprise, as we and the Durfee’s staff were right in the middle of creating a smooth R&B mixtape, which we were really excited to show to you guys. So much for that … Guess we’ll never get to hear it. Enjoy G-Heav. xoxo, YCC, Committee on Undergraduate Snacks Waddup Yale, We’re psyched to tell you that Cory Booker, mayor of Newark, N.J. (birthplace of actor Ray Liotta!) will be this year’s Class Day speaker. We wish the YDN hadn’t ruined the surprise, as we had just finished scrapbooking C-Book’s second term as mayor, which includes several headline newspaper clippings from The Newark Star-Ledger. So much for that … The mayor was visibly disheartened when he heard that his first chance to speak to a crowd of over 1,000 people had been marred by the YDN. Enjoy rewatching Amy Poehler’s Harvard Class Day speech from 2011. xoxo, YCC, Disappointment Mitigation Committee Waddup Yale, We’re psyched to tell you that Pope Benedict XVI has announced his retirement. We wish the YDN hadn’t ruined the surprise, as Benny-16 was in the process of choreographing a farewell performance art piece to be enacted in the center of Old Campus, in the nude. So much for that … Needless to say, His Holiness was pretty miffed to hear that the force of his artistic and religious message was diffused by the machinations of YDN. Enjoy excommunication. xoxo, YCC, Vatican Liaison Waddup Yale, We’re psyched to tell you that I am asking Mike Bernardi out on a date to Basil on Friday, Feb. 15. We wish my friend Ashley hadn’t ruined the surprise by telling everyone in our entryway, including my FroCo, that I liked him, as I was in the middle of gathering up the courage to finally talk to him after our “Civil War” section on Thursday. So much for that … Needless to say, this whole experience has taught me to be more careful when choosing my friends. Enjoy your big mouth, Ashley. xoxo, YCC, Committee on Social Justice Waddup Yale, We’re psyched to tell you that there is a hilarious View written by Caleb Madison and Cody Kahoe in today’s edition of WEEKEND. We wish the YDN hadn’t ruined the surprise by publishing it, as we were in the process of constructing a great email announcing that the YDN was going to publish it. So much for that … Needless to say, Caleb and Cody are pretty upset that their article was ruined by you reading it right now. Enjoy the weekend. xoxo, YCC, YDN Surveillance Committee Contact CODY KAHOE at f.kahoe@yale.edu. Contact CALEB MADISON at caleb.madison@yale.edu .

Contact HANNAH SEARS at hannah.sears@yale.edu .

EXPANDING CINEMA: A CONFERENCE

Whitney Humanities Center // All day Friday and Saturday

Waddup Yale, We’re psyched to tell you that, for the first time in 35 years, Yale has had an official snow day. We wish the YDN hadn’t ruined the surprise before the YCC could make an official announcement. We were in the process of collaborating on a video press release with Mayor John DeStefano Jr., which would have featured a cameo by J-Stef himself. So much for that … Needless to say, John was pretty disappointed that the YDN ruined his special day. Enjoy the snow. xoxo, YCC, Meteorological Committee

WEEKEND RECOMMENDS: Porridge

Even more basic than oatmeal.

YALE DAILY NEWS · FRIDAY, FEBRUARY 15, 2013 · yaledailynews.com

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WEEKEND COVER

BEYOND YOUR AID PACKAGE // BY JACK NEWSHAM

t 10 a.m. on Thursday, Feb. 24, 2005, 15 students arrived at Yale’s Office of Undergraduate Admissions to stage a sit-in. They were protesting Yale’s financial aid policies, which they saw as tightfisted. As a result, the office at 38 Hillhouse Ave. was closed for much of the day. Yale police officers were posted outside. Around midday, a 150-person rally spearheaded by the Undergraduate Organizing Committee marched from Cross Campus to the Admissions Office, where they waved signs, led chants and played drums. Disappointed by noncommittal statements from University President Richard Levin, the UOC presented a petition with over 1,100 student signatures demanding more generous financial aid for Yale’s lower-income students. With students adding to the pressure already created by Harvard’s and Princeton’s recent financial aid reforms, Levin announced one week later that the parental contribution for families with incomes below $45,000 would be eliminated and that families earning under $60,000 would face a reduced burden, a move that affected some 800 families. It was the largest change to Yale’s financial aid policy since 2001. To boost efforts to recruit lowerincome students, Yale launched a Student Ambassadors Program, to send current Yalies to promote the University in high schools, particularly in low-income areas where it may not be as well-known. In 2008, Yale announced another round of financial aid expansion. The family contribution was eliminated for most families making under $60,000, and families making under $200,000 would also see a significant cut in their Yale bills. The self-help requirement for students was almost halved. From $48 million in 2004–’05, Yale’s annual financial aid budget now exceeds $120 million. Yale also partners with QuestBridge, an organization that recruits high-achieving low-income students for needblind elite schools, and provides 790 families earning under $65,000 a full financial aid package with no expected family contribution. Despite a sharp drop in Yale’s endowment due to the financial crisis, expected student contributions from all sources have remained well below their pre-reform highs. But student costs are now rising once again. For the 2010–’11 school year, the self-help component of the financial aid package was raised 15 percent over the preceding year. This year, self-help was lowered for freshmen but raised for upperclassmen, hitting $3,200 for the latter. The student income contribution, which students are expected to earn over the summer, has also increased, growing by $450 since

2009. Without exception, students from low-income backgrounds interviewed for this article are effusive in their praise for Yale’s financial aid policies. They came from families where neither parent had been to college and high schools that offered few or no Advanced Placement classes and discouraged college counseling. In many ways, they say, they have adjusted well to a new academic and social milieu and distinguished themselves in their extracurriculars.

STUDENT COSTS ARE NOW RISING ONCE AGAIN. But the playing field is still not level. During the applications process, on campus and over the summer, lower-income students confront social, academic and financial challenges that they never anticipated.

THE ADMISSIONS GAP

Alejandro Gutierrez ’13 grew up in a working-class neighborhood in Los Angeles, Calif. Neither of his parents had gone to college; “they had no idea what Yale was,” he says. But he went to a magnet high school for students pursuing careers in medicine, and he excelled there. Gutierrez was guided in the college application process by a program for minority students that he attended the summer after his junior year, but he only applied to Yale once his counselor encouraged him to do so that October. Though he had gone through a prep program, Gutierrez says he felt intimidated discussing his approach to applications once he got to Yale because of “how well-versed everybody was in the whole college application experience.” In high school, Gutierrez adds, “I didn’t even know about early action.” For many Yalies, the path to New Haven started well before high school. For legacies, it started before they were born. For those who attended elite private schools, it started with the highly credentialed teachers and counselors that pushed them to excel. But most high-achievers never start down that path at all. That’s the conclusion reached in a National Bureau of Economic Research paper published two months ago. In “The Missing ‘OneOffs,’” Caroline Hoxby and Christopher Avery draw from demographic data, admissions statistics and test scores to tell the story of where high-achieving students come from and where they end up. The results can be disheartening. Hoxby and Avery estimate that the vast majority of high-achieving, low-income students don’t even apply to a selective institution of

any kind; facing social and financial pressures and lacking information, many simply enroll at community colleges. Recruiting these students can be difficult. Though multiple sources can provide the contact information of high-achieving high schoolers to universities, it can be tough for a school like Yale to reach out to students who never thought of it as an option. The current recruitment strategies of elite schools are “necessary, but probably not sufficient,” Avery says. “We’re going to have to develop even more elaborate strategies … to try to educate students about the possibilities that are made available to them.” When it came time to submit their applications, many current Yale students say they received little encouragement and had few reliable sources of information. Melinda Becker ’15, who hails from a small town in northwest Kansas, recalls that her high school counselor laughed at her when she told him that she was applying to Yale. Rebekah Stewart ’13 says she was told by her college counselor that QuestBridge was a scam. David Truong ’14 says his college counselor told him that his school district wouldn’t let him apply through QuestBridge. Despite reforms, the number of Yalies from lower-income backgrounds has changed very little. In 2005, when the University’s financial aid policies were rewritten to sharply reduce or eliminate the family contribution from families earning under $60,000, the News reported that 800 Yale families fell into that category and would benefit from the new policy. But instead of rising, the number of lower-income families with students at Yale has stagnated. Today, only 790 Yale families receive full financial aid.

SOCIAL DIVIDES

MacBooks. Dooney & Bourke bags. MoMA and the Met. These were the things that, she says, set her apart. It didn’t take long for Shanaz Chowdhery ’13 to notice that people were different at Yale. “There was all this cultural capital that people seemed to have,” she says. Where she was from, no one read The New Yorker on Sundays. The differences weren’t just cultural, either: Chowdhery recalls her shock at seeing girls walking around campus with $100 handbags. After she noticed that so many students here used Macs, she says, she looked up the price and couldn’t believe her eyes. Her classmates were lounging on Old Campus with $2,000 laptops. Chowdhery’s father put her generic Windows laptop on a credit card. She believes he was paying it off her entire freshman year. Even after being admitted, many students from lower-income back-

grounds feel socially aloof from their wealthier classmates. For Leonard Thomas ’14, feelings of difference and isolation were the largest obstacles to overcome as he transitioned from life in Detroit to being a student at Yale. “I felt poor here,” he says. “I didn’t necessarily feel poor in Detroit because I wasn’t the extreme case. “I’m an extreme case of poverty here.” David Truong ’14 still remembers what it was like to move into his freshman dorm. As he watched a suitemate buy a TV stand, a TV and an Xbox without hesitation, he cringed while paying for clothes hangers and plastic storage bins for his room. That first weekend when everyone was getting to know each other, Truong struggled with suite discussions about splitting the cost of a couch. The expectation that everyone would be contributing to the cost of furnishing the suite, while he thought it fair, was an adjustment. That expectation of spending does not disappear after move-in weekend. Jennifer Friedmann ’13 says that Yale has a “culture around money.” “You were expected to be able to go out to dinner,” she said. “If I had a coffee date with someone, it was expected that everyone was buying coffee and that it wasn’t a financial burden for anyone.” But Friedmann did not want the fact that she was on financial aid to interfere with her ability to socialize with anyone on campus, regardless of socio-economic background. By shopping at thrift stores, she says she found it more feasible to “be a social person on this campus without making people feel weird about me being on financial aid.”

