he essayed her

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Definition of essay verb from the Oxford Advanced Learner's Dictionary

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Meaning of essaying in English

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• give something your best shot idiom
• go after someone
• go all out idiom
• go down swinging/fighting idiom
• go for someone
• shoot for the moon idiom
• shoot the works idiom
• smarten (someone/something) up
• smarten up your act idiom
• square the circle idiom

Examples of essaying

In English, many past and present participles of verbs can be used as adjectives. Some of these examples may show the adjective use.

Word of the Day

two-wheeler

a vehicle with two wheels, usually a bicycle

Keeping up appearances (Talking about how things seem)

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• 1.1.1 Pronunciation
• 1.1.2.1 Derived terms
• 1.1.2.2 Related terms
• 1.1.2.3 Translations
• 1.2.1 Pronunciation
• 1.2.2.1 Translations
• 1.3 Anagrams
• 2.1 Etymology
• 2.2 Pronunciation
• 2.3.1 Hypernyms
• 2.3.2 Derived terms
• 2.3.3 Descendants
• 3.1 Etymology
• 3.2.1 Derived terms
• 3.3 References
• 4.1 Etymology
• 4.2.1 Derived terms
• 4.3 References

English [ edit ]

Etymology 1 [ edit ].

Since late 16th century, borrowed from Middle French essay , essai ( “ essay ” ) , meaning coined by Montaigne in the same time, from the same words in earlier meanings 'experiment; assay; attempt', from Old French essay , essai , assay , assai , from Latin exagium ( “ weight; weighing, testing on the balance ” ) , from exigere + -ium .

Pronunciation [ edit ]

• ( Received Pronunciation , General American ) IPA ( key ) : /ˈɛs.eɪ/ (1), IPA ( key ) : /ɛˈseɪ/ (2-4)
• Rhymes: -ɛseɪ
• Homophone : ese

Noun [ edit ]

essay ( plural essays )

• 2013 January, Katie L. Burke, “Ecological Dependency”, in American Scientist ‎ [1] , volume 101 , number 1, archived from the original on 9 February 2017 , page 64 : In his first book since the 2008 essay collection Natural Acts: A Sidelong View of Science and Nature , David Quammen looks at the natural world from yet another angle: the search for the next human pandemic, what epidemiologists call “the next big one.”
• ( obsolete ) A test , experiment ; an assay .
• 1861 , E. J. Guerin, Mountain Charley , page 16 : My first essay at getting employment was fruitless; but after no small number of mortifying rebuffs from various parties to whom I applied for assistance, I was at last rewarded by a comparative success.
• 1988 , James McPherson, Battle Cry of Freedom , Oxford, published 2003 , page 455 : This was Lee's first essay in the kind of offensive-defensive strategy that was to become his hallmark.
• ( philately , finance ) A proposed design for a postage stamp or a banknote .

Derived terms [ edit ]

• argumentative essay
• automated essay scoring
• eight-legged essay
• essay question
• photo-essay
• photo essay

Related terms [ edit ]

Translations [ edit ], etymology 2 [ edit ].

From Middle French essayer , essaier , from Old French essaiier , essayer , essaier , assaiier , assayer , assaier , from essay , essai , assay , assai ( “ attempt; assay; experiment ” ) as above.

• ( UK , US ) IPA ( key ) : /ɛˈseɪ/

Verb [ edit ]

essay ( third-person singular simple present essays , present participle essaying , simple past and past participle essayed )

• 1900 , Charles W. Chesnutt , chapter II, in The House Behind the Cedars : He retraced his steps to the front gate, which he essayed to open.
• 1950 April, R. A. H. Weight, “They Passed by My Window”, in Railway Magazine , page 260 : The train took the slow to branch spur at the north end at a not much slower speed, then essayed the short sharply curved climb with a terrific roar, smoke rising straight from the chimney to a height of some 60 ft., the long train twisting and curling behind.
• 2023 October 12, HarryBlank, “Fire in the Hole”, in SCP Foundation ‎ [2] , archived from the original on 22 May 2024 : There was the counter, there was the bulletin board, above her the dull sound of music being played over headphones. Something jaunty. She liked the beat. Then the sound of a chair being pushed back, and someone humming as they walked away from her, and she darted up to plunge the bayonet into their kidneys from behind. A followup stroke through the back of the neck, and the second soldier was down. She didn't even stop to see if it was a man or a woman, young or old. There were further hurdles to essay before she reached her destination.
• ( intransitive ) To move forth, as into battle.

