Edith Wharton and city zoning; Maurice Williams and piano palpitations; Aryna Sabalenka and the Cincinnati Open
I’m All Lost in…
the 3 things I’m obsessing about THIS week
#45
1) I was all set to welcome Elizabeth Gaskell back to my weekly catalog of obsessions; I devoured her first novel, 1848’s Mary Barton, back in January (and even ended up writing a full-fledged review of the book for the oddball arts website Oblivioni).
This past week, I’ve been reading and enjoying Gaskell’s 1855 novel (and her most famous one), North and South, which, like Mary Barton, is committed to exposing the dire situation of England’s then-emergent laboring class.
But I’ve put Gaskell on pause to read The New York Stories of Edith Wharton, a collection of short stories by Pulitzer prize-winning (The Age of Innocence, 1920) American novelist, Edith Warton
Set in a turn-of-the-(20th)-century Manhattan of rarefied drawing rooms, horse-drawn hansoms, snowy 5th Ave., and witty cocktail banter, these stories, with Wharton’s insider info and topical currency, actually remind me more of Joyce’s Dubliners and his fast-paced urban verisimilitude than of Jane Austen’s subtle cotillion dramas. Also like Joyce’s (angst-ridden) Dubliners, Wharton’s stories turn on slightly cryptic climaxes that drift into unresolved personal crises.
The story that has captivated me most so far, though, Mrs. Manstey’s View (1891), is extra clear. Set in a cramped landscape of factory smoke and spires, this Wharton dispatch from the city canon is all about land use zoning.
It’s the first short story Wharton ever published . And yes, while the writing in this boarding house tale crackles with evocative Dubliners-level local color—”the yards beyond…were in a state of chronic untidiness and fluttering, on certain days of the week, with miscellaneous garments and frayed table-cloths”—it is a straight-forward, rather than obtuse story: A lonely, elderly woman, Mrs. Manstey, who lives in a sad flat “in a street where the ash-barrels lingered late on the sidewalk,” cherishes the slovenly, yet holy, view out her third floor window:
Some of the yards were, indeed, but stony wastes, with grass in the cracks of the pavement and no shade in spring save that afforded by the intermittent leafage of the clotheslines. These yards Mrs. Manstey disapproved of, but the others, the green ones, she loved. She had grown used to their disorder; the broken barrels, the empty bottles and paths unswept no longer annoyed her; hers was the happy faculty of dwelling on the pleasanter side of the prospect before her… the breath of a neglected syringa, which persisted in growing in spite of the countless obstacles opposed to its welfare.
However, Mrs. Manstey’s sacred views will soon be blocked: As she learns from her landlord Mrs. Sampson, the building next door has secured a zoning variance and is set to expand. Events proceed along standard, heroic anti-development lines, and Wharton gives us a NIMBY martyr—literally, as Mrs. Mantsey’s rebellion culminates in her death. Needless to say, I don’t sympathize with the dramatic politics of this tale which, following a popular arc in literature: celebrates reactionary utopianism.
But, politics aside, I’m certainly a glutton for any literary exercise that uses city development to explore the human condition.
2) Early rock and roller Maurice Williams, a precocious and eccentric teen prodigy from South Carolina, who, as a driven 18-year-old, fast talked his way into the Nashville music scene, died this week at 86.
Williams’ No. 1 Billboard hit “Stay” (1960) gets a little too much attention in his NYT obituary (probably because Jackson Browne, who syncs with the NYT’s white Baby Boomer demographic, had an ironic late 1970s hit with it). Without much fanfare, the obit also notes Williams’ other hit, “Little Darlin’” (1957), one of my favorite rock & roll era tunes.
I learned to play “Little Darlin’” on piano back in 2022, and upon seeing Williams’ obituary this week, I remembered careening though the song’s looping 1/6/2/5 left-hand chord progression and recklessly slurring the simple right-hand melodies as my keyboard bounced on its stand. *This chord progression slightly alters the famous (and more innocent) “Heart and Soul” "‘50s progression” by changing the major 4 to a minor 2, yet leaves the dominant-to-tonic resolution intact maintaining the tune’s satisfying turnaround.
This superior, earlier Williams’ jam—a loopy mix of free-form doo-wop, up-tempo calypso, and helter-skelter rock & roll—barely made the pop charts, but it did hit #11 on the R&B charts that year and, as the premiere record from Maurice’s group the Gladiolas (later renamed the Zodiacs), it made a bold and durable statement about his outsized and lulu creativity.
Prompted by Williams’ death, I re-learned the song this week, rollicking through it with my headphones on. What’s odd about “Little Darlin’” is how the traditionally calming four-chord loop is accompanied by a herky-jerky melody prompting palpitations rather than swoons.
P.s. You’re probably more familiar with the cover version of “Little Darlin’” by a white doo-wop group from Canada called the Diamonds; their, admittedly more fully-realized (though less nutty) version, which came out a month later, hit No. 3 on the Billboard charts, selling millions. Williams wasn’t too miffed about this though. Showing off more evidence of his headstrong self-awareness, he had obtained all the rights to the song and made serious money off the Diamonds’ hit.
The downside, perhaps, is that Williams, upon becoming a successful professional songwriter at the age of 17, turned down a scholarship to study classical music at Allen University in South Carolina. We can only wonder at the eccentric innovations he might have instigated as a classical composer.
3) After starting the 2024 season with a bang by A) winning her second career grand slam title at February’s Australian Open (she beat World No. 7 Qinwen Zheng in the final and avenged her 2023 U.S. Open finals loss along the way by beating then-World No. 3 Coco Gauff in the semifinal), and by B) reaching both the Spanish and Italian Open finals in April and May respectively, where she—no shame—lost both matches to peerless World No. 1 Iga Swiatek (including a 3-set epic in Madrid), my favorite WTA player, World No. 2, Aryna Sabalenka, started to slip earlier this summer.
She got a stomach flu and crashed in Paris at Roland Garros in June, losing in the quarterfinal to 17-year-old whiz Mira Andreeva (No. 21). The loss bumped Sabalenka from No. 2 to No. 3, as Gauff overtook her in the rankings race.
Next, also in June, Sabalenka bowed out of the Berlin Ladies Open, retiring with a sore shoulder in her quarterfinal match against No. 24 Anna Kalinskaya. Sabalenka’s shoulder didn’t heal in time for Wimbledon in July, and so, she had to withdraw from the premier grand slam tournament. She also bailed on the Summer Olympics in Paris.
However, Sabalenka has built up some new momentum with a late- summer comeback. She made the semifinals at the Mubadala Citi DC Open in August, and she reached the quarterfinals in this year’s Canadian Open, also in August.
Then, this week: Sabalenak stormed through the Cincinnati Open, beating No. 1 Swiatek in two sets in the semifinal, and then winning the final in two sets against No. 6 Jessica Pegula.
Sabalenka, who looked happy and chill the whole tournament, sporting a goofball smile rather than her usual storm cloud frown, didn’t lose a single set in Cincinnati, capturing her fifth career WTA 1000 title while simultaneously regaining her World No. 2 spot; her main rival Gauff slipped behind her to No. 3.
It’s perfect timing for Daffy Sabby (that’s what I call her to honor her often befuddled off-court demeanor), because next up it’s the U.S. Open in New York City, the year’s final grand slam tournament. Here’s hoping Daffy Sabby’s confident on-court demeanor propels her—like one of her vicious forehand winners—deep into this year’s U.S. Open bracket.
Speaking of which, ahem:
