October 27, 2026

Joy, by Maira Kalman

It’s a perfect morning to be celebrating the release of Maira Kalman’s new book, Joy. A book whose first lines are, “Joy? Do you think I am an idiot? Don’t I know that you know that suffering and sorrow envelop our planet and our little lives/ That perils lurk and shadow our every move. That injustice destroys the soul.” AND YET.

JOY. In spite of. “What solace might you find if you turned your gaze to a thing of beauty?” Picnics in dappled light, a Sunday afternoon in Paris. A stately sofa on the sidewalk, women who don’t give a fig, so many things to be curious about. Books and libraries, without which “wouldn’t we wander around with no idea of what is going on.”

“And didn’t the night fall/ ever so quietly. / And didn’t everyone wake/ the next day in the morning light/ and get out of bed/ And aren’t we all/ supremely courageous/ for doing just that every day.”