You saw these homes with secrets, right? Hidden doors and even rooms! Don’t they remind you of a recurring dream you’ve had for years? I know, ha ha, “those dreams are about a secret extra vagina” or something but actually I think living in New York for ten years makes the subconscious way literal in terms of real estate.

Jonathan Franzen is in my estimation America’s best living novelist (OKAY?) and a substantial number of people get upset whenever he writes or says basically anything. It’s interesting to ask why! In part it’s because his ideas about novels and what people respond to in them are provocative and controversial, and sometimes, as in his recent essay about Edith Wharton, he projects his own responses onto “us” in a way that can be irritating, if we disagree with him. Our opinion about his writing is also affected by of how rich he is and his gender and what he looks like, and that’s very hard to talk about. But that’s what he tried to talk about in “A Rooting Interest: Edith Wharton and the problem of sympathy.”

“I suspect that sympathy, or its absence, is involved in almost every reader’s literary judgments,” Franzen starts by saying. “Without sympathy, whether for the writer or for the fictional characters, a work of fiction has a very hard time mattering.” The work is just “a mirror for the writer’s character” anyway, he also says, so it doesn’t even matter whether which one we imagine that we like or dislike.

??!!

We could stop right here and have a fight or an MLA convention panel about this assertion, pretty much, without even getting into Edith Wharton’s purported unlikeability. Not only characters but authors have to be good eggs, mensches you’d like to join for a beer, for their novels to matter? Franzen has spent the last year working on the HBO show version of The Corrections; it’s not a huge stretch to imagine him sitting in all the related conference calls and meetings, playing a game with himself where he takes a sip of coffee every time anyone says the word “relatable” and then having to run to the bathroom halfway through, and then eventually being infected and brainwashed by this LA-borne virus. But this would seem to conflict with everything else we’ve ever read by or about this willfully unlikeable man or his prickly, antisocial, sometimes charmless characters (who yet manage to remind us, some of us at least, of so many people we’ve known and loved and hated and also ourselves.)

What’s complex and almost impossible to say, what I think that Franzen was trying to say when he called Wharton’s unprettiness “redeeming” and imagined that everyone takes pleasure from watching Lily Bart make the wrong choice at every opportunity, is that while we can piously pretend to be above concerns about looks and class when we’re talking about books, Jonathan Franzen doesn’t buy it. And I can appreciate the cojones that it takes to say that, even while I feel totally differently about Wharton, and about poor Lily Bart (she was so trapped! There were no right choices! How could anyone find watching that “delicious!” I cry every time!) than he does.

But then we have to deal with the other thing: the beauty thing, and the accusations of sexism that dog this guy. Because I agree with her entirely on this, I’ll just quote Molly Young here:

Franzen goes on to note that the absence of beauty “tends not to arouse our sympathy as much as other forms of privation do”. This is statistically true when it comes to daily, lived experience — Daniel Hamermesh wrote a whole book about how the homely are economically disadvantaged — but I don’t think it is true in theory; that is, I don’t think it’s true when a reader’s only conception of Wharton’s unattractiveness comes from a two-inch author photo on the book’s back fold.

The point is, Franzen’s idea that “Edith Wharton might well be more congenial to us now if…she’d looked like Grace Kelly or Jacqueline Kennedy” strikes me as bizarre and invidious. If he’d had the courage to replace “us” with “me”, the sentence would strike me as simply bizarre. I don’t object to the airing of quirky personal prejudices as part of a larger tribute, but it is arrogant and irresponsible to attribute these things to the entire reading world.

That’s what gets to me too, mostly, Franzen considering what he assumes we all think of as Wharton’s lack of looks as a mitigating factor against the contempt we assume we all feel towards her because she was rich. Those are his unattractive biases. Mine are a little different.

Sure, I’ll admit this: I’m probably more prone to enjoy books by people who aren’t gorgeous (sorry, Jhumpa) but ultimately it’s not a huge factor for me because I myself am still decent looking and will be for a good five more years or so if I’m lucky. But because I’m not rich, I have a hard time feeling sympathetic to the creative output of the very rich even if they look like Gerhardt Hapsburg. Although! If said people are long-dead they could be as lovely and rich as they like and it won’t have any affect on my opinion of their work. The real bonerkiller for me is when I find out someone (say, Tolstoy) was a terrible husband or father or was straight-up abusive to women. Then it gets much harder for me to see the books’ merits clearly, though I can still sometimes manage it.

Those just happen to be my unattractive personal biases, though. They probably are not yours and I wouldn’t dream of projecting them onto you.