Anagrams [ edit ]

• Sayes , Seays , Sesay , eyass

Dutch [ edit ]

Etymology [ edit ].

Borrowed from English essay ( “ essay ” ) , from Middle French essai ( “ essay; attempt, assay ” ) , from Old French essai , from Latin exagium (whence the neuter gender).

• IPA ( key ) : /ɛˈseː/ , /ˈɛ.seː/
• Hyphenation: es‧say
• Rhymes: -eː

essay   n ( plural essays , diminutive essaytje   n )

Hypernyms [ edit ]

Descendants [ edit ], norwegian bokmål [ edit ].

Borrowed from English essay , from Middle French essai .

essay   n ( definite singular essayet , indefinite plural essay or essayer , definite plural essaya or essayene )

• an essay , a written composition of moderate length exploring a particular subject
• essaysamling

References [ edit ]

• “essay” in The Bokmål Dictionary .

Norwegian Nynorsk [ edit ]

essay   n ( definite singular essayet , indefinite plural essay , definite plural essaya )

• “essay” in The Nynorsk Dictionary .

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Berthe Morisot With a Bouquet of Violets

Édouard manet, musée d’orsay, paris.

The Count and the Wedding Guest

"There is this difference between the grief of youth and that of old age: youth's burden is lightened by as much of it as another shares; old age may give and give, but the sorrow remains the same." Can Andy "count" on Maggie to tell the truth?

One evening when Andy Donovan went to dinner at his Second Avenue boarding-house, Mrs. Scott introduced him to a new boarder, a young lady, Miss Conway. Miss Conway was small and unobtrusive. She wore a plain, snuffy-brown dress, and bestowed her interest, which seemed languid, upon her plate. She lifted her diffident eyelids and shot one perspicuous, judicial glance at Mr. Donovan, politely murmured his name, and returned to her mutton. Mr. Donovan bowed with the grace and beaming smile that were rapidly winning for him social, business and political advancement, and erased the snuffy-brown one from the tablets of his consideration.

Two weeks later Andy was sitting on the front steps enjoying his cigar. There was a soft rustle behind and above him, and Andy turned his head—and had his head turned.

Just coming out the door was Miss Conway. She wore a night-black dress of crepe de—crepe de—oh, this thin black goods. Her hat was black, and from it drooped and fluttered an ebon veil, filmy as a spider’s web. She stood on the top step and drew on black silk gloves. Not a speck of white or a spot of color about her dress anywhere. Her rich golden hair was drawn, with scarcely a ripple, into a shining, smooth knot low on her neck. Her face was plain rather than pretty, but it was now illuminated and made almost beautiful by her large gray eyes that gazed above the houses across the street into the sky with an expression of the most appealing sadness and melancholy.

Gather the idea, girls—all black, you know, with the preference for crepe de—oh, crepe de Chine—that’s it. All black, and that sad, faraway look, and the hair shining under the black veil (you have to be a blonde, of course), and try to look as if, although your young life had been blighted just as it was about to give a hop-skip-and-a-jump over the threshold of life, a walk in the park might do you good, and be sure to happen out the door at the right moment, and—oh, it’ll fetch 'em every time. But it’s fierce, now, how cynical I am, ain’t it?—to talk about mourning costumes this way.

Mr. Donovan suddenly reinscribed Miss Conway upon the tablets of his consideration. He threw away the remaining inch-and-a-quarter of his cigar, that would have been good for eight minutes yet, and quickly shifted his center of gravity to his low cut patent leathers.

“It’s a fine, clear evening, Miss Conway,” he said; and if the Weather Bureau could have heard the confident emphasis of his tones it would have hoisted the square white signal, and nailed it to the mast.

“To them that has the heart to enjoy it, it is, Mr. Donovan,” said Miss Conway, with a sigh.

Mr. Donovan, in his heart, cursed fair weather. Heartless weather! It should hail and blow and snow to be consonant with the mood of Miss Conway.

“I hope none of your relatives—I hope you haven’t sustained a loss?” ventured Mr. Donovan.

