A member of the St. Louis Media Hall of Fame, Jeannette Cooperman was the staff writer at St. Louis Magazine for twelve years. Her work was cited as Notable in Best American Essays 2021 and Best American Essays 2023; she received the Writer of the Year award at the 2019 City & Regional Magazine Awards; and she was named to the 2017 FOLIO: 100 list of “the best and brightest” in the magazine industry nationwide. Cooperman spent a decade doing investigative reporting for Riverfront Times, where her work was recognized by the National Education Writers Association, the National Mental Health Association, the National Black Journalists Association, the National Gay and Lesbian Journalism Association, and the Society of Environmental Journalists. She holds degrees in philosophy and communication and a Ph.D. in American studies, and she has written eight books—seven nonfiction, biography or cultural history, and a murder mystery. She and her husband, a historian, live with Willie, a goofy but sweet standard poodle, in a century-old farmhouse in Waterloo, Illinois.
Every October, our neighborhood turns into the grounds of a nineteenth-century asylum, strange creatures waving or menacing, taped recordings with bloodcurdling screams (or maybe that was me). Screams register sudden terror—but are themselves unnerving. They should not be; they are our first sound. Our first bit of self-expression, our…
Do not be fooled by the gentleness of the landscapes in Women Impressionists and the Land, a revelatory new exhibit created by Saint Louis Art Museum curator Simon Kelly. The deer at the woods’ edge, the children in the gardens, the sisters in lacy dresses, the ponds rippling above…
Before, Anne Carson’s work was dismissed as bewildering; now, Carson said, “I can’t do anything wrong, but which really means people are offering equally blind judgments of the work…. I guess people are just afraid to think.” A Nobel will only exacerbate this.
He abhorred writerly tricks and happily-ever-after endings. And he was deeply realistic. He knew there was no way to bring opposing beliefs and values into harmony. Hold back the chaos, in other words, and allow as much human flourishing as possible.
Trauma culture might be the last prank of late-stage capitalism. We have branded our own pain.
The common denominator in all smug characters is that they are closed. Closed to new ideas, to a more flexible way of thinking, to vulnerability and humility, to wonder and curiosity. They live in their own tight world, safe from challenge, always correct.
“There’s something calming about crosswords,” Mac Motz says, and I know exactly what he means. You are focused on that grid, and everything else falls away.
A “coign” is a jutting-out corner or high point that gives you an excellent view of whatever you are trying to see. I was trying to see…what? A different world, graceful and mysterious, exquisitely colored and lit.
The virus has latched on to receptors on the cells lining my respiratory tract, and it clings there, reproducing rapidly. I know this because my throat feels scorched, and though I continue bravely on with my day, it is punctuated by violent sneezes that explode without warning.
“Yeah, no” is managing the social interaction, not just the literal meaning. If somebody offers advice and you respond with a flat “No,” that sounds a bit ungrateful, even surly.
At twelve, I read that in Purgatory, souls were purified with a cleansing fire, removing small sins, whisking away tiny bits of filth, mending any cracks. My father had to be made ready to enter the presence of God.
Self-talk, the practice is called, and after decades of research, shrinks now admit it can be quite healthy. We learn to speak, after all, by jabbering away in our crib, speaking to no one in particular, catching the rhythm and intonation before we have the vocabulary.