作者： mustard

By Carter Considine, 17, The Athenian School, Danville, Calif.

The national traveling exhibitions “Mary Cassatt at Work,” “Tamara de Lempicka,” and “Amy Sherald: American Sublime” converged across three San Francisco museums. This trifecta of pioneering women, often diminished or overlooked, refuses to be ignored.

“Too feminine.” “Frivolous.” “Bombastic.” Male critics have used these words to dismiss the works of Cassatt, Lempicka and Sherald. But such critiques reveal more about entrenched biases than the quality of the art. Now, on the 50th anniversary of Laura Mulvey coining the term “male gaze,” we are more ready than ever to celebrate its antithesis — the “female gaze.” These three artists embrace it wholeheartedly, offering us a way of looking that imbues female subjects with agency and allows them to exist as fully realized individuals.

1. “In the Loge” (1878) by Mary Cassatt

The painting depicts a woman at the theater, her gaze fixed on the stage through opera glasses. A man in a nearby box seat eyes her through his opera glasses, transfixed. It is striking how Cassatt renders this leering man with loose brushstrokes, de-emphasizing his agency. The image seems a perfect encapsulation of the female gaze — it is an independent woman, indifferent to the gaze of others, who Cassatt has chosen to bring into focus. She observes the performance with seriousness and curiosity in a laceless dress, culturally literate and engaged. As an outspoken suffragist, Cassatt makes a more overtly political statement with this painting than in her traditionally celebrated mother and child images.

2. “Jeune Fille en Vert” (1930-1931) by Tamara de Lempicka

Moving ahead two generations, Lempicka’s model, like Cassatt’s sitter, is a nameless high-society Parisian woman. She exudes Art Deco sophistication in a shiny dress and wide-brimmed hat. Her gaze is turned away from the viewer, dismissing our attention while fully in control of her ability to command desire. There is undeniable power in her presence — she is unapologetically herself and timelessly cool. If Cassatt’s subject is indifferent to onlookers, Lempicka’s doubles down defiantly on busting out of female norms. The asymmetry of the composition, its geometric facets and curvaceous subject, create a new swaggering 20th-century woman apart from her forebears. As a queer artist, Lempicka is expanding the boundaries of the female gaze to include a self-determined sultry power.

3. “A Midsummer Afternoon Dream” (2020) by Amy Sherald

Michelle Obama’s famous portraiture artist, Amy Sherald, once faced misguided criticism for rendering the first lady’s skin tone “too gray.” Witnessing the same en grisaille technique throughout her exhibit is transfixing, particularly in this work. The muted grayscale draws our eyes directly to the subject’s self-possessed demeanor. The near-life-sized subject leans against a pale yellow fixed-gear bicycle, living her best life in a playful, sun-drenched pastoral setting with sunflowers, a white picket fence, and comfy sneakers. Her “cool auntie” vibes — her ability to make even flower picking somehow glamorous — is a powerful pushback against chauvinism and racial stereotypes. This woman knows exactly how to make the most of leisure time. Having just bicycled in a long sundress, her handlebar basket laden with a small dog and wildflowers, she appears like a goddess from the perspective of any niece looking for permission to live by her own rules.

Trailblazers Cassatt, Lempicka and Sherald have redefined the female gaze in art. Their works challenge the dominant male perspective and offer a refreshing, essential alternative. In an era inundated with alpha male archetypes, each of these unapologetic visions reminds us of the richness of the female experience. Their daring artistry will next cast its gaze over Philadelphia (Cassatt), Houston (Lempicka) and New York City (Sherald).

By Sofia Hesling, 17, Mayfield Senior School, Pasadena, Calif.

Scarlett Johansson in “Lost in Translation.” Sofia Hesling, 17, calls the movie a “beautifully melancholic film that explores how isolating a foreign city can feel.”

Monachopsis. n.: The subtle but persistent sensation of being out of place, slightly uncomfortable in your own skin, feeling as though you watch life go by as an observer. Though the word itself sounds foreign, the concept perfectly encapsulates the emotion that all souls on this planet experience at some point in their life. In fact, this state is so common that it’s portrayed in many streams of media — paintings, film, music.