I FELT POOR HERE… I DIDN’T NECESSARILY FEEL POOR IN DETROIT BECAUSE I WASN’T THE EXTREME CASE. “Social gracefulness” is how she describes it. Still, the social experiences of students on financial aid vary widely. Several say they have never felt restrained due to their limited means. While some students say that they notice class distinctions among Yale students when it comes to things like fashion, they describe such differences as subtle, not significant to their Yale experience. “The divide exists if you make it exist,” says Steven Mendoza ’14. He was the first person in his singleparent home to go to college. After he graduated from high school, Mendoza was awarded a Gates Millennium Scholarship, which covers the part of his educational and liv-

ing costs that his Yale financial aid does not. “I haven’t had to worry about money,” he says. Asked whether he felt a social divide existed between lowerincome students and the rest of Yale, Mendoza’s answer was an emphatic no. “I have friends who are worth billions. I’m worth $2,000. I don’t see any difference in the way that they treat others who are the same as they are and the way they treat me,” he says. “I think Yale’s just a good campus at bringing people together.”

ACADEMIC DIFFERENCES

But for Mendoza and many other students, the difference between what they learned at school and the rigor their peers experienced at prep schools was immediately perceptible. Although the transition from high school to college is a significant one regardless of educational background, several students say they felt unprepared for Yale’s academic environment. “My first thought was, ‘These kids are prepped to succeed in the Ivy League system,’” recalls Mendoza, a California native. “And I was like, shit. I was prepped to succeed in a UC.” Becker still remembers being overwhelmed during the first week of Directed Studies, which she quickly dropped. “I didn’t know how to do close reading at all,” she says, recalling that her high school English class devoted three months to reading “1984.” In English 114, Becker says, “I had written how they told me to write in high school, and I was like pretty proud of myself.” Her teaching fellow told her work like that would earn her a D. Many students from lowerincome backgrounds were unaccustomed to being surrounded by hard-driving classmates. Truong, who went to a public high school in Texas, did not write a single academic essay in his entire senior year. He took English 114 his freshman fall, where he felt that his writing level was far below that of his peers. When it came to the sciences, Truong was placed into Chemistry 114, where he struggled. While Truong’s science background looked good on paper, he says his high school honors chemistry class was not very rigorous. “I was not prepared for that level of academic intensity,” he said. His classmates, he said, were “much more intense than I expected compared to people at my high school.” In a pattern other students from less prestigious high schools may find familiar, Thomas says he found it difficult to ask TAs and professors for help when he was having a difficult time academically his freshman year because he had not gone to a high school where one went to teachers to ask questions. He says SEE MONEY MATTERS PAGE 8

// ALLIE KRAUSE

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JONATHAN EDWARDS COLLEGE PHILHARMONIC WINTER CONCERT Battell Chapel // 7 p.m.

Featuring clasic fairy tales and classical music, an all-around classy event.

WEEKEND RECOMMENDS: Pulling out your ice skates

Once this snow melts, and then refreezes, Yale will be one big rink.

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YALE DAILY NEWS · FRIDAY, FEBRUARY 15, 2013 · yaledailynews.com

WEEKEND ARTS

WHEN PUSSYCATS AND BOW-WOWS POUT // BY HAYLEY BYRNES “Haven’t you ever seen a ding-a-ling?” Waiting for the coveted monkey bars, I stared doe-eyed at my fifth-grade suitor. No, I hadn’t (turns out, it’s not a delicious Hostess product.) At age 11, amidst the cesspool of public school recess, I was introduced to the racy concept of sexual innuendo. That idea is all too present in the Yale Cabaret’s latest production, “Ermyntrude and Esmeralda,” adapted and directed by Hunter Kaczorowski DRA ’14. But don’t be fooled by the title’s Elizabethan echoes. More fitting, I think, is the play’s selfstyled moniker: “naughty puppet show.” The titular characters converse through a series of monologues, as they share their written correspondences with the audience. The conversation is aggressively relatable, a Victorian display of “Dawson’s Creek” soapiness. Esmeralda (Ceci Fernandez DRA ’14) gossips with insatiable adolescent energy about potential husbands. Ermyntrude (Sophie von Haselberg DRA ’14) dishes about her star-crossed-lover attraction to Henry, the dashing footman. The two pen pals stumble to crack the code of silence surrounding S-E-X. With endearing naiveté, the two form their own sexual vernacular. Ermyntrude relates how her “pussycat” purrs for Henry. Esmeralda, eyes wide and mouth agape, wonders about the inner workings of each man’s “bow-wow.” The stage, small and simple, mirrors the organic nature of the show’s dialogue. Esmeralda and Ermyntrude each sit at a desk, writing from their respective households, sometimes standing to gaze out at the audience. It’s as if we’re eavesdropping on a split-screen phone conversation, and the characters’ physical closeness on stage fits the intimacy of their relationship. Shadow puppets periodically emerge in the background, with black figures dancing about in eight scattered picture frames. These scenes have a medieval simplicity to them, serving as natural complements to the dialogue. With each appearance of shadow-pussycats and shadowbow-wows, the sexual tension heightens, as when one cat silhouette spawns out of the lap of Ermyntrude’s puppet self. The puppetry adds an extra layer of nuance and insight into the character’s imaginations, directed with a precise amount of humor and economy.

// BRIANNA LOO

These girls just wanna have fun.

It’s easy to attribute the show’s sexiness to its understatement. The staging and the wardrobe, so British in its formality, successfully underlines the forbidden nature of the dialogue. “Ermyntrude and Esmeralda” entertains with witty wordplay and well-delivered innuendo, but it is more than mere ramblings à la “Sex and the City.” Read the script literally and the show dips into the prosaic pot of romantic conundrums — is love compatible with marriage? Why should it matter who we love. Occasionally the characters slump into this predictability, though usually only for a line or two (as when Esmeralda vacuously asks, in contemplating her romantic life, “Have I finally discovered what I’m looking for?”). But at times, the play hints at larger societal issues, as the girls unwittingly question contemporary moral conventions about love through their innocence and idealism. When Esmeralda discovers two men in the act of lovemaking, she fails to understand her father’s repulsion toward this socially unacceptable behavior. The narrative format compensates for any tiredness in the show’s message. The production is billed as a “Come Celebrate Valentine’s Day” affair, a day that thrives on the imitation of Baz Luhrmann-worthy flamboyance. It’s a holiday — and I say this with the least cynicism possible — of pomp over substance. “Ermyntrude and Esmeralda” succeeds in resisting that empty flashiness. Of course, our inquisitive heroines sacrifice no sense of theatricality in the process (Fernandez sometimes edges perilously close to melodrama in her imitation of teenage wonder). At its heart, the production challenges the gratuitous explicitness of modern expressions of romance. In each sexual suggestion, in every shadow puppet scene, the show typifies the characters’ emotional curiosities in the most comedic way. Even as Esmeralda and Ermyntrude edge toward their prescribed fates, they still desperately want to understand the simplest concepts regarding sex. The Cabaret’s adaptation does not oversimplify this plot, but instead provides a masterful representation of the dilemmas weighing on the protagonists’ shoulders. The answers to their questions, it seems, are as hazy as the shadows projected on the stage. Contact HAYLEY BYRNES at hayley.byrnes@yale.edu .

The name of the story will be Time // BY BAOBAO ZHANG

In high school, when my classmates were fixated on Kerouac & Co., I desperately tried to imitate the historyinspired poetry of Robert Penn Warren. Warren, who had taught English and creative writing at Yale University, published several award-winning poetry collections. Many of them reflect upon the South’s conflicted past, marred by the sins of slavery and racism. Therefore, it was no surprise as I grew older, I gravitated towards the works of Natasha Trethewey, who read on Thursday afternoon at the Beinecke Rare Book and Manuscript Library. “Trethewey is an outstanding poet and historian in the mold of Robert Penn Warren, [the] first poet laureate consultant in poetry,” Librarian of Congress James Billington said when he appointed Trethewey as the U.S. poet laureate in 2012. While Trethewey carries with her the legacy of Warren, she also stakes out new territory as an African-American poet in the spirit of Gwendolyn Brooks. Born to a black mother and white Canadian father who married a year before Loving v. Virginia struck

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down miscegenation laws, Trethewey frequently reflects upon her biracial background. Themes of interracial marriage and relationships were central to her presentation. All of the poems came from Trethewey’s latest collection, “Thrall.” The poems Trethewey chose for the reading blend the personal and historical. Although a current of identity politics underlies these works, the pieces also showcase her imagination and emotional depth. Expanding beyond the vocabulary of Southern history, Trethewey explores two sets of unusual artworks in her poetry. The first focuses on pictorial depictions of St. Cosmas and St. Damian transplanting the leg of a black man upon the body of a white man. Her poem “Miracle of the Black Leg” contains shocking images of “black body hewn asunder” and “doctors harvest[ing] the leg / from a man, four days dead.” The violence committed against the seemingly anonymous black body seems an obvious metaphor for racial resentment and apathy. Yet, Trethewey manages to transform

the black leg into an organism with life and potential — a “caesura in a story that’s still being written.” The AfricanAmerican narrative is not merely about victimhood but the possibility to grow and flourish in a society dominated by whites.

TIME DOES NOT HEAL ALL, BUT IT DOES NOT SEVER THE TIES THAT BIND KINDSHIP The second set of historical artworks Trethewey draws upon is the casta paintings of Mexico. Casta paintings depict the complex race-based caste system of the Spanish colonies. In “Taxonomy,” she describes a series of such works: A white father blesses his mixed-race child while the indigenous mother watches. Trethewey lists the absurd formula for racial purity in the Spanish Mexico: “from a Spaniard and

an Indian, / a mestizo; / from a mestizo and a Spaniard, a castizo; / from a castizo and a Spaniard, / a Spaniard.” Yet, having one African ancestor renders a person and his progeny black forever. We might scoff at the arbitrary delineation of races and ethnicities in that colonial age. Yet, our age is not so different. Although racial and ethnic lines have somewhat blurred, biracial children still struggle with privileges and prejudices associated with their mixed identity. Through these Mexican artworks, Trethewey reflects upon her mixed heritage. In many ways, the looming white fathers of the casta paintings represent her own father, who is also a poet. Many of Trethewey’s poems recount childhood episodes with her father: flying-fishing, listening to the blues, walking along railroad tracks. In “Enlightenment,” she combines personal narrative and history to describe visiting Monticello with her aged father. Trethewey’s father, who once refused to believe that Thomas Jefferson had fathered children with Sally Hemings, comes to accept the truth

“BREAKING OUT: CONCERTO FOR BASSOON QUARTET AND WIND ENSEMBLE” Woolsey Hall // 7:30 p.m.

These girls prove that the bassoon can get funky.

revealed through recent evidence. Old tensions between the two ease, as Trethewey reflects: “I know he’s grateful / I’ve made a joke of it, this history that links us — white father, black daughter — / even as it renders us other to each other.” Time does not heal all, but it does not sever the ties that bind kinship. In his epic poem “Audubon,” Warren delineates the role of the poet: “Tell me a story. / In this century, and moment, of mania, Tell me a story … The name of the story will be Time.” Trethewey tells such a story through the poems she read from “Thrall.” It’s a story of the past, when racial resentment manifests itself in violence and discrimination. It’s a story of the present, as Trethewey privies readers to the complex relationship with her white father. But it is also a story of the future, as America becomes an increasingly multicultural, multiracial society. Contact BAOBAO ZHANG at baobao.zhang@yale.edu .

WEEKEND RECOMMENDS: Earmuffs

Keeps you cozy without giving you hat hair.

YALE DAILY NEWS · FRIDAY, FEBRUARY 15, 2013 · yaledailynews.com

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WEEKEND TACKLES

DOUBLE TEAM // BY ELAINA PLOTT In high school, many of us wore — willingly or unwillingly — at least one, or maybe two or three, different jerseys. Jock or not, many high schools required us to play one sport per year, if not one sport per season. Playing soccer in the fall, hockey in the winter and lacrosse in the spring, was not strange then, but, now, in college, the idea of joining the roster of three varsity teams seems almost impossible. Not counting students who are on both the Track and Field and Cross Country team, students that play on two varsity teams are pretty exceptional across collegiate sports, especially in the Ivy League. At Yale, where only about 20%

of students play on an intercollegiate sports team, students that play on more than one team are an anomaly. This year, Charles Cook ’15 will become one of those rare individuals. When Cook signed as a football player for the Bulldogs in 2011, he had no idea that less than two years later, he would find a second home on Yale Field. A Texas native, Cook spent his high school years playing both football and baseball the Parish Episcopal School in Dallas. In high school, Cook was captain of both teams. A star safety on the football team, Cook led the Panthers to a state championship his senior year while hauling in a state-record of 16 interceptions. Cook was no less impressive on

the baseball diamond. He mashed his way to a .416 batting average his junior year, all while splitting his time between shortstop and the outfield. Despite earning a spot on the all-district teams for both sports, Cook felt his football abilities would fare better in the college recruitment process. “At that point, I gave up summer baseball after my junior year of high school and decided to focus on football,” he said. “I did get calls and letters from multiple schools about baseball, some in the Ivy League, but football remained my focus.” After catching the attention of former football coach Tom Williamson, Cook quickly scaled the positional ranks once he got to Yale. Throughout the 2012 season, he was the Bulldogs’ starting safety, and his efforts produced a critical interception for Yale during The Game last fall. But even with his rising status in the Yale Bowl, Cook remained intent on picking up the baseball bat he had put aside two years before. “When the football staff at Yale recruited me and gave me an offer, I expressed an interest in trying to play baseball as well,” Cook explained. “I had always wanted to pursue the opportunity.” This spring, he did just that, earning a walk-on spot on the team and cementing his status as a two-sport athlete. Cook attributes the rarity of athletes on two varsity sports teams to the “rigorous” time commitment that sports impose on a student’s life. It’s certainly not easy. Just like all other student athletes, twosport athletes have to balance a full schedule of schoolwork and a social life with the demands of playing on two teams at an elite level. One commitment like that is tough enough; doubling it is a formidable task, but one that Cook believes he’s up to. “Time management will definitely be very important for me to balance the demands of both sports as well as the classroom,” he said. “But I think it will be more rewarding than anything … I grew up playing both sports, loving both, and decided I didn’t want to give up either.”

So far, Cook seems to be handling the transition into the dugout seamlessly. Ben Joseph ’15, a pitcher for the Bulldogs, spoke highly of the benefits Cook stands to offer the team as a twosport athlete. Despite, or perhaps because of the differences separating football and baseball, Cook’s teammates believe he will bring a new approach to the game that could help them both on the field and off it. “Charles will definitely have a unique impact,” Joseph said. “He has already brought some of the no-nonsense, warrior mentality of football onto the baseball diamond.” Perhaps the unique demands of a two-sport athlete require flexibility in athletic ability as well as a flexible disposition. For Joseph, Cook’s presence on the

team has been defined not only by his athletic talents, but also by his “easygoing” personality. “He gets along with everyone … All the guys on the team are glad to have him, and everyone is ready to see what he can do.” This season, the Bulldogs will look to Cook’s natural athleticism to help them rebound from a 2011-’12 campaign that saw them go 13-31-1. It remains to be seen where he will spend his playing time, but his teammates feel certain that wherever he is on the diamond, he will bring both skill and competitive fire. It does take a special kind of athlete to excel on such disparate fields, but no matter whom you ask, Cook is that kind of athlete. As he prepares for Yale baseball’s March 9 season opening three-game series against Army in Tampa,

// ZOE GORMAN

Cook plays the field.

FL, Cook will take his first step toward fulfilling a longtime goal: fulfilling his love for both football, and baseball, in a college setting. “Ultimately, I decided to give baseball a shot because I don’t want to have any regrets fifty years from now,” Cook said. “I realize that in two years I will never have this opportunity again, so I am going to do everything I can to make the most of it.” David Whipple contributed reporting. Contact ELAINA PLOTT at elaina.plott@yale.edu .

// THAO DO

F R I D AY

“I CAPULETI E I MONTECCHI”

F E B RUA RY 1 5

Didn’t get enough romance on Valentine’s Day? Keep it going with this operatic version of “Romeo and Juliet.”

WEEKEND RECOMMENDS:

Shubert Theater // 8 p.m.

Boat drinks

Something to keep us all warm.

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YALE DAILY NEWS · FRIDAY, FEBRUARY 15, 2013 · yaledailynews.com

WEEKEND PLAYS

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CUPID

THE BLINDEST DATE IS BACK! // BY WEEKEND

elcome back to the blindest date ever! In honor of Valentine’s Day, we have pulled this Arts & Living tradition out of the vaults and back into our pages. This time around, we’re getting the ball rolling with a fresh batch of strapping gay men, because heterosexuals are s000 boring. Read these anonymous profiles, go to our WKND blog and vote for your favorite candidate. The top two vote-earners will get the chance to go on a date together, on the Yale Daily News’ dime! What if they hook up? What if they get married? What if they adopt a cute Chinese baby?! It’s all up to you, readers. TIME TO PLAY CUPID WITH THESE BRAVE SOULS! ONCE MORE, WITH FEELING.

Bachelor #10 Major: Art

Bachelor #9

Interests: Twerking, cooking, painting, pizza, political organizing, Yiddish.

Major: Economics

Random fact: I give a small amount of credence to astrological systems, because when the Chinese and Greek ones are combined I’m a monkey-goat, which I feel is a fairly accurate summation of my personality.

Interests: In my free time, I relish in Belgian chocolate truffles, long walks on the beach and Starbucks. Random fact: I quite enjoy reading about international diplomacy and reminiscing about the time when I used to play the double bass.

Looking for: In descending order of importance :— 1. He be creative (in all senses of the word), versatile (in all senses of the word) and open (in all senses of the word). 2. He be anti-racist, anti-sexist, anti-capitalist and very queer. 3. He have facial hair.

Bachelor #1 Major: Computer science Interests: Music (anything from Ke$ha to Miles Davis to Debussy), drawing (I LOVE to draw, even though I don’t draw much anymore), game shows (please don’t judge me), French, overusing parentheses.

Random fact: I’ve never seen “Star Wars,” “Lord of the Rings,” “Alice in Wonderland” or a bunch of other childhood staples. But I still had a good childhood, I promise. Looking for: I don’t need someone “fierce” or “fabulous.” I just want a gentleman whose heart is in the right place. Preferably someone more masculine.

Looking for: My ideal guy is romantic, handsome and a little bit silly.

Bachelor #8 Major: Economics Interests: “30 Rock.” Scrabble. Ke$ha. Starbucks. Sporcle. “Mean Girls.” That shirtless guy from the “Call Me Maybe” video. Random fact: I recently learned how to knit! Looking for: Someone who thinks Malcolm Gladwell is overrated. Someone who enjoys Birthday Cake ice cream as much as I do.

Bachelor #2 Major: Art Interests: Poetry, dancing, fast food, cocktails, beautiful music. Random fact: I once met Lucy Liu at a Rainforest Café. Looking for: Someone silly, hilarious and kind; someone who will wine and dine me at McDonald’s; someone who is soulful when I least expect it.