“Death has claimed,” said Miss Conway, hesitating—"not a relative, but one who—but I will not intrude my grief upon you, Mr. Donovan.”

“Intrude?” protested Mr. Donovan. “Why, say, Miss Conway, I’d be delighted, that is, I’d be sorry—I mean I’m sure nobody could sympathize with you truer than I would.”

Miss Conway smiled a little smile. And oh, it was sadder than her expression in repose.

“'Laugh, and the world laughs with you; weep, and they give you the laugh,'” she quoted. “I have learned that, Mr. Donovan. I have no friends or acquaintances in this city. But you have been kind to me. I appreciate it highly.”

He had passed her the pepper twice at the table.

“It’s tough to be alone in New York—that’s a cinch,” said Mr. Donovan. “But, say—whenever this little old town does loosen up and get friendly it goes the limit. Say you took a little stroll in the park, Miss Conway—don’t you think it might chase away some of your mullygrubs? And if you’d allow me—”

“Thanks, Mr. Donovan. I’d be pleased to accept of your escort if you think the company of one whose heart is filled with gloom could be anyways agreeable to you.”

Through the open gates of the iron-railed, old, downtown park, where the elect once took the air, they strolled, and found a quiet bench.

There is this difference between the grief of youth and that of old age: youth’s burden is lightened by as much of it as another shares; old age may give and give, but the sorrow remains the same.

“He was my fiance,” confided Miss Conway, at the end of an hour. “We were going to be married next spring. I don’t want you to think that I am stringing you, Mr. Donovan, but he was a real Count. He had an estate and a castle in Italy. Count Fernando Mazzini was his name. I never saw the beat of him for elegance. Papa objected, of course, and once we eloped, but papa overtook us, and took us back. I thought sure papa and Fernando would fight a duel. Papa has a livery business—in P’kipsee, you know.”

“Finally, papa came 'round, all right, and said we might be married next spring. Fernando showed him proofs of his title and wealth, and then went over to Italy to get the castle fixed up for us. Papa’s very proud, and when Fernando wanted to give me several thousand dollars for my trousseau he called him down something awful. He wouldn’t even let me take a ring or any presents from him. And when Fernando sailed I came to the city and got a position as cashier in a candy store.”

“Three days ago I got a letter from Italy, forwarded from P’kipsee, saying that Fernando had been killed in a gondola accident.”

“That is why I am in mourning. My heart, Mr. Donovan, will remain forever in his grave. I guess I am poor company, Mr. Donovan, but I cannot take any interest in no one. I should not care to keep you from gayety and your friends who can smile and entertain you. Perhaps you would prefer to walk back to the house?”

Now, girls, if you want to observe a young man hustle out after a pick and shovel, just tell him that your heart is in some other fellow’s grave. Young men are grave-robbers by nature. Ask any widow. Something must be done to restore that missing organ to weeping angels in crepe de Chine. Dead men certainly get the worst of it from all sides.

“I’m awfully sorry,” said Mr. Donovan, gently. “No, we won’t walk back to the house just yet. And don’t say you haven’t no friends in this city, Miss Conway. I’m awful sorry, and I want you to believe I’m your friend, and that I’m awful sorry.”

“I’ve got his picture here in my locket,” said Miss Conway, after wiping her eyes with her handkerchief. “I never showed it to anybody; but I will to you, Mr. Donovan, because I believe you to be a true friend.”

Mr. Donovan gazed long and with much interest at the photograph in the locket that Miss Conway opened for him. The face of Count Mazzini was one to command interest. It was a smooth, intelligent, bright, almost a handsome face—the face of a strong, cheerful man who might well be a leader among his fellows.

“I have a larger one, framed, in my room,” said Miss Conway. “When we return I will show you that. They are all I have to remind me of Fernando. But he ever will be present in my heart, that’s a sure thing.”

A subtle task confronted Mr. Donovan,—that of supplanting the unfortunate Count in the heart of Miss Conway. This his admiration for her determined him to do. But the magnitude of the undertaking did not seem to weigh upon his spirits. The sympathetic but cheerful friend was the role he essayed; and he played it so successfully that the next half-hour found them conversing pensively across two plates of ice-cream, though yet there was no diminution of the sadness in Miss Conway’s large gray eyes.

