The Monday Media Diet with Darrell Hartman

On Fresh Hell, the Sisters Brothers, and PictureThis

Darrell Hartman (DH) is a writer and author based in New York. Pleased to have him with us this week.

Photo credit: Peter Crosby

Tell us about yourself.

I’m a writer and author based in New York City. I recently published my first book, Battle of Ink & Ice: A Sensational Story of News Barons, North Pole Explorers, and the Making of Modern Media, a history set in the late 19th and early 20th centuries. I’ve spent the past twenty years as a freelance magazine writer, mainly covering lifestyle, history, and culture.

I’m currently working on a couple of other book projects, including a business book about corporate intelligence. And I’ve belatedly put together the “concepts of a plan” for my Substack.

Describe your media diet.

Heavy on legacy media. I subscribe to the New York Times and the Wall Street Journal and usually check both every morning. I regularly work out of a shared space in Manhattan that also carries print editions of the FT, the NY Post, and the NY Daily News, so I look at those papers as well. I enjoy the fuller picture that I get from reading a mix of titles, and focusing more on print media–ideally just once or twice a day, as opposed to constant checking–has been a boon for my sanity. During the first Trump administration I spent way too much time on Twitter and CNN.com. I removed news notifications from my phone seven or eight years ago.

I get a daily newsletter (one each) from Bloomberg and Axios. I also subscribe to The Atlantic, The New Yorker, and Air Mail, and spend a combined 5 or 6 hours a month on these. My Substack diet these days is basically limited to Tina Brown’s Fresh Hell and The Contender, by my friend David Coggins, who writes reflectively about the finer things in life. And then for niche mags I like Esses (for motor sport) and Wm Brown (men’s fashion and lifestyle) and The Drake (fly fishing). I’m a big tennis fan, but the co-founder feud that has led to Racquet now competing with The Second Serve has made things a bit confusing for me.

What’s the last great book you read?

The Sisters Brothers, by Patrick DeWitt. A self-aware Western with an ornate prose style and a great sense of humor. It’s like a 21st-century True Grit, which is one of my favorite novels of all time.

What are you reading now?

Harlot’s Ghost, by Norman Mailer. A fictionalized narrative of the Cold War CIA, with international intrigue unfurling around a blue-blooded love triangle. Reading it feels like being let in on a state secret. And the atmospherics are exquisite.

What’s your reading strategy when you pick up a print copy of your favorite publication?

I don’t read any publication all the way through anymore. Take The New Yorker, for example: the day it comes to the house, I scan the TOC. Then when I’ve got more time, I go to the thing I most want to read and jump right in, regardless of length. I used to read most of The New Yorker; now I just read one or two of the long features and a couple of the shorter pieces. I’m less interested than I used to be in the latest movies, music, theater, etc.

On days when I’ve got access to the print newspapers I mentioned earlier, I’ll sit in an armchair and spend 15-20 minutes with a paper or two, going from front to back, and spending a little more time on commentary than on straight news stories. If I’m eating lunch alone, I’ll read another 20 minutes of print. I try to read as little as possible on my phone. It’s funny they’re called smartphones, because I always feel like they’re making me stupider.

Who should everyone be reading that they’re not?

A lot of my favorite novelists peaked a generation or two earlier. The two that I recommend most often are Penelope Fitzgerald and Patrick O’Brian. Both have an incredible ear for language and are so good at transporting you into a different time and place.

O’Brian’s Aubrey-Maturin books have this remarkable bonhomie; they’re about male friendship. Today’s fiction writers appear to have abandoned this subject, which is why I think (hope) O’Brian’s books have started to find a new cult following. And then Fitzgerald has this elliptical way of writing that I find totally beguiling. Another thing I love about both these writers is their restraint. They are allergic to sappiness.

What is the best non-famous app you love on your phone?

PictureThis, for instant identification of plants and trees. Very helpful for life and writing.

Plane or train?

Train! I’m on one right now, coming back to NYC from the Catskills.

What is one place everyone should visit?

My native state of Maine. Obviously the natural beauty of the coast is no secret—but once you’ve done that I suggest heading into the woods, to somewhere like Baxter State Park or Rangeley. Hiking, fishing, lake life…and the history of these places is very much alive as well, in the canoes and cabins and preservation of certain things as they used to be.

Tell us the story of a rabbit hole you fell deep into.

I tumbled headlong into the world of turn-of-the-century journalists while researching Battle of Ink & Ice. I read 12-15 memoirs by people who worked in the trade around this time, in addition to all the books and articles about them. And then the newspaper archives, too—whether digitized or on microfilm.

I wanted to know the details of how the trade worked for the book: the buzz of the editorial offices, the heavy machinery of the press room, etc. I also wanted to capture some of the energy of the profession. It was the early days of international journalism, when communications technology had sped everything up. You had cable dispatches pinging around the world, and reporters dashing out of the newsroom to catch a train to some breaking story many miles away. I loved the spirit of risk and adventure in it—and the intense inter-newspaper competition made for some great rivalries.

I’ve done a lot of travel writing and I’ve also been a beat reporter of sorts, even if I’ve always been freelance, and my main “beat” was fashion parties and art openings and other celebrity-type stuff in NYC. So I recognized some aspects of this old newspaper world. But it was different enough—way wilder, way tougher, way boozier—that I kept wanting to learn more and more. It also felt like a world not too many contemporary authors have explored, so I was motivated by this idea that I was contributing something new and surprising by bringing it to life. For me, the best rabbit hole to fall into is one that leads to creative output once you’re done mucking around in it. If I hadn’t had a deadline to meet, I probably would have stayed in there longer.