The sad weird fact of the matter is that if we can only read books by objectively likeable people (whatever “objectively likeable” might mean) we are going to be stuck with a very empty bookshelf/Kobo. Almost all writers have some terrible trait, possibly because most people have some terrible trait. But let’s be real, writers moreso. They are kind of the worst. Oh, and listen up, (imaginary) people who are deciding whether to read Edith Wharton based on how they hear she treated her servants: The writers I’ve met whose books and public biographies would seem to indicate that they’re the kind of guy/gal you’d love to just hang out and get a drink/pedicure with? Those people are almost always the most rotten-souled, self-involved, boring, angry, petty ingrates imaginable. And they smell bad. Just take my word for it.

Okay, so! In conclusion, it’s unfortunate that Franzen projected his prejudices onto everyone, but he’s correct to call attention to the fact that we all have prejudices that influence our reading, regardless of what we were taught to pretend in school. And if your prejudices are preventing you from reading his books, by the way, you’re only denying yourself pleasure.

by Katie Heaney

If there’s one thing that Minnesotans love talking about, it’s how great Minnesota is. People from Minnesota are, in real life, what people from New York are like on television — there isn’t anywhere else that matters, unless it’s to serve as our mortal enemy (I’m looking at you, Wisconsin). We’re like the world’s friendliest braggarts. I grew up here and, in my role as a state proselytizer, I’ve so far managed to convert two Chicago-born college friends into Minnesotans, and it’s only a matter of time before I get to the rest of you.

Should you get a chance to visit the Twin Cities, here are some things you might enjoy doing. But first, a few notes about this guide. I don’t talk much about the nightlife here, because then I’d have to tell you that I can’t tell the difference between any two bars in Uptown. I won’t tell you about music venues, except to mention the legendary First Avenue (any Minnesotan who writes about Minneapolis without mentioning “the legendary First Avenue” is immediately exiled to Wisconsin), because I’m just not cool enough. What I can tell you about is the weird stuff, the super Minnesotan stuff, the stuff that makes me happiest to stick around.

The Minnesota State Fair, number one on the list, is for those of you who visit around Labor Day. The rest of the stops are in order of daytime to nighttime so you can start at one place, then keep moving forward until you’ve had yourself the best day of your life. At the end you’ll find some bonus recommendations from sometime-Twin Cities resident and Awl pal Abe Sauer.

1. Minnesota State Fair, Falcon Heights

The State Fair is halfway between the Twin Cities, so it gets to be on here even though it technically takes place in a suburb. Our State Fair is the country’s largest in terms of average daily attendance, and, one would imagine, in number of fried cheese curds and chocolate chip cookies consumed. I have been to the Fair at least a dozen times and I couldn’t tell you the first thing about what to do there other than eat cheese curds and cookies and pet goats. Those are really the main highlights, and I can’t see why you’d need more. If you do, there are many, many more things you can eat, some of which are even good.

2. The Science Museum of Minnesota, Saint Paul

Every perfect imaginary date I’ve ever had has taken place in the Science Museum. What could be more perfect than learning about the Coriolis effect with a cute person and then making out after? The Science Museum has everything I like. I like exhibits oriented more towards children than they are toward 25-year-old adults. I like dinosaur bones, and cell labs where you can wear a very tiny lab coat and examine your swabbed cheek cells under a microscope. The museum is generally great, but the traveling exhibits make it worth visiting a few times a year. One time they had a “CSI” exhibit in which I got to take notes on a staged murder scene, gather clues, and test “DNA” in the lab. Honestly, I think that’s probably the happiest I’ve ever been.

3. James J. Hill House, Saint Paul

I loved this old mansion the first time I visited, and I imagine I’d love it even more going today, when I’d undoubtedly pretend that it was Downton Abbey. Everyone likes a big, historic, insanely ostentatious mansion, right? James J. Hill is famous for building the Great Northern Railway, but his house is famous for hosting a kindergarten field trip in which my female classmates and I were made to reenact a ball by strolling down the grand main stairwell, one by one, in front of a bunch of clapping 5-year-old boys wearing foam collars. I haven’t had a roomful of boys applaud my entrance even once since then.

4. 35W Bridge, Minneapolis

Everyone here knows somebody who was on, or was almost on, the 35W bridge when it collapsed into the Mississippi. As for me, I crossed over it on my way to a Twins game three days earlier. I knew I had a reason to distrust bridges, and the collapse was extremely unsettling proof. Our new bridge, while perhaps not the grandest architecture I’ve ever seen, has its perks. One is that it can be lit up in rainbows for Gay Pride weekend. Another is that when you’re driving on it and looking at Minneapolis over the river, it will be the prettiest thing you’ve ever seen.

5. Mall of America, Bloomington & Nicollet Mall, Minneapolis

It’s a more obvious choice, but I still think you should go to the Mall of America if you want to understand some serious Minnesota weirdness. Where else will you buy your souvenir loon call whistle? It’s also a really great place to take advantage of Minnesota’s no-clothing-tax policy (!!!).