Bachelor #7 Major: Molecular, cellular and developmental biology Interests: Performing magic, Rubik’s Cubing, nature, writing, photography, languages, human anatomy and physiology, raspberries and frozen yogurt. Random fact: I used to somnambulate routinely as a child. Looking for: Someone who can see the real me, who I’ve always wanted to be, yet still like me for my peculiar idiosyncrasies — like my occasional dive into a British accent whenever I am stressed, or my strange obsession with Chinese pop songs, or my perpetual viewings of “Sex and the City” episodes.

Bachelor #3 Major: Molecular biophysics and biochemistry (wasn’t everyone as a freshman…) Interests: Theater, piano, queer issues, adorable animals, regrettable food. Random fact: I have an extra bone in my left foot, which people are usually interested in during an icebreaker, but apparently it’s common enough so that it really isn’t that interesting. Perhaps if I had a tentacle… Looking for: I really just love to talk and have fun with whomever I’m with. Ideally, I’d be with someone who loves to joke around and laugh, but who makes for interesting conversation. So I suppose I’m looking for Tina Fey as a gay college student.

Bachelor #4

Bachelor #6

Major: What do you do with a bachelor’s in English? Interests: Girls in white dresses with blue satin sashes. Snowflakes that stay on my nose and eyelashes. Silver white winters that melt into springs. These are a few of my favorite things. Random fact: Puerto Rico, my heart’s devotion. Let it sink back in the ocean. Always the hurricanes blowing, always the population growing and the money owing and the sunlight streaming and the natives steaming. I like the island Manhattan. Looking for: Late nights, quick bites, party games, deep talks, long walks, telephone calls. Thoughts shared, souls bared, private names. “With love” filling the days. “With love” 70 ways.

Major: Undeclared, but interested in Global Affairs or history. Interests: I love playing the cello, singing with my friends, hiking in the Rocky Mountains and reading The Economist.

Bachelor #5

Random fact: One time, I flew an airplane.

Major: Music Interests: Concerts, musicals, sci-fi/fantasy literature/film/etc., science, moral philosophy. Random fact: I have mild sound-color synesthesia.

Looking for: I like giving affection and going on adventures. I’m interested in someone who is passionate about what they do and feels at ease with life.

Looking for: A good conversationalist with a real passion for something, even if it’s not something I’m super familiar with.

// KATE MCMILLAN

S AT U R D AY F E B RUA RY 1 6

HIGH SEAS AND HIGH TEA

Yale Center for British Art // 10:30 a.m. Family program (if your family lives in New Haven)! Props if you dress up as Nemo, in honor of both the little fish and the big blizzard.

WEEKEND RECOMMENDS: “What’s the Word?”

The hottest iPhone app right now. Four pictures, guess the word!

S AT U R D AY F E B RUA RY 1 6

YALE FILM SOCIETY PRESENTS: “CASABLANCA”

Whitney Humanities Center // 7 p.m. This is a classic. You should watch it. Humphrey Bogart is a comforting presence. (And WEEKEND columnist Becca Edelman is running the show.)

WEEKEND RECOMMENDS: Three-way spooning.

Body heat on body heat on body heat.

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YALE DAILY NEWS · FRIDAY, FEBRUARY 15, 2013 · yaledailynews.com

WEEKEND PLAYS

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CUPID

THE BLINDEST DATE IS BACK! // BY WEEKEND

Bachelor #10 Major: Art

Bachelor #9

Interests: Twerking, cooking, painting, pizza, political organizing, Yiddish.

Major: Economics

Looking for: My ideal guy is romantic, handsome and a little bit silly.

Bachelor #4

Bachelor #6

Major: Undeclared, but interested in Global Affairs or history. Interests: I love playing the cello, singing with my friends, hiking in the Rocky Mountains and reading The Economist.

Bachelor #5

Random fact: One time, I flew an airplane.

Major: Music Interests: Concerts, musicals, sci-fi/fantasy literature/film/etc., science, moral philosophy. Random fact: I have mild sound-color synesthesia.

Looking for: I like giving affection and going on adventures. I’m interested in someone who is passionate about what they do and feels at ease with life.

Looking for: A good conversationalist with a real passion for something, even if it’s not something I’m super familiar with.

// KATE MCMILLAN

S AT U R D AY F E B RUA RY 1 6

HIGH SEAS AND HIGH TEA

Yale Center for British Art // 10:30 a.m. Family program (if your family lives in New Haven)! Props if you dress up as Nemo, in honor of both the little fish and the big blizzard.

WEEKEND RECOMMENDS: “What’s the Word?”

The hottest iPhone app right now. Four pictures, guess the word!

S AT U R D AY F E B RUA RY 1 6

YALE FILM SOCIETY PRESENTS: “CASABLANCA”

Whitney Humanities Center // 7 p.m. This is a classic. You should watch it. Humphrey Bogart is a comforting presence. (And WEEKEND columnist Becca Edelman is running the show.)

WEEKEND RECOMMENDS: Three-way spooning.

Body heat on body heat on body heat.

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YALE DAILY NEWS · FRIDAY, FEBRUARY 15, 2013 · yaledailynews.com

WEEKEND COVER

NO MONEY? MO’ PROBLEMS MONEY MATTERS FROM PAGE 3 he was taught not to speak unless spoken to. “I felt like I had two humps to leap over: public school and poor,” he said. Though Yale does offer extensive academic support services, it can be difficult for tutors and deans to overcome a deep-rooted academic disadvantage and a learned reluctance to ask for help.

FINANCIAL STRINGS ATTACHED

Sometimes, even asking for that help from the resources Yale makes available isn’t enough — especially when it comes to money. “A lot of my frustration freshman year was that nobody could tell me what to do, in terms of real-life stuff,” Thomas told the News. As a workstudy student who is financially independent, he needed to learn how to file taxes. He had no home to return to over breaks because the transportation costs and the financial burden he would have placed on his family were too great, so he needed to figure out where he could live when the dorms closed and how he would feed himself. These were questions that Thomas felt his dean and FroCos couldn’t answer. And other students from lowincome backgrounds find it difficult to understand even the financial requirements Yale’s aid policies commit them to. Important details regarding their obligations are often masked by the use of sweeping terms like “no-loan policy.” Yale widely publicizes the fact that the $3,200 self-help portion of a student’s financial aid package can be met by working only a few hours per week at the University’s student wages. Some students say that they enjoy the benefits of having an on-campus job — the extra spending money, the feeling of financial independence, the relationships forged with faculty and administrators. “I prefer to feel financially independent to the extent that I can afford to buy coffee, and I would feel uncomfortable if my external expenses were entirely covered by the University,” Friedmann says. But much less attention is drawn to the $2,900 student income contribution expected to come from a summer job. Many students have had trouble

making the combined sum on their own. So they decided to borrow what they needed. Chowdhery is one of them. “When I graduate, I’ll have about $16,000 in loans,” she says. That way, Chowdhery adds, she might not be able to go abroad over spring break, but she can go out to dinner with her friends and order more than a glass of water. “I traded taking out loans for a quality of life and not feeling insecure about never having any money,” she says. According to institutional data, fewer students find themselves having to turn to loans. But while the percentage of students graduating in debt has dropped almost every year since Yale reformed its financial aid policies in 2005, the average debt burden of students who have taken out loans rose for the class of 2012, due to increased financial expectations faced by students, according to Caesar Storlazzi, the director of Student Financial Services. While Storlazzi adds that financial literacy modules are being discussed by Yale administrators, no concrete decisions have been made.

WHEN I GRADUATE, I’LL HAVE ABOUT $16,000 IN LOANS. A recent survey of 652 students conducted by the News shows that only 16 percent of students on financial aid find the application process very clear, and only 32 percent said they found it even somewhat clear. Most Yale students are expected to earn $6,100 per year between termtime and summer contributions, but several lower-income students we spoke to believed when they were admitted that they would have no financial obligations. In detailed conversations, students talked about surprise bills and unclear charges. Chowdhery, who is on full financial aid, had an outside scholarship during her freshman year and currently works 10 hours per week. But it hasn’t been enough.

Abhinav Nayar ’15, a student from India, described a particularly confusing episode involving Yale’s financial aid office. In his freshman year, his financial aid award included the cost of insurance through Yale Health. Figuring he would save money in his second year, Nayar signed up for a cheaper Indian medical insurer. Upon learning that he had outside insurance, however, Student Financial Services reduced Nayar’s award by the cost of Yale health insurance. Instead of saving money, Nayar had wasted hundreds of dollars. While they may have gotten 5s on their AP Calculus tests, many new students of limited means have little idea how to take charge of their personal finances in a way that wealthier students often do not have to.