When your diagnosis is monachopsis, dive into these works to feel less alone.

“Kid A” — Radiohead (2000)

Radiohead’s Thom Yorke has definitely experienced the feeling of a world that’s slightly off, to an intense degree. Surreal and haunting, “Kid A” is saturated with cold alienation and detachment, and creates the feeling of walking alone through an empty city at night. Yorke’s distant, ghostlike vocals enhance the feeling. The ironically named first track, “Everything in Its Right Place,” opens with an eerie and off-putting synth line, followed by the repetitive chanting of the song’s title. It’s almost as if the narrator is trying to convince himself that he is not slowly losing his mind. The chaotic, empty tone of the album showcases a distorted reality where, if you’re experiencing monachopsis, you’ll feel all too at home.

“The Bell Jar” — Sylvia Plath (1963)

No stranger to the world of psychotic feelings and loneliness, Sylvia Plath’s writing perfectly encapsulates isolation. “The Bell Jar” follows the story of college student Esther Greenwood, a wannabe poet, driven slowly mad by her increasing sense of dissociation from her peers and the world at large, brought on by a struggle with her sense of self and duty. This stream of consciousness and dreamlike novel conveys the feeling of mental distance from the rest of the world. Plath’s genius creates an uncomfortable, painfully honest read and Esther Greenwood is the perfect companion to share your mal de vivre with.

“Lost in Translation” — Sofia Coppola (2003)

With muted tones and trance-like scenes, “Lost in Translation” is the story of two lonely souls adrift in Tokyo. This beautifully melancholic film that explores how isolating a foreign city can feel manages to perfectly replicate that inner sense of displacement. Bob and Charlotte — Bill Murray and Scarlett Johansson — connect over their search for purpose and meaning in life, soothing any worries in the viewer that monachopsis is a solitary condition.

“Melancholy” — Edvard Munch (circa 1891)

There’s a good chance this painting bears an uncanny resemblance to your own dejected mentality. A lonely soul in the painting’s foreground stares contemplatively into the distance, seemingly lost in thought while people interact in the background. This contrast highlights the increased despondency created when those around you are connected and happy. Knowing that even celebrated artists like Munch experienced monachopsis might render your discomfort more palatable.

Intelligent and esoteric, these “detached” artists were lauded for their ability to convey the “outsider” human experience through art. Through their work we share the distant and the lonely, and the ups and downs of the human experience. In sharing their haunted journey, and in our realization of its centrality to what it is to be human, we can agree with American essayist Henry David Thoreau, who advised that the best thing one can do is “to live deep and suck out all the marrow of life” and own the monachopsis in all of us.

So step through the looking glass and find a piece of yourself within one of these works.

By Maeve Costello, 16, Rocky River High School, Rocky River, Ohio

High school dances are the time for partying with friends, finally making eye contact with that crush from third period, and hearing bad, overplayed music. Compiled here are three song choices that don’t belong on the playlist for any high school dance.

“Hotel Room Service” by Pitbull opens with Mr. Worldwide inviting us to meet him at the hotel room where we can bring our girlfriends and forget about our boyfriends. Although it’s a catchy song that I can practically hear my classmates shrieking in my ear right now, it’s a bit of a strange choice for a school dance. As much as we’d all like to be going to some elaborate after-party clad in our Dillard’s junior wear, we all know that nobody’s going to the “hotel, motel, Holiday Inn.” We’re all going back to a friend’s house where someone’s Mrs. George-esque mother will greet us at the front door and ask for all the “hot gossip” before we descend to the basement and eat the snacks that have been prepared for us while watching throwback episodes of Barbie’s Life in the Dreamhouse, the closest to any ritzy establishment any of us will ever get. Catchy, sure. But relatable? For high school students? Far from it.

