Molly Odintz recently discovered a handy-dandy resource where a reader can track translations by author. The elegantly structured, absolutely “great” Digital Library of Korean Literature can help you find the international footprints of faves like Han Kang. For avid readers and literary scholars alike, keeping track of how translated works travel across global borders can often be a frustratingly fragmented task, scattered across various publishing databases and international library catalogues. However, this specialized online repository offers a streamlined, user-friendly interface that transforms a complex research chore into a pleasant exploration. By allowing users to follow the global trajectory of their favorite Korean authors with remarkable ease, the database underscores the growing international appetite for translated fiction and the vital work being done by translators and cultural institutions to bridge linguistic divides.
James Folta is getting joy from a “very dumb” (complimentary) project: Ted Travelstead’s Vlog. “The less I say about this series before you watch it the better,” says our staffer. “[B]ut writer and actor Ted Travelstead made something that is so perfectly silly and simple.” Please take 15 seconds out of your day to judge for yourself. In a media landscape frequently dominated by over-produced content, algorithmic optimization, and endless scrolling, discovering a piece of video art that relies entirely on a deadpan, unpretentious aesthetic can feel like a breath of fresh air. The brief vlog series captures a specific brand of deadpan humor that resists easy categorization, offering viewers a quick, self-contained comedic moment that asks for very little time while delivering an outsized dose of amusement.
Both Drew Broussard and Jonny Diamond have apples on the brain and in the basket. This week our podcasts editor discovered two big old apple trees on his property. Which majesties have decided to fruit this year “after at least five years of NOT fruiting.” Autumn sweaters, assemble. There is perhaps nothing quite as symbolic of the changing season as the sudden, heavy appearance of orchard fruit where none was expected. After years of dormancy, the unexpected arboreal bounty has transformed a routine property observation into a seasonal celebration, complete with the requisite wardrobe adjustments and the anticipation of crisp autumn days spent outdoors.
And our editor is living in a cider house—and it does, in fact, rule. “A friend of mine gave me a small cider press and then all of a sudden our apple tree exploded in big red apples,” says Jonny. “I guess we’re making cider in October.” Turning an accidental agricultural surplus into a hands-on homesteading project is a quintessential fall tradition, and the sudden influx of backyard fruit has naturally prompted a foray into traditional cider-making. Armed with a newly acquired press and an overabundant harvest of large red apples, the household is officially geared up for a messy, fragrant, and deeply satisfying weekend of pressing juice.
I, Brittany Allen, have been bracing for a stacked fall concert season. This weekend, I kicked off a full dance card in Jersey City, where I got to see some of Hudson County’s finest musicians recreate The Last Waltz at the extremely lovely (if scarily named) White Eagle Hall. Live music has always served as a crucial anchor for seasonal transitions, and stepping into a historic venue for an ambitious tribute performance set the tone for what promises to be a busy and musically rich autumn calendar.
For twelve years, it seems a small army of gifted fans have been coming together to play The Band’s 1976 farewell concert in its entirety, and almost to a set list tee. Most homages—including appearances from “Bob Dylan,” “Van the Man,” and “Joni Mitchell”—were delightfully faithful. But the dissonant bits were fascinating, too. This Muddy was much paler, for one thing. And Jersey City’s spin on Robbie Robertson would also have been at home in a Van Halen tribute act. The annual tradition of recreating Martin Scorsese’s legendary concert documentary live on stage requires a delicate balance of reverence and theatricality, allowing local musicians to step into the oversized shoes of rock royalty. While the musical precision was largely spot-on, the slight eccentricities and stylistic divergences brought by the local performers added a layer of charming unpredictability that elevated the evening beyond a standard cover band performance.
Anyway—time is a flat circle, and nostalgia is a helluva drug. And what surreal fun to trance back into an experience I missed the first time, because I was not yet born! Engaging with cultural touchstones from decades past always carries a strange, time-bending quality, especially when experienced live in a room full of people sharing the exact same frequency of collective memory.
Wishing you a weekend of autumn pleasures, eased weights, and apples. So many apples.