Before they parted in the hall that evening she ran upstairs and brought down the framed photograph wrapped lovingly in a white silk scarf. Mr. Donovan surveyed it with inscrutable eyes.

“He gave me this the night he left for Italy,” said Miss Conway. “I had the one for the locket made from this.”

“A fine-looking man,” said Mr. Donovan, heartily. “How would it suit you, Miss Conway, to give me the pleasure of your company to Coney next Sunday afternoon?”

A month later they announced their engagement to Mrs. Scott and the other boarders. Miss Conway continued to wear black.

A week after the announcement the two sat on the same bench in the downtown park, while the fluttering leaves of the trees made a dim kinetoscopic picture of them in the moonlight. But Donovan had worn a look of abstracted gloom all day. He was so silent to-night that love’s lips could not keep back any longer the questions that love’s heart propounded.

“What’s the matter, Andy, you are so solemn and grouchy to-night?”

“Nothing, Maggie.”

“I know better. Can’t I tell? You never acted this way before. What is it?”

“It’s nothing much, Maggie.”

“Yes it is; and I want to know. I’ll bet it’s some other girl you are thinking about. All right. Why don’t you go get her if you want her? Take your arm away, if you please.”

“I’ll tell you then,” said Andy, wisely, “but I guess you won’t understand it exactly. You’ve heard of Mike Sullivan, haven’t you? 'Big Mike’ Sullivan, everybody calls him.”

“No, I haven’t,” said Maggie. “And I don’t want to, if he makes you act like this. Who is he?”

“He’s the biggest man in New York,” said Andy, almost reverently. “He can about do anything he wants to with Tammany or any other old thing in the political line. He’s a mile high and as broad as East River. You say anything against Big Mike, and you’ll have a million men on your collarbone in about two seconds. Why, he made a visit over to the old country awhile back, and the kings took to their holes like rabbits.

”Well, Big Mike’s a friend of mine. I ain’t more than deuce-high in the district as far as influence goes, but Mike’s as good a friend to a little man, or a poor man as he is to a big one. I met him to-day on the Bowery, and what do you think he does? Comes up and shakes hands. ‘Andy,’ says he, 'I’ve been keeping cases on you. You’ve been putting in some good licks over on your side of the street, and I’m proud of you. What’ll you take to drink?" He takes a cigar, and I take a highball. I told him I was going to get married in two weeks. ‘Andy,’ says he, 'send me an invitation, so I’ll keep in mind of it, and I’ll come to the wedding.' That’s what Big Mike says to me; and he always does what he says.

“You don’t understand it, Maggie, but I’d have one of my hands cut off to have Big Mike Sullivan at our wedding. It would be the proudest day of my life. When he goes to a man’s wedding, there’s a guy being married that’s made for life. Now, that’s why I’m maybe looking sore to-night.”

“Why don’t you invite him, then, if he’s so much to the mustard?” said Maggie, lightly.

“There’s a reason why I can’t,” said Andy, sadly. “There’s a reason why he mustn’t be there. Don’t ask me what it is, for I can’t tell you.”

“Oh, I don’t care,” said Maggie. “It’s something about politics, of course. But it’s no reason why you can’t smile at me.”

“Maggie,” said Andy, presently, “do you think as much of me as you did of your—as you did of the Count Mazzini?”

He waited a long time, but Maggie did not reply. And then, suddenly she leaned against his shoulder and began to cry—to cry and shake with sobs, holding his arm tightly, and wetting the crepe de Chine with tears.

“There, there, there!” soothed Andy, putting aside his own trouble. “And what is it, now?”

“Andy,” sobbed Maggie. “I’ve lied to you, and you’ll never marry me, or love me any more. But I feel that I’ve got to tell. Andy, there never was so much as the little finger of a count. I never had a beau in my life. But all the other girls had; and they talked about ‘em; and that seemed to make the fellows like ’em more. And, Andy, I look swell in black—you know I do. So I went out to a photograph store and bought that picture, and had a little one made for my locket, and made up all that story about the Count, and about his being killed, so I could wear black. And nobody can love a liar, and you’ll shake me, Andy, and I’ll die for shame. Oh, there never was anybody I liked but you—and that’s all.”

But instead of being pushed away, she found Andy’s arm folding her closer. She looked up and saw his face cleared and smiling.

