"I Like It!"
recommendations part ?/?
The thing that ultimately got me to draft a newsletter after thinking about it for months was an email popping up in my own inbox—subject line: “The Particular Pleasure of the Internet Rec.”
When I got the latest installment from Anne Helen Petersen’s Culture Study, it felt like she was speaking directly to me. (A feeling that, as she explores, is what the whole internet recommendations ecosystem is based on.)
“Because here’s the truth: we love reading recommendations, but we also love recommending things to others.”
That’s the reason I started this newsletter (aside from the cajoling of friends). I wanted an outlet for all the things I want to recommend, to all the people, all the time.
I find few things as satisfying as when someone tells me they loved a book, or show, or podcast I mentioned. When they say they were also surprised at what they learned from an article. Or when they finally start using Poshmark at my repeated urging, sending me photos of the clothing they had been pining after, bought secondhand at a discount.
That said, I don’t need everyone to unequivocally love all the things I recommend either—I’m fascinated when someone has a different reaction than me, and enjoy the spirited discussion that follows. But I take care to only share (whether in-person or online), things I genuinely thing are worth the time and energy to explore.
Once a friend told me she flat-out hated a book I recommended, and that she was shocked because I had never failed her like that before. It turned out someone else had in fact recommended that book.
In her newsletter, Petersen explores the skill involved in certain kinds of recommendations, especially those that meet a specific need.
“That sort of recommendation is often a matter of chance or real thoughtfulness….Like instead of recommending something that replicates the thing as closely as possible, but a thing with the same aura.
That’s specialized work. And people who did that work well — at the movie rental place, doing bra fittings at the department store, in actual music columns in actual newspapers, at the concierge desk at a nice hotel — have largely been eliminated from daily life. Those people understood their audience and customer, either as an individual or as a type, and knew how to translate what they said they were looking for into what they were actually looking for. That’s real skill, nearly unteachable. They were invaluable, which is precisely why most companies have decided to replace them with an algorithm that does the job for free.”
That expertise is why so many of us still love indie bookstores—you’ll find titles on their staff picks shelf or featured tables that you would never have come across browsing Amazon lists. (Notice when recommending books I don’t link to Amazon, but instead to Bookshop.org, which benefits independent bookstores! )
Side note: in her newsletter, Petersen links to this piece (also worth reading), “The Women’s Magazines of 2023 Are in a Facebook Group and Your Inbox.” It includes one of my favorite byline descriptors I’ve seen yet at NYTimes.com, while also inspiring weird feelings about how I’m old enough that my generation is writing for esteemed outlets, publishing books, etc.
An unrelated recommendation also about recommendations:
The essay “I Like It!” by Samantha Irby is from her latest book, the excerpt also published as “My Taste Is Basic. So What?” in Harper’s BAZAAR.
I don’t necessarily recommend the book the essay is included in—her fourth, titled “Quietly Hostile,” is my least favorite essay collection of hers. That said, if you somehow haven’t read “We are Never Meeting in Real Life” or “Meaty,” go request them from your library immediately. This email will be here when you get back.
While I don’t think her latest installment compares to her first two, which had me genuinely laughing out loud, I’m still thrilled I got to see Irby when she was on tour. She was hilarious as expected, but in particular I loved hearing “I Like It!” read aloud by one of my favorite former podcasters, Aminatou Sou.
The reading was back in May, and I’m still thinking about this essay where she writes:
“I don’t have a lot of coping mechanisms that aren’t wholly self-destructive, but here is one good one that I will recommend: saying I like things that I like.”
As I was trying to pull out the parts that explain the magic of this essay, I copied and pasted and deleted paragraphs adding up to about half the piece. So instead of asking you to read long block quotes I will just recommend clicking this link to read.
And now with minimal wordiness, a few more recommendations for listening, reading, watching:
I’ve been listening to the podcast “Vibe Check” sporadically since the beginning of the year, occasionally tuning in to hear Sam Sanders, Saeed Jones, and Zach Stafford chat about pop culture, news, and whatever else is on their mind that week. But the episode that surprisingly made me a weekly listener was a recording of their live show with Penn Badgley, an interview that I had no idea I needed to hear.
They explore the concept of delusion, talk about fame, and get into gender dynamics in media, including a mention of how the true crime phenomena is based on selling women’s trauma back to them. (Further thoughts on that particular idea to come, someday, maybe!)
That episode happened while Sam Sanders was on bereavement leave, mourning his mother. Upon his return, the three hosts have a moving conversation about grief in the episode “Life Has Been Lifing Lately,” sharing their common and divergent experiences. Among other things, they discussed writing about grief, which inspired me to finally read Saeed Jones’s memoir, “How We Fight for Our Lives.”
The book, lent by a friend, had been sitting on my shelf for nearly 5 years before I finally picked it up and devoured it in a matter of days. It’s very much a coming-of-age memoir, detailing a childhood growing up queer in suburban Texas, and a search for self in his 20s. The story is anchored throughout by Jones’s relationship with his single mother, who is living with congestive heart failure. It’s a short but devastating read, told in the kind of gorgeous prose you might expect from a poet.
The same friend recommended “Olga Dies Dreaming.” The novel centers a pair of adult siblings from a Puerto Rican family with roots in the rapidly gentrifying neighborhood of Sunset Park as they explore what it means to seek justice for their people. I’m not going to attempt to explain more, except to say it’s the best novel I’ve read in 2023 so far.
My last recommendation is another one I’m very late to, courtesy of different friend, who when I recently asked for some ideas of movies I should stream generously sent me a long list. It included “40-Year-Old-Version,” on Netflix, and I remembered how the trailer had caught my eye when it was released back in 2020, but I never got around to watching it. I wish I had earlier.
The film centers on a 39-year-old playwright most known for landing on a 30 under 30 list a decade ago, who turns to rap as a creative outlet when she continues to butt up against white theater gatekeepers. It’s a nuanced portrait of a non-white-male artist, as well as portrait of middle-age womanhood that doesn’t involve kids or a husband (but does also involve mourning a mother.)
Unfortunately when I’ve tried to recommend this movie verbally to everyone I know, they think I’m talking about “40-Year-Old-Virgin.” (Which I’ve also never seen in full.) But I just discovered it has a rare 99% critics approval on Rotten Tomatoes, if that helps convince anyone to give it a chance!
That’s all for now, until an undetermined next time when I can manage to funnel a few more of the thoughts clanging around in my brain onto the screen.
…had to share,
Jaime
p.s. Let me know your favorite links, and feel free to forward!