The outdoor Nicollet Mall is where you shop and eat if you’re fancy. This is a lovely part of downtown Minneapolis, and one that makes me feel like I live in a bigger city than I really do. On Thursdays there is a great farmer’s market here, and when I worked downtown last summer I’d go over on my lunch break to just wander around and look at the beautiful food and flowers and people. Seriously, everyone walking around Nicollet Mall on weekdays is a hot young finance worker in a suit.

6. Bars & Eating: Northeast Minneapolis

Northeast Minneapolis is just cool. It’s too cool for me, actually. I’ve been there a handful of times and embarrassed myself in various ways every one of them. I see this as an aspirational part of the city: someday I’ll belong there. When you’re here, you should get dinner and drinks at one of these restaurants, like Brasa or The Bulldog, and then tell me about it so I can live vicariously through you.

7. The Guthrie

Real talk: I haven’t been here in an embarrassingly long time, not since before it was remade in bright blue. You should be better than me, and artier, and go there. The theater is highly regarded and strange-looking, which is a good combination. There’s a wonderful lookout of the city inside it, too.

8. Real Ghost Tours, Minneapolis

This is easily the best Groupon I’ve ever purchased. For $12 I got to spend two-and-a-half hours on a Friday night wandering around St. Anthony Main with an EMF detector around my neck. At first it wasn’t scary, and then, when we went into a pitch-black room where one of the guides said he could “see” a woman hanging from the rafters, it was terrifying. At the end of the tour one of the guides “read” me, predicting: “In your near future you’ll be in some sort of majestic castle, researching ghosts and demons and elementals. And you’re gonna see some freaky shit.” I married him right then and there.

9. Sex World, Minneapolis

What if my two favorite places were the Science Museum and Sex World?? Gloriously neon and located on the edge of downtown, Sex World has three floors (three floors) full of sex toys, porn, plastic stilettos, and penis straws. Something for everyone! Now, I don’t love Sex World, but it’s important that you go there, if you’re ever here. I’ve been there just twice: both times it was for a friend’s 18th birthday. It is an important and disgusting rite of passage. Both times, we went in just after midnight. Both times, we didn’t touch a single thing. We pretended like we weren’t scandalized, but how does one remain un-scandalized in the face (?) of a ten-foot gilded mechanical penis?

10. The Lookout, Minneapolis

In Ridgway Parkway Park, off the Industrial Blvd/St Anthony Blvd exit on 35W, there’s a little spot where you can look out over the valley and see the Minneapolis skyline, which is small but beautiful. It’s best to go there at night, because it’s equal parts spooky (there’s a cemetery nearby) and sparkly. Be warned that this place might be love cursed. The site’s only Yelp review notes that this is where the author and his now-ex first said they loved each other. It was there, too, that I received a shitty, crush-ending text message back from a boy I had made an ill-advised mixed CD for. It is probably best to go there as a happily single person, all on your own, having not done anything embarrassing too recently.

Abe Sauer’s Favorites

• “I love Minnehaha Falls Park and, when the weather’s nice, grabbing some food at Sea Salt and then hiking down the Falls Trail. The dual-pedal bikes would make a great second date … not that I know about that, having been married so long.”

• “El Nuevo Rodeo on Lake Street has great Mexican food. Good happy hour too.”

• “Riverview Theater in Longfellow shows movies that have been out for a month or so for $2 — can’t be beat. Riverview and the Mann Highland Theatre (in St. Paul) are both WONDERFUL old theaters with spring seats and grandeur.”

Everything Else Here…

… is also perfect. There are, however, a few things that I would skip, if I were coming here as a visitor. I wouldn’t go to the Walker Art Museum (oh God, I can feel the glares) because I went there when it opened and one time watching a silent video installation of people walking by in slow-motion is more than enough times for me. I wouldn’t go to the popular bar Uptown Tavern & Rooftop (formerly Drink), even though that’s where Kim Kardashian deigned to go when she was here, because Uptown bars are equivalent in their snooty terribleness. If I came here in the summer, I wouldn’t go to the Taste of Minnesota, which is gross and hot. I’m also told (by those Chicago converts) that our stoplight and one-way-street situation is out of control. But if you should end up getting pulled over for any reason, I can virtually guarantee that your police officer will be the nicest you’ve ever met. Unless you have Wisconsin plates.

Sponsored posts are purely editorial content that we are pleased to have presented by a participating sponsor, advertisers do not produce the content. This post is coming to you from HomeAway.com. Discover the world’s largest selection of vacation home rentals with HomeAway.com. Let’s stay together.

Katie Heaney adores the Twin Cities and would like it if you wouldn’t say “Minnesooooota” at her when she tells you that. Nobody says it like that. Photo credits: City photo by PIctureGuy, via Shutterstock; Minnesota State Fair by John Ore; Science Museum by July Flower, via Shutterstock; James J. Hill House by Chris Yunker, via Flickr; 35W bridge by fotokik_dot_com, via Shutterstock; Nicollet Mall MeetMinneapolis, via Flickr; Guthrie Theater by Chris Yunker, via Flickr; One Way by iofoto, via Shutterstock.