Next, Neil Diamond’s “Sweet Caroline” has its nostalgia factor, one of the main reasons it is sure to appear on the set list for any wedding, dance, or other event involving an amateur DJ. But why is it so popular, especially for the dance floor? This song is completely un-danceable. As soon as anyone hears the opening strains of this mellow soft-rock hit, the excited bouncing up and down is sure to cease as everyone softly smiles and pretends to be happy to hear America’s unofficial national anthem. Optimists will try to raise the energy by shredding their vocal cords braying the lyrics, but now it’s not a dance. This is a group of 16-year-olds acting like someone’s drunk aunt at a wedding, clumsily attempting to mimic the horns in the background by shrieking “BOM BOM BOM.” This is no longer a high school dance. Instead, the party has taken on more of a depressing karaoke feel, ruining the rush of youthfulness with which the night began.

Finally, we have “Cha Cha Slide,” a one-hit-wonder by DJ Casper. In this hit from 2000, the singer commands the audience to take part in basic movements — a sobriety test set to a funky beat, if you will. This dance may have been cool at one point, but it is long past its heyday. Nowadays, this song only evokes a confused reaction from a teenage crowd, most unsure if it’s time to get funky (funky funky funky) or if it’s time to go to the bathroom and take a mirror selfie with the gals. The once lively dance floor becomes a puzzled mob, trying to decide if it’s cool or dorkish to clap, clap, clap their hands. Looking around the room, Cathy from AP Honors Advanced Academic Class is getting down with her bad self, cha-cha-ing real smooth, but the rest of us don’t know if we are to join Cathy, or stand here or go home or what, and now the refreshments line is too long.

By Aaron Wang, 16, Regis High School, New York, N.Y.

Manet’s “The Café-Concert,” circa 1879. Aaron Wang, 16, writes that this painting “echoes a modern feeling: being physically close to someone but feeling disconnected in spirit.”

Have you ever felt alone in a crowd? Well, that sensation is nothing new! It was alive and well in Paris in the 19th century, a city on the cusp of modernization. The four artworks below were painted in the span of one decade and offer scintillating snapshots of how artists captured the paradoxical cocktail of excitement and alienation that Parisian citizens felt as they headed full force into modernization. By illustrating how modernization pushes people apart emotionally, these works resonate with anyone navigating today’s fast waves of technological modernization. Stepping back into 19th-century Paris, you’ll sense the pulse of a changing city and find echoes of our own landscape. I highly recommend you check them out, I have, and they’ve made a difference in how I gaze at art, modernity, and the human condition amid change.

First is Edouard Manet’s “The Café-Concert” capturing two figures seated side by side in a Parisian cafe. At first glance, they appear to be sharing a moment, but a closer look reveals their detached gazes: neither looks at the other, and both seem lost in private thoughts. In a city experiencing explosive growth and modernization, Manet highlights how people could sit elbow-to-elbow yet remain miles apart emotionally. The blurred background and loose brushwork intensify the sense that each figure is trapped in their own world. I find this painting striking as it echoes a modern feeling: being physically close to someone but feeling disconnected in spirit.

Edgar Degas’s “L’Absinthe” shares similar themes of isolation, but the mood is heavier. The subdued browns and grays set a somber tone as a man and woman sit together without actually connecting. Their vacant stares seem to push them into their own worlds. By capturing this tense quiet, Degas hints at the loneliness that can lurk beneath the surface in any large city. His muted palette echoes a heavier sense of direct melancholy, heightening the painting’s depiction of silent alienation. I find “L’Absinthe” a powerful reminder that crowds in a buzzing metropolis don’t necessarily cure loneliness.

Returning to Manet, we find another variety of detachment in “A Bar at the Folies-Bergère.” Here, a barmaid stares out at us with a distant, haunted expression. Behind her, a mirror reflects the vibrant nightlife and a male customer leaning toward her. The viewer is effectively placed in the man’s position, compelled to acknowledge our role in staring. This forced perspective challenges the viewer to consider how consumer culture can turn people into commodities and thus create alienation.

By contrast, Mary Cassatt’s “In the Loge” places the audience in the position of the subject of a male gaze, a different but equally isolating dynamic: both the female figure watching the opera and the viewer are scrutinized by a man in the background. Here, audiences become Manet’s barmaid. We experience alienation from the vantage point of being observed. In the process, Cassatt highlights how, even in the swirl of social events, the pervasive awareness of another’s gaze can intensify our own sense of isolation.