SUMMER: ALL WORK AND LOW PAY

Though they’re away from Yale, students on full financial aid cannot consider summer to be simply a vacation. They are expected to earn $2,900 over those 14 weeks. Many therefore seek paid internships. Lacking the connections and time of their higherincome peers, students on extensive financial aid have a harder time seeking and applying to better opportunities. Applying for a fellowship to cover the costs of an unpaid internship or other summer activity is always an option, but many students from lower-income backgrounds cite several obstacles they have faced in attaining those fellowships. Two years ago, during the fellowship application cycle, Stewart was dealing with her disabled father’s failing health and the loss of their farm in Alma, Ark., which meant she had to lend major financial support to her family. The fellowship application process was competitive, and it required research and planning that back then, she says, she did not have the time for. Because she has not held an internship during her Yale career, Stewart feels behind her peers in the job search she is going through this semester as a graduating senior. She spent her first two summers during college keeping her family’s farm running until the business went under in Decem-

“Middle class” incomes according to students on full financial aid $56K-125K

// SARAH ECKINGER

ber 2011. “What am I going to say to employers when they ask about my blank summers?” she asks herself. “Do I say, ‘Look I come from a very poor family, and we were trying to keep our farm afloat?’ No. I don’t want to lay my family’s problems bare to someone who is going to hire me.” Stewart covered her student income contribution using loans instead of summer job earnings. When she graduates, she will be in thousands of dollars’ worth of debt. Those students who do devote their summers to a paid job find that making the money they need can be demanding. At the end of his freshman year, Dalton Carr ’15 found he had spent nearly $2,000. Between Yale bills and the costs he incurred living on campus, he knew he would need to make some serious money. At that point, though, he didn’t have much choice but to go back to the “dangerous” job he held the summer after he graduated from high school, a $10 per hour position in the oil industry. Carr has spent the past two summers working at a refinery and an oil rig. It’s not fun, but it pays pretty well: Each summer, Dalton says, he netted

around $2,500. That did leave another $400 to make up for — and, he says, he cut back to adjust for that amount. *** Over the past several years, Yale administrators have made an unprecedented commitment of resources toward recruiting and welcoming lower-income students. “It’s not that the spirit wasn’t willing earlier,” President Levin told The Chronicle of Higher Education in 2008. “But now, the pocketbook is deeper.” As deep as the pocketbook might be, there’s still a long way to go to before students from lower-income backgrounds get to live the same Yale experience as their higher-income counterparts. Those students don’t have a problem working hard, they say. “But it would be nice to be able to get out of that,” Carr says. “To be able to look for more productive things.” Arielle Stambler contributed reporting. Contact JACK NEWSHAM at jack.newsham@yale.edu.

“Middle class” incomes according to students on no financial aid $67K-156K

// U.S. CENSUS BUREAU, CURRENT POPULATION SURVEY, 2011

S AT U R D AY F E B RUA RY 1 6

SAYBROOK COLLEGE ORCHESTRA WINTER CONCERT Battell Chapel // 7 p.m.

Free admission and Beethoven’s “Symphony No. 6 in F Major.” What’s not to love?

WEEKEND RECOMMENDS: Ikea’s CIRKUSTÄLT

That’s Swedish for “children’s tent.” It can double as a cuddle spot, an accent piece or a doghouse. Your choice!

YALE DAILY NEWS · FRIDAY, FEBRUARY 15, 2013 · yaledailynews.com

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WEEKEND CLIMBS

OUTLAWS // BY CHARLIE KELLY AND DIANA SAVERIN

In the fall, we spent some time emailing each other pictures of the Grand Canyon and discussing “The Monkey Wrench Gang,” a fantasy novel about blowing up dams on the Colorado River. This book ignited dreams of our own Canyon visit. Plus, we had both seen one too many carefully cropped profile pictures of friends perched “alone” on the “edge” of the vast, red Canyon to put off a visit to another vacation in another season. When Diana, who was new to the Canyon, arrived at the South Rim, she quickly saw what was outside of the frame in all those pictures: of course, a canyon of greater grandeur than she could have ever imagined, but also many railings, fences, packs of tourists, gift shops, parking lots, shuttle buses, hotels. During her walk down the trail from the South Rim, she reveled in the views and tried not to be distracted by the mules, the traffic on the trail, and the signs warning her about plagueinfected squirrels. When she got to the river that afternoon, ready to set up her tent for a night of solo camping in the Canyon, she discovered an entire city of tents and cabins along a creek, complete with bathrooms, water fountains, and a restaurant, “The Canteen,” that sold Snickers, beers and over-priced chili. It felt like a resort. Charlie had visited the Canyon before and was, therefore, slightly less idealistic about its magic wilds and opportunities for solitude. He had seen the tour buses, the weeping “junior rangers” refusing to get back into their parents’ minivans, and the families of Midwesterners going hard on their snacks from the canyon-side “soda fountain.” This was only the South Rim, though. The trails between the top of the South Rim and the bottom of the Canyon were deemed “corridor trails.” They are the most popular and manicured in the Canyon. At the far end of these corridor trails was the North Rim: the uninhabited, snowy edge of the Canyon. The North Rim was still wild. We wanted to go. In the winter, the North Rim’s gift shops and soda fountains shut down. Snow piles up and roads close and solitude is possible. So, after a Snickers breakfast at the Canteen, we began to walk north. It was more of a wander than a hike. The sun was high and the trail wide. We ate more Snickers and stopped

to play at a skinny waterfall that makes otherwise red and crumbly rock mossy and green. For the first seven miles, we admired the views and thought of nothing beyond Cottonwood Campground, a halfway point between the Colorado River and the North Rim. When we arrived at the campground, though, it was dark. We sat at a picnic table for an hour eating cheese and salsa. We began to wonder if we could actually make it to the North Rim that night, or if we should just stay at the campground. To parties less optimistic and obsessive, staying would have been the obvious choice. We were at a campground. We had a tent, two sleeping bags, food, water, and a permit allowing us to camp there (a permit that did not apply to the North Rim). Plus, it was not getting warmer.

THE UNINHABITED, SNOWY EDGE OF THE CANYON. THE NORTH RIM WAS STILL WILD. But, after an hour of lively debate, we started walking again. We decided that seven more miles and 4,000 feet of elevation gain in the snowy dark would take us two hours, maybe three. Soon, we’d be warm under the round roof of the North Rim yurt. We didn’t have a permit to stay in it, but it was winter. The North Rim, and its glorious yurt, would be empty (the yurt had carpeting and a woodstove). We thought we might read a little before going to sleep. Charlie carried “Leaves of Grass.” With one headlamp, we walked. The snow got deeper. We stopped to eat Snickers, from time to time, and listen to our voices echo off the rocks. At one point, we became convinced we had stumbled upon a secret civilization because our headlamp gleamed back yellow eyes from deep in the snowy valley (Diana believed it was Hayduke from “The Monkey Wrench Gang,” haunting the rocks and plotting ways to keep them wild; Charlie thought that it was the secret valley from “Atlas Shrugged,” purported to be about 400 miles northeast of the Canyon but why, if secret, would Ayn tell the truth about its location?). Our steps slowed and stuttered. The snow was heavy. We ran out of water. We started melting snow in a pot over our camp stove. We spilled our first pot of water (Diana’s fault). We couldn’t find the last Snickers (Charlie’s fault). We checked

for symptoms of hypothermia. We cursed the signs about the Canyon’s geology because they looked, time after time, like ones that might tell us how many miles we had left to walk. At 2 a.m., the light of our headlamp ricocheted off of a sign bigger than the others. We started running. There was a parking lot at the top of the hill. We found another sign with a map and were too delirious and ecstatic to read it. We screamed for joy. We had made it. We ran around the parking lot and tried to find the yurt. The map said it was 0.2 mile away. Charlie decided we should split up and try to find the yurt off the road by wading through the surrounding waist-deep snow. We ran back to the map many times, searching for clues. But, after an hour of panicked search, the exhaustion caught up with us. We had no water and had not located the ghost Snickers. We were all alone in a snowedin desert. The only fresh footprints and howls across the parking lot belonged to us. We felt wild. Hours later, after setting up the tent on snowed-in pavement, morning light filtered through the plastic walls. Charlie couldn’t walk because of his blisters, but had to pee. He hobbled toward the woods. Then a ranger, standing across the desolate parking lot, started screaming to ask if Charlie was “trying to run away.” The ranger had a radio strapped to his chest and a handgun strapped to his belt and sunglasses strapped to his face. This ranger (Ranger Walker) came over and asked if we had alcohol or marijuana or machetes before walking ominously back to his truck with our names and license numbers. Many North Rim visitors, apparently, get drunk and high and harbor obscure weaponry.

AFTER RACING UP THE TRAIL ALL DAY, WE STOPPED JUST SHORT OF THE SOUTH RIM AND WATCHED THE SKY MOVE. He listed our many offenses: camping without a permit ($75), camping in a non-designated campground ($75), camping with a side of disorderly conduct ($250). He emphasized that he was letting us off easy, only charging us $75 for camping in a non-designated area, even though our conduct was clearly disorderly. Charlie felt noble and offered to sacrifice his previously clean national park criminal record. Ranger Walker wrote the ticket in Charlie’s name. As the

ranger wrote the ticket, he told us it got lonely on the North Rim in the winter. Then, he took us in his pickup truck to get non-snowmelted-water. The truck was full of guns. When he dropped us off, Ranger Walker told us to walk back to the other side of the Canyon. On the way down from the North Rim, we talked about blisters, almond desserts and fidelity. We admired icicles dripping low from the cliffs across the way and rhapsodized about ravens gliding on a shaft of wind above us. The memory of Ranger Walker occasionally came back against our will, as we retraced our steps past signs about geology and plagued squirrels and runners who run too far and die of thirst. We found our way back to the campground by the Colorado River, where we had a silent, Snickers dinner in the Canteen. The next day, we had a jolly walk up to the South Rim beneath the only clouds we had seen since arriving in the Canyon. We discussed this new sky at length and decided we were grateful for it. The clouds splattered shadows and showed us colors we hadn’t yet seen in the Canyon — purples and blues in the red rocks. After racing up the trail all day, we stopped just short of the South Rim and watched the sky move. Diana squinted at ravens she was sure were condors. Charlie made promises about coming back to the Canyon. Then, we walked up to soda fountains and hotels and parking lots and the shuttle buses from Las Vegas and to the airports and parents and bluebooking and goddamn email threads. Diana took a photo of the Canyon at sunset that’s still her iPhone’s background and Charlie took a rock from the Canyon (which is illegal) that still sits on his desk. Back in New Haven, we still find time to ask each other, “Why aren’t we in the desert?” and also “What if we were on the North Rim right now?” It turns out it is possible to long for a place even if it accused you of a felony, even if it is full of plagued squirrels, and even if it isn’t the wilderness you imagined it to be. Contact CHARLIE KELLY at charlie.kelly@yale.edu . Contact DIANA SAVERIN at diana.saverin@yale.edu .