“Could you—could you forgive me, Andy?”

“Sure,” said Andy. “It’s all right about that. Back to the cemetery for the Count. You’ve straightened everything out, Maggie. I was in hopes you would before the wedding-day. Bully girl!”

“Andy,” said Maggie, with a somewhat shy smile, after she had been thoroughly assured of forgiveness, “did you believe all that story about the Count?”

“Well, not to any large extent,” said Andy, reaching for his cigar case, “because it’s Big Mike Sullivan’s picture you’ve got in that locket of yours.”

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Glam divas show no qualms to essay mom roles

Hyderabad: Close on the heels of glam diva Tammanah playing a mother in the dubbed film "Baak", pretty actress Neha Shetty essayed the role of a mother in her latest release ‘Gangs of Godavari’ and it looks like glam divas have no qualms essaying mother roles on screen. “There is nothing wrong with young actresses essaying mother roles since it is just another role for them," says director Hemanth Madhukar who claims that the audience's tastes are changing and watching films with broader vision. “The days of actresses being typecast have gone and now young viewers are connecting with new-age moms on screen since they witness a lot of young mothers around them in their workplace or colonies and doing their work with ease,” he adds.

Earlier, Keerthy Suresh and Shraddha Srinath changed the game, took up such roles, and tasted success. “Keerthy Suresh didn’t bat an eyelid and was truly excited about the story in ‘Penguin’ and agreed to play the mom role,” says director Eashwar Karthic who made the unique thriller ‘Penguin’ revolving around a pregnant woman who tracks down a serial killer. “She is very talented and pulled off the role with ease,” he adds. Similarly, Shradda Srinath proved her acting prowess as a doting mother in 'Jersey' and also essayed a mature lover in 'Saindhav'

Even 30-plus actresses like Tamannaah and Anushka Shetty have also joined the bandwagon to perform new characters. “Tammanah played a mother in ‘Aranmanai 4’(Baak) since it was a sequel and she fit into the character, while Anushka Shetty appeared as a pregnant woman in ‘Miss Shetty Mr Polishetty and both justified their presence. I don’t think age is a barrier for talented actresses and they are expanding their versatility with different roles,“ points out Hemanth

He gives an interesting perspective to this trend and adds, “Chiranjeevi played a father in his film ‘Daddy’ and Venkatesh in ‘Tulasi’, Nani in 'Hi Nanna' and now young hero Vishwak Sen didn’t mind paying a father in ‘Gangs of Godavari’. When big heroes are themselves essaying the role of father, actresses like Simran, Nayantara and now Neha Shetty were also a bit inspired and donned mature roles,” he concludes.

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"Lock her up": Trump falsely claims he never embraced calls for jailing Hillary Clinton

Trump has repeatedly called for jailing his political opponents, from hillary clinton to joe biden, by nicholas liu.

Donald Trump, facing the threat of a prison sentence after jurors convicted him on 34 felony charges, is now denying that he ever used "Lock her up" as a rallying cry against his 2016 rival, Hillary Clinton. He made this claim during an interview with Fox & Friends on Sunday, after co-host Will Cain tried to portray the former president as merciful.

"You famously said, regarding Hillary Clinton, ‘Lock her up.’" said Cain. "You declined to do that as president."

“I beat her,” Trump responded. “It’s easier when you win. They always said, ‘Lock her up.’ And I could have done it, but I felt it would have been a terrible thing. And then this happened to me, so I may feel differently about it."

Trump proceeded to blame his supporters for invoking the chant. "Hillary Clinton — I didn’t say, ‘Lock her up,’ but the people would all say, ‘Lock her up, lock her up.’ OK. Then we won, and I said pretty openly, I’d say, ‘Alright, come on, just relax. Let’s go. We gotta make our country great.’"

Post by @julielaumann View on Threads

But Trump's many statements on the campaign trail and after his election easily prove his claim false. He repeatedly promised to imprison Clinton, including to her face , and threatened to appoint a special prosecutor to probe her and her campaign over her use of a private email server during her tenure as Barack Obama's secretary of state. When his supporters began the chant at rallies, Trump would often enthusiastically state his agreement. "For what she's done, they should lock her up," he once said .

