City Desk: The Big Leagues

YOUNG people read. You bet. I was just in a store that markets cheap crap from Asia-peasant blouses, edgy T-shirts, and sandals, walls and walls and walls of them-and in a corner by the door is a counter of books, impulse buys for the retiring shopper. What are the titles? One is called Pokey Penis-a Music Minus One pop-up book, made of cardboard pages with a circular hole in the center of each. When you poke through, you complete some picture of hot dogs, statuary, whatever. Fun at parties! Lots of books on living green. I knew this battle was lost when Kate O’Beirne told me that all her kids learned at Catholic school was recycling. As there are new sins, so there are new devotions. A book on how to argue with conservatives and win. It’s easy, especially if you never meet any. A book on social acquirements for young ladies. The paragraph on artists whose names you should know-with admirable frankness, it says nothing about knowing their art—includes Damien Hirst. Give him credit, his stuffed shark swam all the way to the Metropolitan Museum. Philippe de Montebello, no less, called it “iconic.” Shouldn’t he have sent it across the park to the Museum of Natural History? The oldest artist on the list was Andy Warhol. Marilyn silk screens are classical civilization. Abook on church signage across America-FREE TICKETS TO HEAVEN, that kind of thing: anthropological, but enthusiastic-no use of the verb cling. And, speaking of, a little stack of The Audacity of Hope.

So young people read. But more often than that, they watch TV, and their favorite show just now is The Show.

About the Author

Richard Brookhiser

Historian Richard Brookhiser is a senior editor of National Review and a senior fellow at the National Review Institute.

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YOUNG people read. You bet. I was just in a store that markets cheap crap from Asia-peasant blouses, edgy T-shirts, and sandals, walls and walls and walls of them-and in a corner by the door is a counter of books, impulse buys for the retiring shopper. What are the titles? One is called Pokey Penis-a Music Minus One pop-up book, made of cardboard pages with a circular hole in the center of each. When you poke through, you complete some picture of hot dogs, statuary, whatever. Fun at parties! Lots of books on living green. I knew this battle was lost when Kate O’Beirne told me that all her kids learned at Catholic school was recycling. As there are new sins, so there are new devotions. A book on how to argue with conservatives and win. It’s easy, especially if you never meet any. A book on social acquirements for young ladies. The paragraph on artists whose names you should know-with admirable frankness, it says nothing about knowing their art—includes Damien Hirst. Give him credit, his stuffed shark swam all the way to the Metropolitan Museum. Philippe de Montebello, no less, called it “iconic.” Shouldn’t he have sent it across the park to the Museum of Natural History? The oldest artist on the list was Andy Warhol. Marilyn silk screens are classical civilization. Abook on church signage across America-FREE TICKETS TO HEAVEN, that kind of thing: anthropological, but enthusiastic-no use of the verb cling. And, speaking of, a little stack of The Audacity of Hope.

So young people read. But more often than that, they watch TV, and their favorite show just now is The Show.