// MADELEINE WITT

S AT U R D AY F E B RUA RY 1 6

“NERVOUS MAGIC LANTERN: AN EVENING WITH KEN AND FLO JACOBS”

Whitney Humanities Center Auditorium // 8:30 p.m. A nervous magic lantern is an empty box that can conjure 3-D illusions and other visual phenomena. WHAT. THE. FUCK. Postwar experimental cinema at its finest.

WEEKEND RECOMMENDS: Clementines

Sweet, petite, juicy. You can put ’em in your pocket and eat one on the go. Such darling fruit.

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YALE DAILY NEWS · FRIDAY, FEBRUARY 15, 2013 · yaledailynews.com

WEEKEND COLUMNS

IF ONLY IT HAPPENED EVERY NIGHT? // BY BECCA EDELMAN

There’s nothing embarrassing about loving a good romcom. “When Harry Met Sally,” “Pretty Woman” — I’ve watched them all more times than I can say. I count Nora Ephron among my Hollywood heroes, one of the only women to successfully direct, write and produce in an overwhelmingly male industry. But the history of romantic comedies goes far past the 1980s, past “Sleepless in Seattle,” “Dirty Dancing,” and even “Annie Hall.” And in honor of Valentine’s Day, I’d like to pay a tribute to where the Nora Ephrons and Nancy Meyers of today learned all of their tricks, one of my favorite rom-coms of all time, and one of my favorite films of all time: Frank Capra’s 1934 classic “It Happened One Night.” The film fits historically into the category of “screwball comedies,” a staple of American cinema in the 1930s and ’40s. A sheltered rich girl, Ellie, played by an adorable Claudette Colbert, runs away from her overbearing father to find the famous aviator with whom she has recently eloped. Along the way, she meets down-and-out newspaper man Peter, played by my absolute favorite classical Hollywood actor, Clark Gable (really, what woman isn’t in love with Rhett Butler?). Peter takes the clueless Ellie under his wing, originally for a story that might revi-

BECCA EDELMAN A CASE FOR CINEMA talize his career, but quite quickly for something more. As they bus, hitchhike and generally meander their way up the East Coast, Peter teaches Ellie to live without her aristocratic tendencies, and Ellie forgets about her dud of a pilot. In its use of quick, witty dialog, a strong female lead and situations verging on the absurd, “It Happened One Night,” in terms of genre, fits with movies of its time like Howard Hawkes’ “Bringing Up Baby” or “My Girl Friday” (incidentally also centered on the newspaper business), George Cukor’s “The Philadelphia Story” or Preston Sturges’ “The Lady Eve.” Even the first time I watched “It Happened Last Night,” I noticed that something made the film stand out from its contemporaries. Something about the dialog, the situation and the genuine frankness of the film felt significantly more modern. As it turns out, that’s where history comes into play. Beginning in 1934, when “It Happened One Night” was released, Hollywood imposed a set of production codes on itself in an attempt to avoid any sort of legal censorship. Until the early 1960s, when Hitchcock still had to argue to

show the first on-screen toilet in “Psycho,” there would be nothing deemed inappropriate or adverse to American values in Hollywood movies: no profanity, no drugs, no sex or nudity, whether explicit or merely implied. Let me be frank: “It Happened One Night” is in no way an avant-garde film, or at all explicit or racy by today’s standards. It follows the classical cinema model of pushing good family values. When Gable and Colbert share a hotel room, they hang a blanket between their two beds. No sex is ever shown in the film, but “It Happened One Night” still pushes boundaries. Gable often appears shirtless and threatens to take off all of his clothes. Colbert wears only a negligee, which she throws over their makeshift barrier in certain scenes, implying her nudity. Further, the final scene of the film depicts the tearing down of “the walls of Jericho,” a joking euphemism used by the couple for the wall. While not an explicit sex scene, tearing down the barrier between the two beds is about as close as 1930s major Hollywood films get. Because “It Happened One Night” was released just on the border of the enforcement of the production codes, the film feels a bit less prude to modern viewers than some of its contemporaries might. Still, “It Happened One Night” is tied inextricably to its

time period not only in its genre, but also in its theme of class and wealth, reflecting on the ongoing Great Depression. Like Sturges’ later “Sullivan’s Travels” (1941), the film mocks the rich for their inability to live like common, down-to-earth Americans. The film portrays an America of brotherhood and community: An old woman helps Ellie to buy her bus ticket, passengers rush to the aid of a woman who faints of hunger and the entire bus sings folk songs together. Ellie learns to love this community atmosphere, forgetting and eventually resisting her aristocratic home. Rather than the wealthy, famous aviator, representative of Ellie’s aristocratic life, it is Peter and his road trip that win Ellie in the end. The Depression-era audience flocked to the movies, a relatively inexpensive way to briefly escape their worries; “It Happened One Night” plays to such an audience in its disavowal of wealth and validation of the American community. The wonder of “It Happened One Night” is its ability to be at once timely and timeless, a representation of its era and yet a paradigm for years of romantic comedies to come. In the end, its story is simple and universal: Two characters who seem to have nothing in common go through various struggles, at times against one another, at times

// CREATIVE COMMONS

with one another, and eventually find that in fact they have everything in common. It’s “You’ve Got Mail” and it’s “Something’s Gotta Give.” It’s the story that we have gone to the movies to see for

the past 100 years, and will continue to go see for as long as movies are made. Contact BECCA EDELMAN at rebecca.edelman@yale.edu .

The Historian Who Changed History:“Howard Zinn: A Life on the Left”

Laying House of Cards On the Table

// BY SCOTT STERN

SN: We ended our discussion of finales with speculation about where television and its audience will go from here. Several beloved shows are having their swan songs, and we feared the networks were entering a (very) fallow period. And then, as if the heavens heard us and felt compelled to answer, Netflix released “House of Cards.” With a $100 million budget, a cast of bona fide movie stars and David Fincher directing, Netflix’s first original program immediately established itself as “serious” television — that is, when it wasn’t being called a very long feature film by its writer-showrunner, Beau Willimon. Even more unorthodox, Netflix released all 13 episodes of the first season at once, catering to the large bingewatching demographic among its subscribers. Given all this, do we consider “House of Cards” television? Does its model herald the end of television as we know it? And does it even work as entertainment?

Sadly, it was a story about a historian destroying history. In 2008, the infamous 86-year-old historian and activist Howard Zinn scoured his personal archives for any document that related to his personal life. Then he burned them. In his new biography of Zinn, “Howard Zinn: A Life on the Left,” professor and playwright Martin Duberman tried to tell Zinn’s story without these vital records. Duberman acknowledged in the introduction to his book that the story of Zinn’s life would be palpably lacking because of the absence of the personal, but it is worth dwelling for a moment on what we lost. Howard Zinn was one of the most influential historians in American history. (We’ll get to that in a moment.) But he was also a husband, a father and a friend. He had an affair. He fought in a war. He got fired. He got arrested. And because of the plethora of records lost, we’ll never definitively know how he felt during any of this. According to Duberman, Zinn destroyed his records because he wanted any story of his life to be “about political, not private, matters.” Zinn’s political life and ideology were remarkable. He was born to a poor family of Russian refugees, and lived the iconic childhood of the Jewish Brooklyn working class at this time: He struggled through high school (the only one of four brothers to graduate), fought in World War II and then returned home to attend college on the G.I. Bill. It took Zinn six years to earn his bachelor’s degree, as he was working the whole time. Eventually, he achieved his doctorate from Columbia, writing a highly influential dissertation about New York Mayor Fiorello LaGuardia. Zinn’s service as a bombardier during World War II is particularly interesting, as Zinn later vociferously denounced war. He did this as a lifelong academic, first at Spelman College in Atlanta, then at Boston University. Spelman was (and is) a historically black college for women, and Zinn chose to teach there during the heart of the civil rights movement (from the mid-1950s until 1963). Zinn was a popular professor and wrote prolifically, yet he was incredibly politically involved, getting arrested several times and picking fights with his school’s own administration over the freedom they allowed the “young ladies” to join in the protests. Zinn was controversially (and perhaps illegally) denied tenure, and took a job at Boston University. There, his run-ins with school officials and his political activity only escalated. Zinn protested against the Vietnam War and segregation, American intervention and nuclear weap-

S U N D AY F E B RUA RY 17

SCOTT STERN READING BETWEEN THE LINES ons. He also wanted to give the students more of a voice in decision-making, pushing this to the point of endangering his job once again. As a professor, Zinn wrote prolifically. He is best known, of course, for his epic 1980 history text, “A People’s History of the United States,” which presented a biography of the country from the bottom up. It highlighted the struggle of the working class and the poor, the Natives, African-Americans, socialists, rioters, women, laborers, populists and slaves. Along with many other works, “A People’s History” defines Zinn’s legacy — radical and unabashed, using the past to influence the future. As Duberman notes (and reviewer Samuel Thrope dwells on in more detail), lack of interest in the personal permeated Zinn’s life and works. He was as uninterested in preserving the feelings of historical figures as he was of his own, and his works are sometimes derided for presenting flat characters (i.e., selfish capitalists, principled socialists). Zinn sought to make himself one of his subjects, disconnected from the personal — that “trivial or esoteric inquiry,” as he put it in 1969. To Zinn, actions (especially political actions) were all that mattered. I have one true complaint about “Howard Zinn: A Life on the Left,” and I am hesitant to bring it up at all. I shouldn’t, really; I was forewarned. In the introduction, Duberman wrote that he and “Howard” (as he always called him) “largely shared political values,” and that Duberman also shared Zinn’s skepticism of “so-called ‘objective’ history.” Yet Duberman’s biography strikes me as especially unobjective. Duberman would give his own incredibly radical opinions as facts, without adequately presenting the other side of any argument. Passages about political criticisms of Zinn are imbibed with incredulity, as if most people don’t disagree. I identify as someone who is with Zinn on most issues, and at times I found myself nodding and nearly voicing “Amen” while reading this book. Yet at other times the overt politicality seemed unprofessional. And Duberman’s often excessive admiration for Zinn also diverts from the story. “Howard Zinn: A Life on the Left” is wellworth a read. Unbalanced and lacking in the personal, it nonetheless paints a much-needed picture of one of the great iconoclasts of the 20th century. Contact SCOTT STERN at scott.stern@yale.edu .