In the 2020 election, Trump revived the chant again, this time including the Bidens in his prison lineup ("Lock up the Bidens," he said). Now, he is accusing Biden of masterminding a political persecution of him, even though the charges of Trump falsifying business records to cover up a sex scandal were brought by an independently elected prosecutor.

Trump Denies Ever Saying ‘Lock Her Up.’ He Did … Several Times

• By Peter Wade

In an interview on Fox & Friends , filmed 48 hours after he was convicted on 34 counts of falsifying business records, Donald Trump attempted to rewrite history. Now that he is facing legal consequences for paying hush money to adult film actress Stormy Daniels, the former president is denying he ever said “Lock her up” about Hillary Clinton , his 2016 opponent.

“You famously said regarding Hillary Clinton , ‘Lock her up.’ You declined to do that as president,” said Fox host Will Cain, implying that the president has control over who is prosecuted.

“I beat her,” Trump replied. “It’s easier when you win. They always said, ‘Lock her up.’ And I could have done it, but I felt it would have been a terrible thing. And then this happened to me, so I may feel differently about it. I can’t tell you, I’m not sure I can answer the question.”

"I didn't say 'lock her up'" — Trump, on Fox & Friends and facing possible jail time, tries to distance himself from the ubiquitous "lock her up" chants about Hillary Clinton at her rallies pic.twitter.com/r1YPIbOqkn — Aaron Rupar (@atrupar) June 2, 2024

That is, of course, a lie. Trump not only beamed and nodded from the podium as his rally crowds chanted, “Lock her up,” he also said it himself, multiple times. He said it on Oct. 14, 2016, at a rally in Greensboro, N.C. As the crowd chanted the line, Trump said, “For what she’s done, they should lock her up.”

Trump: Lock up the Bidens, lock up Hillary. Lock them up pic.twitter.com/QCOKUmHwVF — Acyn (@Acyn) October 16, 2020

In fact, he said it numerous times on the 2016 campaign trail, and he carried the line forward during his presidency. He even said it of Michigan Gov. Gretchen Whitmer in October 2020. When the crowd chanted, “Lock her up!” about Whitmer, Trump responded with, “Lock them all up.” And that same month, he told a crowd of the Bidens, “You should lock them up. Lock up the Bidens, lock up Hillary.”

When a crowd chanted, “Lock her up!” about Dr. Christine Blasey-Ford, the professor who accused Supreme Court Justice Bret Kavanaugh of assaulting her when both were teens, Trump gave the crowd enthusiastic nods and a thumbs-up.

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“The answer is you have no choice, because they’re doing it to us,” Trump responded.

Even with his conviction, it is unlikely that Trump himself will be “locked up” for any period of time. He will almost certainly appeal, and a prison sentence is unlikely for someone convicted of falsifying business records. But even though he faces a vanishingly small chance of time behind bars, Trump is all of a sudden painting himself as soft on crime.

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Dear Annie: He won’t introduce her to his female friends as his girlfriend and says her jealousy is ‘a turn-off’

• Published: Jun. 02, 2024, 11:30 a.m.

Annie Lane writes the Dear Annie advice column. Creators.com

DEAR ANNIE: I’ve been in an on-and-off relationship with a guy for four years. He has a lot of female friends, and I’m not really sure how I am supposed to feel about that. He goes to dinner with them for their birthdays and meets them out for drinks, and yet he won’t introduce me to them as his girlfriend. He tells me that my jealousy is a turnoff, but I feel like some boundaries are being crossed here. Please help. -- Jealous and Confused

DEAR JEALOUS AND CONFUSED: You have every right to feel jealous and confused. But there is not much confusion, really. He is dismissing your feelings and shutting you out of a part of his life. I say move on and find someone who is better for you.

DEAR ANNIE: This is the first time I’ve ever written to an advice columnist, but I recently read your column with the letter from “Baffled Daughter,” whose mother was a 77-year-old woman who admitted to having an affair with a young male nurse who is married with children.

You gave sound advice about reporting it to the rehab facility, but I just wanted to suggest one possibility: She could have dementia. My mother is now 90 years old and has been in a nursing home for 12 years with dementia (bedridden now), but 14 years ago, she told me she had been kidnapped by a neighbor on the block and that he had taken her keys and had a priest marry them. This was my first sign of realizing that my mother was mentally off; the neighbor had died six months earlier of the same disease, so she had not seen him that day but she thought that she had.

