The Profiles, Songs, and Pitch-Perfect Celebrity Memoirs That Got Us Through the Week

It’s Halloweekend which means it’s almost November which means it’s basically Christmas which means it’s already 2024. Time flies when you’re in a perpetual doom scroll, or whatever the saying is. If you have spooky, spooky plans this weekend, that’s great! (We have some last-minute costume ideas if you need them). And if you don’t because you’re too tired and the world right now is scary enough, then here are the books, songs, and articles that we’ve been enjoying to shut down our brains.

A friend recently put me on to this London-bred indie rock band consisting of five women in their early 20s (Abigail Morris, Lizzie Mayland, Emily Roberts, Georgia Davies, and Aurora Nishevc). “Nothing Matters” is their debut single, and it’s a hell of a song, thanks to the juxtaposition of truly angelic vocals and groovy guitar riffs. Though it was released in April, I’ve got it on replay these days as if it’s brand new. —Audra Heinrichs

Margalit Fox wrote over 1,400 obits in her 24-year tenure on the New York Times’s obituary desk. In the interview, she jokes that while obits are often referred to as “the last word,” they really ought to be “the first,” as they’re the first record of a life lived. The conversation covers how to truthfully write about public lives, particularly ones lived by unsavory people, and how to broach the subject of mortality with folks who are very much still living.

In the current moment, marked by so much suffering and death, I was almost hesitant to listen to this episode. But I appreciated this insight into an often-overlooked newspaper section, and the care Fox articulates about the importance of documenting lives’ lived. —Kady Ruth Ashcraft

1989 (Taylor’s Version) is Taylor Swift’s fourth re-recording (she has two more to go) and the vault tracks from her last three releases have had immediate standouts (Fearless: “Mr. Perfectly Fine”; Red: “I Bet You Think About Me”; Speak Now: “Electric Touch”). But I’m thrilled to say that (in my opinion!) the 1989's from the vault tracks have zero skips. “Slut!” is a delightful surprise; “Now That We Don’t Talk” is the most Bleachers-y Jack Anontoff-produced-song we’ve ever heard; “Suburban Legends” should have replaced “I Know Places”; “Is It Over Now?” feels like a dizzy alternate ending to “Out of the Woods.”

But “Say Don’t Go” is my favorite. It has a very similar beat to “Clean” but is bass-ier, and more dark and desperate than reflective. It starts as a slow burn and builds into something both energetic and sad that feels as euphoric as Robyn’s “Dancing On My Own.” And just like Robyn’s anthem, “Say Don’t Go” makes me want to spin around a dark dance floor underneath a disco ball all by myself. —Lauren Tousignant

This could have been 25% as good as it actually is and still satisfied readers. Instead, as I wrote in my review of this new benchmark in celebrity memoirs, the prose is tight, the metaphors are lean, the dish is voluminous, and Spears’ humanity is clearer than ever. Among the many things it is, The Woman in Me is an argument for Spears’ commitment to her art and craft (and, when she has seemed less than committed, she suggests, it’s been a willful way of lashing out and tapping into the only power that she had at the time). But for someone as famous as Spears is, it’s really the humility she displays that makes her seem the most superhuman—more than her talent, charisma, or beauty. —Rich Juzwiack

The fact that it’s nearly November but Bachelor in Paradise is unfolding—and, in fact, in its early stages—really messes with my brain, but in a fun way!! It’s such an odd thing to be shopping for puffer jackets in real life while watching swimsuit-clad Bachelor nation contestants get drunk off on a Mexican beach as they duke it out for love and Instagram sponsorships. That being said, if you are looking for a taste of paradise through these increasingly cloudy, glum days and earlier and earlier sunsets, I recommend this appropriately named reality TV spin-off. I’ve tuned into this show out for its last several seasons, but this one has thus far delivered. It’s got an intricate and theatrical poop subplot; love triangles and humiliations; high school levels of cattiness and feuding; and, in this gal’s humble opinion, hotter men than I’ve seen on previous seasons. Please join me in indulging in the reality dating show that’s been charmingly labeled as a “nonsurgical lobotomy.” —Kylie Cheung

Melissa DeRosa, a former top aide to disgraced former New York Gov. Andrew Cuomo, was very scared of what writer Rebecca Traister would say about her new memoir. So scared, in fact, that her lawyer went to Semafor to try to pre-butt the New York magazine piece as “unfair” and “unobjective.” Cuomo resigned in 2021 because he sexually harassed at least 11 women, including nine employees, and DeRosa led efforts to retaliate against one of them.

And wow, was DeRosa right to be nervous. “It is ostensibly an attempt to set the record straight, but it is really an exercise in rehabilitating her image as a glass-ceiling breaker while painting Cuomo in a heroic light,” Traister writes of the book. It “lay[s] bare her enthusiasm for domination and retribution—exactly the qualities that paved the way for both Cuomo’s rise and his ouster.”

My only complaint is that the audio version of this article isn’t read by Traister herself. —Susan Rinkunas

I’d say sorry for a second Taylor Swift-related recommendation but it’s 1989 (Taylor’s Version) release day, so I’m not. I’d also argue this isn’t so much about Swift as it is about a hilarious, delightful piece of writing that, sure, was inspired by Swift but gives us so, so much more.

In the span of a week, Rachel Handler visited a handful of the NYC restaurants Swift’s been spotted at over the last couple of months, including Via Carota and Emilio’s Ballato, and tried to talk to servers and hosts about Swift’s vibe. “In the process, I would test my own stamina, the limits of a $75 per diem, a restaurant’s ability to recover from the sheer fact of Taylor Swift’s presence, and fate itself,” Handler writes. We soon learn that Zoë Kravitz busts tables, Greta Gerwig avoids eye contact, and if you plan on visiting Emilio’s Ballato, you better plan on ordering more than just vegetables. It’s a perfect weekend read for both Swifties and Swift-haters. —LT

This music video and music is like if Grimes, Charli XCX, and Sophia Coppola had a love child. It’s decadent, musically and visually. Any celebration of sapphic love will at least get one listen from me, but this Kesha-like anthem is on repeat for me this week as I paint my house with my girlfriend. —Caitlin Cruz