This week's top 5 long reads

This week's issue (500th issue!):

• Cartels are making millions of dollars from sand.
• How does change actually occur?
• A look at the history and hand-wringing of hooded sweatshirts.
• A woman spent more than a year alone in a cave with no light.
• Bringing back the fruit, both a summer staple and a symbol of hardship.

David A. Taylor | Scientific American | February 1, 2024 | 3,485 words

my favorite subplot barry• The romantic relationship between Chechen mafia no-ho Hank and Bolivian crime boss Cristobal. In season 4, he decides to import sand, ostensibly to distance himself from a life of crime. When I saw the episode where they make a plan, I thought it was an inspired comic. It wasn't until I read David A. Taylor's story that I realized that the Sand Mafia was very real. Sand is one of the main components of concrete, and given the decades-long construction boom around the world, we could run out of construction sand by 2050. In this article, Taylor writes about the devastating effects that sand mining and pillaging have on ecosystems. They are already fragile, and are happening in vulnerable communities such as Mozambique and Kenya (and how one woman in Kenya's Makueni County brought a regulated and sustainable approach to the fight against Nairobi's Sand Cartel too). Organized crime aside, it's the simple but eye-opening details that make up this film. For example, the fact that China used more cement in just his three years than the United States used in the war. whole 20th century. Or that half of Morocco's sand is mined illegally. Alternatively, sand from river and lake beds, rather than coastal areas, is best for building, and builders who skimp on better sand end up constructing buildings that are downright dangerous (as seen in Turkey and Syria due to the February 2023 earthquake). Look at the destruction, one expert tells Taylor). A fascinating story about a global issue that more people should tell. —CLR

Rebecca Solnit | Literary Hub | January 11, 2024 | 1,745 words

Whenever you plant a seed, you hope to see immediate results. Being notoriously impatient, I check to see if my plants have germinated just a few hours after planting. now? (No) What about now? (No.) What about now? In all things, we need proof that our actions will take root and bear fruit.Recent articles by Rebecca Solnit lit hub It gave me much-needed perspective on the slow pace of change, whether personal or political. Popular culture assumes that every major turning point comes after an impassioned speech or cute encounter, but in reality, real change is invisible and gradual, making it difficult to identify progress. is difficult. In this article, Solnit highlights years of advocacy work and a series of small steps that can lead to changes in government policy that benefit the environment. What I appreciated most about this piece was Solnit's gentle reminder that most of the time, change happens when you aren't looking. For me, not looking is both a solution and a problem to be solved. At best, not looking means holding on to the belief that action creates change. At worst, it means avoiding the personal reflection necessary to achieve the small, cumulative changes that lead to real progress. “Many of the changes are growths, transformations, or declines that are not dramatic. Rather, their timescales mean the drama may be imperceptible to impatient people,” she writes. . Solnit says that if you take things slowly, you'll gain perspective over time. It depends on how you look at it. —K.S.

nicholas russell | point | January 23, 2024 | 3,053 words

Nicholas Russell writes, “At first glance, the history of the hood as a symbol is inconsistent.” As we well know, that has changed in our lifetimes. First with the rise of hip-hop, then his irredeemable 2012 murder of Trayvon Martin. point, the hood's unique position as a cultural signifier exposes much more than this country's cancerous paranoia toward young black men.Even if this is not his work, he I wanted In writing, having cars swerve toward you twice while you were running in your hoodie was a way to change things up. Russell considers clothing from every conceivable angle. As a magical guarantor in the technological world of a young genius. The flashpoint of honor politics. A simple abbreviation for crime show producer. And of course, in its pointed variant, as a symbol of American hatred and bigotry. But none of that seems likely to reverse the current dire situation. Russell is outraged by this fact, but at the same time he is resigned to it. His legacy is divorced, operatic and ugly. ” —PR

DT Max | new yorker | January 21, 2024 | 7,430 words

Caving (that's a fun word, say it out loud) means exploring caving, but Beatrice Falmini has taken it to a whole new level. Realizing that, as DT Max writes, “I never had a bad time in a cave,” Falmini spent 500 days in a cave without seeing or talking to another human. I decided to stay inside. For those who have struggled during the COVID-19 lockdown, imagine spending nearly a year and a half alone. . . In the dark. Amid some intense press coverage, Max urged Flamini to dig deeper into her experience. Even the plot where she spends 500 days in a cave is more fascinating than most thrillers. Facts about food delivery and hygiene have never been so interesting. Turning to Flamini outside the cave, Max noticed that “she had talked so adamantly about her happiness underground so many times that she was a little incredulous.” . The more time he spends with her, the more reality he reveals. This experience has not been easy. The darkness took my life. The cave almost broke her. It's hard to understand her psychology in spending so much time underground, but Max manages to push past Falmini's bravado to do so. —C.W.

Jori Lewis | Trainyard / Fern | November 25, 2023 | 4,744 words

Watermelons are in the zeitgeist these days. The humble fruit is a key symbol of Palestinian resistance, meaning it has appeared everywhere from street protests to Paris Fashion Week over the past three months. However, in the context of U.S. cultural history, watermelon has other connotations, including racist connotations. Jori Lewis examines these crude and cruel associations in his essay. shunting yard, an exciting new magazine based at the University of Tulsa. She draws on her family's experiences to illustrate the complex relationship many black Americans have with watermelons, but her work goes far beyond the harm caused by stereotypes. Lewis is interested in reclaiming her meaning, but as is often the case, this requires looking deep into the past beyond the borders of the United States. This beautifully illustrated essay takes readers from the tomb of Tutankhamun in Egypt, to roadside fruit stands in Senegal, to the farmlands of China in search of watermelon as both sustenance and symbol. “Watermelon is a rich fruit. One pulp can feed more than a dozen people, and its seeds can grow hundreds of melons,” Lewis wrote. Cultures have associated it with fertility, solidarity, and good fortune. Watermelon not only quenches hunger but also quenches thirst, and Lewis ends her essay with a scene in which a juicy slice serves the latter role. By the time she reaches her second trial, Watermelon feels like a transformed object to the reader. “I felt myself tingling like never before for this black body standing in a white man’s field and all that it had ever meant to me. But I was hot and I was thirsty. ” Lewis wrote. “I ate it with my fingers.” —SD

audience award

Which editors chose this week's reader favorites?