// BY SOPHIA NGUYEN AND GRAYSON CLARY

GC: I’m going to say it since Sophia didn’t: spoiler alert. I doubt anyone seeking out this column is worried we’re going to ruin much, but that’s the etiquette regardless. And yes, it works, with the exception of one plainly out-ofstep episode that threatened to derail my suite’s whole experience of the show (in brief: Spacey sings). It’s not just that the show can be watched all at once; it should be, because the story is tailored that way to great effect. Nothing felt compressed or overlong, nothing dawdled or outpaced itself. I’m impressed as all that Fincher & Co. struck that balance on the first outing. And it’s so fun; good God is it fun to watch Frank Underwood (Kevin Spacey) smear barbecue sauce on a photo of the president. He plots, he connives and he narrates it all in a luscious sweet-teaand-pecan-pie Southern accent. There’s tragedy, comedy and really very disturbing sexual encounters between Kate Mara and Spacey (on Father’s Day!). Robin Wright does a great Lady Macbeth as Underwood’s equally cool and calcu-

SOPHIA NGUYEN AND GRAYSON CLARY SPLIT SCREEN lating wife; “I love that woman,” Underwood drawls, “I love her more than a shark loves blood.” SN: “House of Cards” didn’t hold up as well for me as it did for you. The original British series managed to tell in four episodes what this show stretched over 13, which to me begs the question, why adhere to the 13-episode structure? (Other than the fact that the premium channels do it, that is.) Which is my way of getting at my biggest criticism: the pacing. The traditional television show, delivering a single story installment each week, has to construct each episode to sustain attention from week to week. “House of Cards” doesn’t have that handicap, and as a result, its episodes are not as self-contained, as tightly plotted. Netflix assumed, probably rightly, that the habits of marathoners meant that they would continue watching out of pure inertia. Would their show have stood the test of a normal broadcast schedule, stretched over the course of months? Perhaps this distribution model means that in the future, showrunners will be sheltered from the vagaries of ratings systems and fickle audiences. But without the constraints of the form, “House of Cards” loses its shape. When you were trying to get me to watch the show, you called it “power porn,” and I can see that: A lot of its pleasures are concentrated in moments in which characters demonstrate their influence over one another. “House of Cards” lays itself bare when, after a particularly joyless tryst, Underwood quotes Wilde at Barnes: “Everything is about sex, except sex. Sex is about power.” That monomaniacal interest in power dynamics sometimes torques the plot beyond enjoyableness, resulting in drawn-out sequences that are supposed to be

SCREENING OF “THE TRILOGY”

GC: Isn’t unclear and awful kind of the show’s intentional mode though? I think most of the episodes leave ambiguous, at least temporarily and not unknowingly, how the means in play connect with the ends down the road; what’s engrossing is that the means are so sadistically dirty. And the puzzles don’t make sense until the last piece is about to be slotted in, but then, oh the beauty of it all! The double discovery that Congressman Russo is designed to implode during the gubernatorial campaign so that the vice presidency will open up, and we realize that Spacey is willing to kill to tidy up the shattered would-be-governor: priceless. That doesn’t push the right buttons for you? SN: I hate to do that thing that all TV snobs do, but I’m going to do it: I’m invoking “The Wire,” “Breaking Bad” and all those other grim feel-bad shows that force you into catharsis by dangling you over the deepening pit of your own despair. Those are shows that know how to set up the final piece of the puzzle. Those are shows that have energy, even in ambiguity. GC: Well, I haven’t watched either of those shows because people talk about them too much. But if they’ve spoiled you for this great tar-monsters-gropingeach-other-in-the-cesspoolof-government drama, then I’m deeply sorry. Because I love it. I love it more than a shark loves blood. Contact SOPHIA NGUYEN and GRAYSON CLARY at sophia.nguyen@yale.edu and grayson.clary@yale.edu .

WEEKEND RECOMMENDS:

Whitney Humanities Center // 5 p.m. The Hellenic Studies Program screens a Gregory Markopoulos favorite.

charged with tension but end up seeming wooden and pointless. Why, for instance, does Barnes try on Claire Underwood’s dress? It’s an image intended to titillate us in one way or another, but it seems totally without motivation. The show loses its drive. That slick gray wash that Fincher does so well begins to look a bit wan.

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YALE DAILY NEWS · FRIDAY, FEBRUARY 15, 2013 · yaledailynews.com

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WEEKEND THEATER

GETTING PERSONAL:‘THE VAGINA MONOLOGUES’COMBINES HUMOR AND HEART // BY PAYAL MARATHE

I have to admit there is a lot I do not know about vaginas. To be honest, I didn’t think there was that much to know. I never had the feminist impulse to inquire about vaginas or to consider what my vagina means to me. I never really said the word aloud. My conservatism probably made me an ideal audience member for “The Vagina Monologues,” because the show shoves itself in your face, bringing “vagina-shy” audience members face to face with the physical, emotional and spiritual aspects of what’s down there. This all-female cast performance of the “The Vagina Monologues” forces audience members to confront questions about vaginas they never were willing to admit they wanted answers to. Each monologue is honest and overwhelming, and the accumulation of stories seems to aim to demonstrate that there is no shame in sharing your thoughts and experiences when it comes to our most intimate spaces. Once the show begins, there is no escape. I was drawn in because of the sincerity of the monologues. One was a heart-wrenching account of premenstrual dysphoric disorder, a kind of extreme version of PMS, performed with such nuance that I actually remember the technical phrase “premenstrual dysphoric disorder.” I was drawn in because of the round-table setup in Calhoun Cabaret, and the cast’s frequent interaction with the audience. They asked me personally how disgusted I was by yeast infections, and even forced me to say the word

“cunt” loudly and proudly, twice. I was drawn in because, at one point there was a girl lying on her back, demonstrating the different styles of sex moans. I could neither look away nor contain my laughter, especially when she got to the college student’s sex moan — “ohhhh, I should be studying, ohhhh, I should be studying.” And throughout the play, even when I was not about to laugh or cry or throw up in my mouth a little bit, I was impressed by the cast’s dynamic and poise. As one cast member explained, everyone working on this play chose to get involved because they consider these stories important. This passion shows through the unashamed narrations of monologues. In addition to the content of the original play by Eve Ensler, cast members have included selfwritten, personal vagina monologues, blended seamlessly into the script. These supplemental monologues stay true to the core feminist message and they amplify the honesty and sincerity of the play as a whole. The scripted and personal monologues also strike a good balance between humor and more serious topics. The play jumps from one girl’s candid confession that she has never been in love to a story of childhood sexual harassment, to an explanation of the logic behind masturbation — “you’re doing for yourself what a guy could do for you, which is not just a feminist yes, but a lifetime yes.” The mixture of drama, tragedy, sex and humor makes the play thought-provoking, but not

// SAMANTHA GARDNER

A handful of women in Yale’s theater scene get pretty real in “The VM.”

depressing, entertaining, but not trivial. The messages of this play are important. “The Vagina Monologues” will be performed in the Calhoun Cabaret tonight and tomorrow at 8 p.m., and although there is no ticket price, donations collected at the shows will be sent to a domestic abuse center in New Haven. What’s not to like? Contact PAYAL MARATHE at payal.marathe@yale.edu .

All the Melodrama, All at Once // BY JACKSON MCHENRY

The most engaging scenes in “Generations” occur when two or three conversations happen at once — when two parents lie asleep on the couch while their children, still high, discuss their love lives in another room; or when a sister stands on one half of the stage in her wedding dress while her brother, crushed by his first attempt at coming out, screams out for her help on the other side. The Yale Dramat play prides itself on this ambitious sort of crosscutting through time. Written by Jesse Schreck ’14 and directed by Zeke Blackwell ’13, the project is the first studentwritten production at the Dramat in two years and, considering this sort of institutional support, it aims high. In his director’s note, Blackwell refers to the script as a “palimp-

sest,” an old manuscript that has been written over several times at several different moments in time. Schreck isolates several moments in the lives of the middle class Rothberg family — from prom and weddings, to trips to the hospital and the beginnings of divorce — and then runs them against each other. This construct works most powerfully when it explores the relationship between older brother, Ben (David Martinez ’13) and younger sister, Emma (Kat Lau ’13) whose adolescences follow a roller coaster of alternating ups and downs. Ben seems to be the most put together, but is closeted. Emma, on the other hand, has an abortion, but remains a source of youthful energy and unexpected wisdom. Both struggle with their feelings for the same high school classmate,

Michael (Nathaniel Janis ’13). While their struggles are standard-issue adolescent trauma, Schreck’s script occasionally gives its actors ample breathing room in subtle scenes with emotional extremes that end up carrying more weight than the breakdowns themselves. An early scene, in which Emma makes fun of Ben’s new boyfriend, a flautist, succeeds by letting Lau and Martinez play off each other comfortably. Unfortunately, the scenes featuring the Rothberg parents, Sarah (Amy Napleton ’14), an overworked lawyer, and Greg (Kyle Clark ’13), a Newspaper columnist, never reach this level of ease. The characters spend the play dealing with the now permanent fissures in their marriage, but are never given significant moments of action, even

S U N D AY

COMMEDIA DELL’ARTE WORKSHOP

F E B RUA RY 17

Learn about Italian Renaissance theater with Jon Stancato.

their eventual divorce is mentioned offhand. This is partially due to the writing, which reaches for intimacy, but stutters in the execution. The parents share an obsession with crosswords and a trip to an old lake house, but these inclusions feel more rote than real.

