Essays I've Read That I Love

Mindy Kaling writes occasionally on a blog, the name of which I like: "Things I've Bought That I Love." Her prose is sharp and therefore worth reading even if I couldn't give two shits about the topic-of-the-post, as is often the case. But, again, I like the title, and will borrow its skeletal syntax to describe this post: "Essays I've Read That I Love."

Book reviews require significant thought and skill, so I write them only when they are assigned or paid for. (My last, I wrote on Blink, almost a year ago. Damn good, too.)

But article reviews are much easier, perhaps because they aren't really reviews. More like abstracts, but with a bit of force that says to the reader, "Turn off the fucking TV and read a bit; you'll be surprised and happy with my suggestions, I promise."

That being so, what follows: essays I've read (or am reading) that I love.

1. "Dangerous Minds: Criminal Profiling Made Easy," by Malcolm Gladwell. The New Yorker, 12 November 2007. - A wonderfully Gladwellian (of course) investigation of the FBI's seemingly crackerjack Behavioral Science Unit, which thanks to Hollywood and copious true-crime hardbacks has developed a reputation for producing near-hit criminal profiles almost every time. The key word here is "seemingly."

2. "Mad About the Boys," by Bryan Burrough. Vanity Fair, November 2007. - Fraud, obesity, boy bands, probable pedophilia, willingly unsuspecting investors, and blimps - this story has it all. Chronicling the rise and fall of Florida entrepreneur Lou Pearlman (the impresario behind the Backstreet Boys and 'NSync), Burrough discovers just how many willingly buy into the American Scheme while chasing their American Dream.

3. "Tonight on Dateline This Man Will Die," by Luke Dittrich. Esquire, September 2007. - Admit it: you love (or at least can't turn away from) Dateline's "To Catch a Predator." It's justice-filled schadenfreude, plus public-humiliation. That's a two-for-one, and it isn't even Tuesday. But take away the justice and replace it with an unnecessary and preventable suicide, and you're left with an uneasy guilt, reprimanding yourself for once again buying into the too-good-to-be-true network sales pitch. It is never as simple as forty-four minutes makes it seem, is it?

4. "A Death in the Family," by Christopher Hitchens. Vanity Fair, November 2007. - For my money, the best essay of 2007. I cannot begin to do it justice here, in this restricting space, save to say this: it won't give you answers, so don't search for them as you read. Just expect tears. Read it. Please.