“Men rate women wearing red clothing as being more interested in sex, hinting that humans may be conditioned to associate the color with fertility.”

Have you had shad for dinner in the past week? If not, you should do so tonight or tomorrow night. It is one of the most delicious fish in the universe, and incredibly easy to cook, and due to the same mild winter than has local flowers and, apparently, Republican primary voters, so confused, the American shad spawning season, which usually heralds spring in March or April, has arrived early this year.

So go to a good fish store and buy some. (Fish Tales on Court Street in Brooklyn has deboned filets for $13.99 a pound — the deboning is helpful because, along with being so delicious, shad are extremely bony fish.) Then take it home, turn on your broiler, put the shad skin-side down on a tray, salt and pepper if you want, and put the tray on the top rack of your oven. Then cook it for six or seven minutes — until the top starts to brown and crisp up a little. Then take it out and put lemon and capers on it. (That what it says to do in Mark Bittman’s Fish book.) I suck at cooking, but even I have a hard time messing this up. And seriously, the taste is amazing. Like a more buttery, less oily bluefish or mackerel. And it doesn’t stink up your kitchen for four days.

If you’re feeling more ambitious, you can buy the sacks of shad roe, too. Many people consider them a delicacy. But they are disgusting looking (they look like a bright red human liver) and, though Bittman says that cooking them is even easier than cooking the fish itself (“There’s nothing easier than this,” he says), I have, in past efforts, found this not to be the case. You saute them in butter (for three or four minutes) until “lightly browned.” And if you cook them just right, they are indeed excellent, rich and creamy like foie gras. But if you undercook them, they’re slimy, and if you overcook them even just a bit, they go from light brown to dull gray very quickly, and the individual eggs harden and separate, and it’s like eating foie-gras flavored sand, which is far less pleasant. And it’s hard to cook them evenly, because of their corpuscular shape.

I like the fish itself better anyway. I’ve made it twice in the past week, and it came out great each time. Just with a salad on the side. And again, I suck at cooking, so imagine how well you could do!

Oh, and it’s a good time to go back and read John McPhee’s classic story of fishing for shad on the Delaware River that was in The New Yorker twelve years ago. (Subscription required, since it’s the stupid, excellent, worth-it New Yorker.) They are apparently very fun to catch with light tackle. The father and son in the video above sure seem to be having a good day. Though, as McPhee explained, it’s a mystery why anyone is able to catch them when they’re spawning.

Like salmon, shad return to their natal rivers and eat nothing on the spawning run. Like salmon swimming two thousand miles up the Yukon River, migrating shad exist on their own fat. So why do shad and salmon respond to lures? Up and down the river, almost everybody has an answer to that fundamental question, but no one — bartender or biologist — really knows. A plurality will tell you that the fish are expressing frustration. Flutter something colorful in their faces and shad will either ignore it completely or snap at it like pit bulls.

“King Shad,” McPhee calls them, and Ralph Steadman drew a fantastic illustration to go with the piece: a regal, crowned fish with and one long leg sticking out of its robe like Angelina Jolie at the Oscars Sunday night.

Considering that they live on a dank, vomit-encrusted island where one can barely take a step without needing to dodge the piles of discarded fast food and people stab each other in the head, Britons are surprisingly content.

Say hello to Pamir, branch-manipulator extraordinaire. Pamir lives in Russia, and is not to be confused with Claude, the Asian black bear from Hiroshima who shows similar stick-handling dexterity. In other bear news, here is a gallery of polar bear photos marking International Polar Bear Day, which was yesterday. Finally, here’s the classic (and scary, but it ends happily, so no worries) story of a bear who almost got electrocuted while searching for her cub. “I think people like animals a lot more than they like each other,” says one of the interviewees, and most days you can’t really blame them.

Would you like to listen to Break It Yourself, the forthcoming record from Andrew Bird? Of course you would. Good news: it’s streaming here.

In the new trailer for Peter Jackson’s The Hobbit, we watch Bard the Bowman, heir of Girion and last king of Old Dale, bring his trusted Black Arrow through the wood and row out into Long Lake Esgaroth is preparation for his fateful meeting with the dragon Smaug. Then something happens.

“The ‘upper class,’ as defined by the study, were more likely to break the law while driving, take candy from children, lie in negotiation, cheat to increase their odds of winning a prize and endorse unethical behavior at work, researchers reported today in the Proceedings of the National Academy of Sciences. Taken together, the experiments suggest at least some wealthier people ‘perceive greed as positive and beneficial,’ probably as a result of education, personal independence and the resources they have to deal with potentially negative consequences, the authors wrote.”