THE PLAY ASKS WHETHER OUR DARKEST MOMENTS ARE STILL IMPORTANT WHEN WE KNOW THEY WILL END. To that end, the play functions most strongly when Schreck por-

trays the parents’ lives as a background for the struggles of the children. The stage splits into two bedrooms and a living room and, often, separate scenes take place simultaneously in separate spaces. One conversation, usually between Ben and Emma, tends to take the lead while the other, usually between their parents, runs counterpoint. At its most successful, this gives the play moments of clarity in which it can directly comment on what seems pressing in the moment, worries about prom or boyfriends, with what lasts, family ties. “Generations” begins and ends with Ben’s toast at Emma’s wedding. This bookending gives Schreck the necessary perspective to carry his characters through their lowest lows, including a suicide attempt,

which is almost expected, given the intensity of the rest of the plot. The play itself centers on the influence of perspective, asking whether our darkest moments are still important when we know they will end. At times, “Generations” becomes stuck in those standard, dark revelations — how hard it is to grow up, how easy it is to fall apart. Ultimately, the play is saved by its own conceit. If run chronologically, the play would merely chronicle a struggle that has been seen several times. But, as the play cuts to and from the end result, the performers occasionally get the chance to look back on the chaos and ask, what matters now? Contact JACKSON MCHENRY at jackson.mchenry@yale.edu .

WEEKEND RECOMMENDS:

Theater Studies Ballroom // 6:30 p.m.

116 Crown

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YALE DAILY NEWS · FRIDAY, FEBRUARY 15, 2013 · yaledailynews.com

WEEKEND BACKSTAGE

REBECCA DANA ’04

‘CARRIE BRADSHAW WAS NOT THE ONLY PROPHET OF NEW YORK CITY’

// TERRY GRUBER

// BY YUVAL BEN-DAVID

YB: So, I just want to hear it from someone else: What’s so bad about Pittsburgh, and what’s so great about New York? RD: When I was a kid, I grew up on a cul-de-sac in a suburb of Pittsburgh, and I was nerdy and little and awkward and quiet, and I spent an enormous amount of time up in my room watching TV shows and reading books and dreaming about my life as a grown-up. It has nothing to do with problems with Pittsburgh, which is a lovely place, actually, and I went to great schools and met great people. It has everything to do with who I was as a kid and the fantasies I had and the future that I imagined for myself. And for whatever reason — and certainly I’m not alone here, there are a lot of people, and perhaps you’re one of them — who were really taken by the fantasy of New York City. And other people have their own versions of it, of going someplace. I think it’s very natural, the dream of being one particular thing when you grow up. YB: For me, that escape for the past few years has been Yale. RD: Yeah, Yale was part of it for me also. I think you live in your head as a kid, and everyone to some extent does, but, for me, it was extreme. I spent a lot of time in this imaginary world — you imagine all the steps you’re going to take to get there. And Yale was certainly a part of it. Yale was really far away from my childhood, and I didn’t have a bad childhood, just a boring, lonely, nerdy childhood. YB: But you do mention Harold Bloom GRD ’56 in the book, and you mention that he taught you most of what you know about love. So what did he teach you?

RD: I don’t know if Professor Bloom even knows that this book exists, and I can’t even imagine what his reaction would be, because we didn’t know each other well at all. I just took a few of his classes and interviewed him and got to know him a little bit extracurricularly. I studied Shakespeare and poetry with him, and just hearing him … he was an oracular figure to me. You turn to whatever you turn to, when you want to understand what you’re feeling, when you want to understand the world and the human condition. You turn to the Bible, or “War and Peace,” or your mother, father or some important figure in your life. And for me, professor Bloom just filled that hole, you could say. I found him to be so brilliant and so wise and so unbelievably kind, and to have such an enormous emotional depth and generosity about him. I was nobody special at all, and he was so kind to me. It was nothing more than a very traditional student-teacher relationship. If you called him, he might recognize me. I’ve seen him since I left school, and he’s always recognized me. I’m sure if you asked him he’d have no idea that he had such a profound effect on my life. YB: You should send him the book. I’m sure he’ll read it in two seconds, with his reading speed. RD: I’m so terrified to send him the book. My book is so far from Shakespeare, I can’t imagine. … You’re right, though, I should. He’ll read the whole thing before he even opens the cover. YB: It’s funny that you say that the book is so far from Shakespeare, because I placed it in the vein of the HBO show “Girls,” which is all about reforming Carrie Bradshaw, or seeing the rawer, more

Shakespearian side of the New York 20-something woman. RD: I think it’s a generational response. I love the comparison to “Girls” — I totally worship Lena Dunham, and I think the show is brilliant. I try to deal with similar things in my book. I think we’re coming from different places. Both having grown up watching “Sex and the City” and having it be such a major influence on our lives and on our imaginary lives — on who we wanted to be — and then finding life to be different in big and important ways, we have to contend with the space between. I love “Girls,” and I hope people will connect to my story the way they’ve connected to “Girls,” as a kind of answer, response or kind of updated version of “Sex and the City.” YB: So what ever happened to Carrie Bradshaw? RD: I think she’s still here. It’s Fashion Week in New York, so you can’t throw a rock without hitting Carrie Bradshaw right now. That woman is a generation older than I am, so I can’t really speak for her. I can say that I worked very hard to get to the life that she lived when she was my age, and in my experience it fell short of what I wanted it to be in a bunch of important ways. I thought, “If I could just be like those women…” And I want to say that it’s not just Carrie Bradshaw — I’m not just a brainless girl who grew up glued to “Sex and the City” — but it’s this whole mythology that you get from reading Tom Wolfe and watching Woody Allen movies. Carrie Bradshaw was not the only prophet of New York City. All of them together built into this fantasy for me of a very particular life — and I got pretty damn close to that life. I wore the

right clothes, I went to the right parties and I had the right job. And I found, in some big ways, that it ended up being unfulfilling for me, or not everything that I wanted it to be.

RD: I’m so happy to hear that. Thank you so much. It really is a strange experience to write something so personal and put it out into the world. The writing process is very solitary: I spent a lot of time alone in a room, hunched over a laptop working on this book. And then it’s as if someone flips a switch, and this very personal story — and the process of committing it to paper was very personal — all of a sudden becomes very public. I did an interview where I compared it to sending your baby into the woods to potentially be mauled by wolves. That’s how it feels. I’ve never felt so vulnerable and so exposed. There’s a beauty in that, and a majesty — there’s a real high in it — and there’s also a real terror.

YB: And that’s what the book is about.

YB: I hear you’re married now! So how does that not make it into the book?

RD: When I talk about the book in interviews, I always think that it doesn’t sound funny at all, and I really wanted this to be a funny, sweet book about a very relatable person — me, I hope I’m relatable — just dealing with being in your 20s and with the life that you dreamed of just come crashing down on your head. At the time I first started writing, it seemed to me like the worst thing that ever happened to anybody. But in fact it turns out to be something that literally everyone goes through in some form. So I’m not special at all. But I just hope the book is a funny story about looking for meaning when your initial dreams about adulthood fall apart.

RD: In the course of writing the book, I met my husband who is the great light and joy of my life. Left to my own devices, I could do nothing for the rest of my life except write books about how much I love him, as cheesy as that sounds. But I didn’t want to do that. I didn’t want this book to be about a girl who goes from one guy to another. I didn’t want love and marriage to be the solution, even though in my life they have brought so much meaning

YB: Do you think the actual process of writing the book was a step, or even a culmination, of that journey for meaning? RD: Oh, yeah. The process of writing the book was so strange, because I wrote the first draft as I was living it, and I wrote the next draft the next year. I wrote the book in the course of one year, and I revised it in the course of a second year, which is a very weird thing to do because your perspective changes so much. Your life has moved on. Then I revised the book a second time, so that was a third year. It was, all told, three years between getting the book deal and publication day. YB: I loved the book.

and joy, because I think in a lot of books by women, and especially memoirs, the temptation is strong to find an easy solution. And very often love, or a boy, is the solution. I joked with my husband when we were working on the cover for the book. I was talking about worst-case scenario covers, before I saw what Putnam came back with — and, by the way, I love what they did — and the worst-case scenario was a cartoon girl in high heels with a thought bubble and a man in it. That was my nightmare. I wanted the book to be as authentic as humanly possible. I didn’t want any cheap solutions, I didn’t want any easy answers. My marriage is too precious for me to write about. I want some things to be private and personal, and that is one of those things. YB: You end the book with the words, “We’re not fucked … we’re fine.” Are the 20-somethings all right? RD: Yeah, come on. There are so many problems in this world. We privileged Yale kids who come to New York and have “existential crises” and try to find meaning in our lives — we’re fine. Everyone’s gonna be fine. Contact YUVAL BEN-DAVID at yuval.ben-david@yale.edu .

“

I DIDN’T WANT THIS BOOK TO BE ABOUT A GIRL WHO GOES FROM ONE GUY TO ANOTHER. I DIDN’T WANT LOVE AND MARRIAGE TO BE THE SOLUTION.

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omewhere in the family tree of Carrie Bradshaw and Lena Dunham sits Rebecca Dana ’04, the author of the recently released “Jujitsu Rabbi and the Godless Blonde,” former senior correspondent for The Daily Beast and former editor in chief of the Yale Daily News. “I feel like we have a freakish amount in common,” Dana told me. We are both Pittsburgh runaways. We went to the same synagogue and high school; we even had the same high school role model. (“I’m smacking my head right now, literally, because I feel like he would have been perfect to put in the book,” she said.) A memoir, “Jujitsu Rabbi” follows a girl on her spiritual pilgrimage from the suburbs of Pittsburgh to Manhattan — where she nearly has it all — and then to Brooklyn, where she moves in with a disillusioned rabbi, nurses her First World wounds and re-examines her lifelong priorities.