Each of these four paintings reveals a city alive with energy yet tinged with loneliness. Through subtle gestures and unwavering stares, the figures embody a universal human tension: navigating the chasm between public spaces and private feelings. They also stir insights into how modernization not only reshaped 19th-century Paris but continues to define our sense of belonging and isolation today. The next time you stroll through a crowded street or a cramped cafe, remember these images. They show that while modern life can bring us closer physically, it doesn’t always guarantee a true connection.

By Lela Harkrader, 16, Duke Ellington School of the Arts, Washington, D.C.

Want recommendations for four in-flight films that are likable, fast-paced, and have “nothing weird” in them that could upset your fellow passengers? Lela Harkrader, 16, has some ideas.Credit...AlxeyPnferov/iStock

As you settle into that too-small economy seat to watch your favorite movie, “X,” you see the 12-year-old to your left. Not wanting to make enemies on this flight, you scramble to download another, more appropriate movie in time for takeoff. Here’s what I look for in films for a flight:

1. Likable characters. After a long day of overpriced and under-filling snack packs, even the optimist can get annoyed. So why pick a movie that will grind your gears even further?

2. Fast paced. Flying through the sky at 550 miles per hour can be a bit distracting and rather loud. The movie you pick shouldn’t have moments that make you glance across the aisle at what your neighbor is watching and wonder if they made the better choice.

3. Nothing weird. Watch whatever you want in your own free time; in public, however, it’s probably a smart idea to keep your choices something that won’t get you talked about in a text chain. For everyone’s sake, steer clear of open-heart surgery videos when in the middle seat (yes, true story).

I came up with a pair of couponing criminals, a man in search of a photo, a chef holding onto his career, and a grandma proving her worth.

Four outstanding films to watch at 30,000 feet in the air:

“The Secret Life of Walter Mitty”

This movie may inspire you to change your trip itinerary, so keep your plans loose if “The Secret Life of Walter Mitty” is downloaded. A simple man with big daydreams pursues his foil, a photographer who lives an elusive life off the grid. The storytelling focuses on Walter’s imagination, pulling the audience deep into his mind. Walter dreams of being a superhero, street fighter, and someone who stands up for himself, and when his corporate job is threatened, he seizes the opportunity.

“Queenpins"

From the opening image of Kristen Bell in llama pajamas getting arrested in a SWAT raid, your attention will be LOCKED, even on a tray table. “Queenpins” follows Connie and Jojo as they fall deep into the criminal world of … coupon dealing? The hilarious duo of a failed MLM cosmetics sales rep and former Olympian need a win when they discover how to turn their coupon lifestyle into a moneymaking scheme. This movie has an R rating, but only for profanity, so turn the closed captions off and you’re fine.

“Chef”

On the flight to your next foodie tour, follow a once world-class chef struggling to maintain his passion and creative integrity in the profit-focused restaurant industry. An artist, Carl impulsively purchases a rundown food truck and takes it on a road trip with his sous chef and son. This movie explores good food, but more deeply, the relationship of Chef Carl and the son he struggles to connect with. With the characters thrown into close proximity throughout the film, it pulls off a novel story structure while maintaining an engaging narrative. A plot-driving Twitter beef now serves as nostalgia for a simpler era in social media.

“Thelma”

A grandmother gets scammed out of $10,000 and embarks on a low-speed scooter chase to get her money back. This film highlights the clash of senior stubbornness, young adult naivety, and overprotective adult children in tense family dynamics that many of us are all too familiar with. If you’re flying to a family reunion or missing your own brood’s quirks, this film confronts all perspectives of aging with comedy and class. From the scammers, to retirement home friends, to her family, Thelma has an impact on every life she touches (or breaks into).

By Rishi Janakiraman, 15, Stanford Online High School, Redwood City, Calif.

This book “doesn’t rewrite ‘Adventures of Huckleberry Finn’ so much as it jailbreaks it,” writes Rishi Janakiraman, 15, about Percival Everett’s “James.”

Literary afterlives are rarely this unruly. And in these three contemporary novels, we aren’t reading corrections of classic literature but daring reinventions — “James” reclaiming his own mind, “Julia” bending dystopia to her will, “Demon Copperhead” narrating his way out of ruin. Each one proves that great stories don’t stand still. They evolve, argue and, in the right hands, startle us awake.

“James”

Percival Everett’s highly-lauded “James” doesn’t rewrite “Adventures of Huckleberry Finn” so much as it jailbreaks it, torching the bars of Mark Twain’s canonized narrative and slipping through the cracks with a smirk. Here, Jim — no, James — isn’t Huck’s footnote or moral barometer but a man of staggering intellect, saddled with the terrible necessity of hiding it.

Everett, with his signature wit and scalpel-sharp insight, reconstructs the enslaved runaway not as a symbol but as a mind in motion: a reader of Locke and Rousseau, a strategist, a survivor who performs subservience with the precision of an actor whose life depends on it — because it does.

The brilliance of “James” lies in its refusal to be an easy correction of Twain. This is not a novel that scolds; it seduces. Everett writes with a blade concealed in silk, every sentence a duel between humor and horror, wit and wrath. The language glows, the sentences coil, and beneath them runs an undercurrent of quiet fury: a world in which survival is an argument, and James — unshackled, unfettered — wins it. If “Huckleberry Finn” gave us an unreliable narrator, “James” offers something more thrilling: an unreliable history, finally made whole.

“Julia”

We have always read “1984” through Winston’s weary eyes, his rebellion slow-cooked in paranoia, his doom written in invisible ink from the start. But in Sandra Newman’s “Julia,” the telescreen pivots, and suddenly, the grim machinery of Airstrip One is humming at a different frequency — faster, sharper, edged with lipstick and laughter in the dark.

Julia is no tragic dissident; she is a survivalist, a woman who understands that in Oceania, the only true crime is losing the game. Where Winston intellectualizes his subversion, Julia metabolizes it, bending totalitarianism to her will with an irreverence that is almost — dangerously — fun. Newman paints her heroine not in grayscale, but in bold, unsanctioned color: she flirts, she plots, she revels in the bodily act of resistance.

Dystopian fiction often asks who we become when power grinds us down. Newman poses a sharper question: Who thrives? “Julia” is not just a feminist retelling but a feat of narrative archaeology, uncovering what Orwell buried — the possibility that pleasure, too, can be an act of defiance.

“Demon Copperhead”

Barbara Kingsolver’s “Demon Copperhead” is a novel with red dirt under its nails. It is, ostensibly, a modern Appalachian “David Copperfield” — but let’s not insult Kingsolver with mere homage. This book doesn’t borrow; it repossesses, gutting Dickens’ Victorian moralism and nailing up something meaner, funnier and unmistakably American in its place.

Demon, born Damon Fields but branded by his flaming hair and unlucky bloodline, narrates his own undoing in a voice that crackles — equal parts wisecrack and wound. His childhood is a parade of foster homes, factory-town ruin, and an opioid epidemic that hangs over the novel like an unpaid bill. Kingsolver writes addiction not as a bad decision but as a gravitational force, pulling whole generations down into the holler.

But this is not a dirge. Kingsolver’s sentences swing like a hammer, bending despair into defiance. Demon is a survivor, not a saint, and his voice — funny, furious, stubborn as kudzu — never asks for pity. “Demon Copperhead” is not just a novel. It’s a scalpel, peeling back the American Dream to reveal the rot beneath, then daring us to call it anything but the truth.

By Emily Hsia, 15, Arnold O. Beckman High School, Irvine, Calif.

The cast of season one of the “Gossip Girl” television series in 2007. If you like shows about “rich people being messy,” says Emily Hsia, 15, you’ll like this one.Credit...Timothy White/The CW

The early 2000s: the era of flip phones, indie rock, and teen dramas ruling the airwaves. These weren’t just shows; they were cultural events. Viewers tuned in week after week to watch ridiculously attractive teenagers with suspiciously good vocabularies navigate love, betrayal and school dances way too extravagant for real high school. If your teenage years didn’t involve a brooding love interest or an over-the-top family scandal, did you even have a proper coming-of-age?

Here are four shows that made us wish our biggest problems were dates to prom and not, well, homework.

1. “Gossip Girl”: Rich People Being Messy

Before influencers, there was “Gossip Girl”: a show about New York’s elite teenagers who apparently never attended class but somehow got into the Ivy League. At the center of the chaos were Blair Waldorf and Serena van der Woodsen, BFFs who spent equal time hugging and getting revenge. Meanwhile, a mysterious online presence (the titular Gossip Girl) exposed everyone’s deepest secrets. If designer clothes, illogical plot twists, and characters making the worst possible decisions at any given time are your thing, then “Gossip Girl” is your series. Of course, who could forget: “You know you love me. XOXO, Gossip Girl.” Chills.

2. “Gilmore Girls”: Caffeine, Wit and the Fastest Dialogue Ever

If “Gossip Girl” was all about careless spending and breaking hearts, “Gilmore Girls” is its quirky cousin who can out-debate you while chugging a venti latte. Centered around the mother-daughter relationship of young mom Lorelai Gilmore and bookworm Rory, this show made us believe that consuming four cups of coffee before noon was a personality trait. The dialogue is razor-sharp, the small-town charm is unbeatable, and it offers some of the most intense debates in pop culture history: Who’s Rory’s best boyfriend? Is Jess the worst or the best? Why does Luke only own one flannel shirt? If you don’t feel like you’re meant to be in Stars Hollow after this, you’re lying.

3. “The O.C.”: California, Here We Come

“The O.C.”: the show that single-handedly made indie music cool. Centered around privileged Orange County kids and their beloved outsider, Ryan Atwood, this show has it all: love triangles, high-stakes family drama, and enough slow-motion scenes to make a Coldplay song sob. “The O.C.” nailed the concept of the teen soap opera: iconic couples (Seth and Summer), a devastating death here and there, and lots of unnecessary angst.

4. “One Tree Hill”: Basketball, Brotherly Fights and Tons of Drama

A seemingly straightforward pilot revolving around half brothers fighting their way onto the basketball team (and, of course, vying for the same girl) will soon become the most dramatic teen series. “One Tree Hill” gave us plot twists that, while making absolutely no sense, had us sobbing at 2 a.m. This show knew no limits of psycho stalkers, dramatic weddings, time jumps and an inexplicably evil Dan Scott, possibly one of the greatest TV villains of all time. And, of course, “One Tree Hill” taught us the most valuable lesson of all: No matter how much drama goes down, there’s always time for a heartfelt basketball metaphor.

These shows defined a generation of pop culture references, fashion choices and unrealistic expectations for high school. Whether you love these shows for their over-the-top drama, swoon-worthy romances or wild plot lines, one thing is certain: Teen TV in the 2000s is iconic. Break out your MP3 player, put on some Death Cab for Cutie, and dive into these early 2000s teen dramas, because real life is never this interesting.

Nisha Sriram, 16, CHIREC International School, Hyderabad, India

The singer and songwriter Adrianne Lenker sits in a Brooklyn diner in 2024. “Every pause and breath carries weight,” writes Nisha Sriram, 16, about Lenker’s sixth solo album.Credit...Erinn Springer for The New York Times

If you’re a classical music purist who refuses to listen to anything from this century — no judgment, I’ve been there too. Since then, though, I’ve broadened my horizons. In this list, I offer a handful of contemporary indie music recommendations that convinced me, and will hopefully convince you, that great music didn’t just die with Rachmaninoff.

1. Adrianne Lenker — “Real House”

Music is, as Claude Debussy put it, “the space between the notes,” and no one knows that better than Adrianne Lenker. The opening track of her 2024 album “Bright Future” is stripped down and deceptively simple: just her voice, the pressing of piano keys, and sparse violin. She recalls specific childhood moments she had — braiding willow branches, realizing death, putting down her pet — with painful precision. But when you close your eyes and listen, it is not her life you see; it is your own.

For classical listeners, “Real House" offers a familiar kind of intimacy. Lenker’s phrasing is as natural as spoken thought, and the song feels like a private moment: a woman hunched alone over her instrument, grieving the passage of time. Every pause and breath carries weight, and her acclaimed lyricism is a shining example of how the best compositions — classical or contemporary — can say the most by saying the least.

2. Radiohead — “Burn the Witch”

The opening track of “A Moon Shaped Pool, Burn the Witch” (2016) is one of the most striking songs in the catalog of alt-rock’s most influential band. Built around string arrangements dripping with anxiety, the track sets the tone for an album steeped in tension, loss and beauty. Radiohead first worked on the song 16 years before its release, only completing it when the band’s lead guitarist Jonny Greenwood had the confidence to “let the strings finish it.”

Greenwood is no stranger to classical music — he owns the contemporary classical record label Octatonic, and frequently cites classical composers like Krzysztof Penderecki as strong influencers on his work. This manifests in the track’s percussion, with classical techniques like col legno and pizzicato replacing Radiohead’s typical electronic features to create a jagged, urgent rhythm. This, combined with the track’s standout string arrangements and Thom Yorke’s characteristically despairing lyricism, results in a beautifully well-rounded track both unnerving and hypnotic.

3. The National — “Pink Rabbits”

The National has long mastered the art of slow-burning melancholy, and “Pink Rabbits” is one of their finest examples. A fan favorite from “Trouble Will Find Me” (2013), the song drifts through a haze of remembrance and nostalgia, its pensive chords and swaying rhythm evoking the sense of a quiet unraveling. Frontman Matt Berninger wields his voice as an instrument — manipulating cadence, rubato and timbre much like a violinist shaping a phrase. His delivery stretches and compresses lines as if the melody itself is stumbling, leaning into the track’s slightly disoriented feel.

While the band is firmly rooted as a quintessential Brooklyn indie “dad band,” The National does house some classical influence: Bryce Dessner, classically trained at Yale and a Grammy-winning classical composer, is the band’s guitarist and producer. His instincts are woven into the band’s DNA, shaping the track’s layered melody and dynamic shifts, making “Pink Rabbits” as beautifully technical as it is devastatingly intimate.

By Zayden Li, 16, Horace Mann School, Bronx, N.Y.

Ralph Fiennes as the notorious urban planner Robert Moses in David Hare’s play “Straight Line Crazy.” Zayden Li, 16, suggests you check out the trailer on YouTube to “catch glimpses of Fiennes digging into Moses’s sullied glory.”Credit...Sara Krulwich/The New York Times

We get it. You got caught up in the hysteria last year over The New York Historical’s 50th anniversary exhibit of Robert Caro’s epic “The Power Broker: Robert Moses and the Fall of New York.” Now you feel guilty for jumping the gun and buying the “I Finished The Power Broker” mug at the gift shop. Let’s face it. It’s a ridiculously long book, clocking in at over 1,300 pages. Sure, it’s a gripping, meticulously researched account of how one man, Robert Moses, ruthlessly yielded his power to transform New York City into the congestion choked metropolis it is today. But if you are a mere mortal and need some cheerleading to make it to the last page, here are three Power Broker-adjacent diversions that may shake things up and keep your reading fresh. (And if you want to enjoy a cup of coffee in, let’s say, your “I Finished The Power Broker” mug, go right ahead. We won’t judge.)

1. Escape into the fantasy realm. Does it feel like New York City traffic is the brainchild of an evil wizard? The dungeon and dragons series Dimension 20 on DropoutTV runs with that concept in “The Unsleeping City,” where the main villain is named Robert Moses, an undead magical mystic who is the architect of the Highway Hex. After your fantasy fix, you can hear creator Brennan Lee Mulligan discuss why he made the master builder into a master villain on 99% Invisible’s “The Power Broker: Episode 11.” The whole series is a perfect companion piece to the book as the host Roman Mars breaks down each chapter with fanboy insight. When you’re ready to head back to reality, check out the episode with the not undead former Secretary of Transportation Pete Buttigieg, too.

2. Dive into the negative space. Caro shortened his original, million-word manuscript by a third to make the book physically bindable. Sadly, the entire chapter devoted to the journalist Jane Jacobs was removed, but sometimes what’s left out speaks volumes. Anthony Flint takes a fascinating closer look at the activist who stared down Moses in “Wrestling With Moses: How Jane Jacobs Took on New York’s Master Builder and Transformed the American City.” Flint gives us plenty to chew on, even though it’s a snack of a book coming in at a mere 195 pages. Washington Square Park would have been plowed over by a ten lane super highway called the Lower Manhattan Expressway if it weren’t for Jacobs. If that was left out, then what in the world was kept in? Curiosity piqued!

3. Go for the drama. Caro knew that he needed legendary storytelling to keep people interested in public infrastructure and bureaucratic procedures. He never over dramatizes, but his work begs for dramatic re-enactment. Enter “Straight Line Crazy," which ran briefly in London and Off Broadway and starred Ralph Fiennes as Moses. Nowadays you can find the National Live Theatre trailer on YouTube to catch glimpses of Fiennes digging into Moses’s sullied glory. Or you can dip into the excellent book by David Hare and soak in reimagined scenes of Moses manipulating his way to dominion over New York City. Stage adaptations may not be your thing, in which case you can hurry back to the original text and take the high ground. But there’s something delightful in hearing an onstage Jane Jacobs say, as only a New Yorker would, “He’s straight line crazy!” And knowing Voldemort is playing Moses is purely priceless.

By Riya Srivastav, 16, Cerritos High School, Cerritos, Calif.

Ariana Grande’s music “isn’t just about love; it’s about the in-between,” writes the 16-year-old Riya Srivastav.Credit...Chris Pizzello/Invision, via Associated Press

Love in the modern age is confusing. We ghost, orbit, breadcrumb, and somehow still end up texting “you up?” at 2 a.m. In a world where commitment is optional, but jealousy is inevitable, situationships have become the ultimate emotional gray area — something more than a fling but not quite a relationship. And nobody captures this tension better than Ariana Grande.

Grande’s music isn’t just about love; it’s about the in-between — that intoxicating, frustrating space where mixed signals thrive, emotions run high, and no one wants to define anything. From steamy distractions to heartbreaking realizations, her songs soundtrack the situationship experience in a way that feels both cinematic and deeply personal.

So, should you check out these five Ariana Grande songs? If you’ve ever been trapped in a relationship that wasn’t really a relationship, the answer is yes — but be warned: it might hit a little too close to home.

1. “Boyfriend” (ft. Social House)

💔 “You ain’t my boyfriend, and I ain’t your girlfriend, but you don’t want me to see nobody else, and I don’t want you to see nobody.”
➡️ This is THE situationship anthem. The whole song is about wanting commitment but not being able to fully commit, all while feeling jealous when the other person moves on. It’s toxic, it’s relatable, it’s real.

2. “Bad Idea”

😈 “I got a bad idea … Forget about it, yeah, forget about him, yeah, forget about me.”
➡️ Situationships are often about distraction, and this song is exactly that. It’s about keeping someone around to escape your feelings, even if you know it’s probably not the best decision. That late-night “you up?” text energy.

3. “In My Head”

🌀 “Look at you, boy, I invented you … Your Gucci tennis shoes, running from your issues.”
➡️ This one HURTS because it’s about falling for someone’s potential, not who they actually are. You convince yourself they’re the one, but in reality, you’re stuck in a cycle of expectations vs. reality. Situationships THRIVE on this delusion.

4. “Just a Little Bit of Your Heart”

💔 “I know I’m not your only, but at least I’m one … I heard a little love is better than none.”
➡️ This is for when you know you’re getting crumbs but still hold on because you’d rather have some of them than nothing at all. The pain of knowing you’re not their priority but still hoping? Too real.

5. “Almost Is Never Enough”

🥀 “If I would have known that you wanted me, the way I wanted you …”
➡️ Situationships always have that “what if” energy — like, if things were just a little different, maybe it could’ve worked. But instead, it’s all mixed signals, bad timing and regret.