It’s just a thought -- that the 77-year-old woman also has a form of memory loss and therefore has problems with reality.

I enjoy your column, so keep up the great work! -- Dementia Advice

DEAR DEMENTIA ADVICE: You bring up a great point. She should have her mother checked for memory care, as the whole affair might have been something she imagined because of dementia. Thanks for writing.

Send your questions for Annie Lane to [email protected] .

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Synonyms of essayed

• as in tried
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Thesaurus Definition of essayed

Synonyms & Similar Words

• had a go at
• tried one's hand (at)

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“Essayed.” Merriam-Webster.com Thesaurus , Merriam-Webster, https://www.merriam-webster.com/thesaurus/essayed. Accessed 3 Jun. 2024.

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She backed Israel; her son led a protest. Could they withstand war?

One Tuesday night last fall, Emily Strong’s teenage son called and said he planned to be arrested the next day.

Emily’s head spun. Eric had never been in trouble. He was the oldest of her three children, a gentle boy with deep empathy for others. He’d gone on mission trips with their church, and he’d earned straight A’s his first semester at the University of Massachusetts at Amherst.

“Back up,” Emily told him. “What’s going on?”

Eric told his mother he had rallied in support of Palestinians a week earlier, and now, he and several hundred other students planned to stage a sit-in at the university. He’d followed the conflict since he was in high school, and he’d watched online in recent years as some Palestinians lived in Gaza as refugees with limited food or work.

“I’m furious,” Eric said. “I can’t stand what’s going on, and I feel a need to do this.”

Emily told herself not to freak out. She had followed the conflict, too — albeit the way many upper-middle-class suburban moms with three children, a job and ailing parents do. She skimmed the news. But she came away from those reports with a different reaction than her son. She’d been horrified when Hamas attacked Israel on Oct. 7, and she’d felt proud of President Biden’s promise to protect the Jewish state.

Around 1,200 Israelis had died in the attack, Emily reminded her son.

“People are grieving,” she said. “This is such a horrible, traumatic thing that happened. Are you acknowledging their pain?”

The protests that would eventually spread to campuses in nearly half of U.S. states had yet to become a well-known movement, but Emily lives near Boston, and she’d read about pro-Palestinian protests at Harvard University. She knew some people found the demonstrations antisemitic, and she worried her own Jewish friends would think her son was antisemitic, too. Her church had always had strong ties to a local temple. The rabbi came every other year to speak, and she and Eric had gone to the temple, too.

“Mom,” he told her. “There are Jewish kids in this protest with me.”

Emily, 49, worried he’d get hurt. She feared he’d ruin his job prospects. She wanted to talk him out of it, but he was 19 and old enough, she supposed, to make his own decisions.

She told him she loved him. He promised to update her throughout the day. They hung up, and Emily felt so uncomfortable, she didn’t sleep at all.

Eric first learned about the Israeli-Palestinian conflict four years ago, when he was a sophomore at Andover High School. That year, he took an elective called The Modern Middle East, and in it, he read articles that the Palestinian-American Edward Said wrote about Jerusalem.

“I thought people being displaced from their homes was awful,” Eric said. “From then on, I broadly aligned myself as pro-Palestinian.”

Still, he didn’t do much with those feelings. He was a teenage boy, and he spent much of his time watching sports or playing video games. He monitored news of the conflict on Twitter, and once, in May 2021, as violence erupted over the pending eviction of several Arab families from East Jerusalem, he posted a pro-Palestinian article on his Instagram story.

“I thought I was woke at the time,” he said. “I cared about it, but I didn’t have a way to get super involved.”

Eric became more politically active after he enrolled at UMass-Amherst in 2022. He signed up for classes on American imperialism, and in the spring of 2023, after some students were unable to secure on-campus housing, he and others set up tents on the school lawn to protest.

When Hamas-led forces stormed Israel’s barrier fence and rampaged 20 residential communities on Oct. 7, Eric didn’t feel surprised. He didn’t support the attack, but he’d learned in classes that oppressed people around the globe have historically used violence to resist occupation. That was, at its core, how he saw the Israeli-Palestinian dynamic.

The attack was the deadliest aggression against Jews since the Holocaust. More than 250 Israelis were dragged into Gaza as hostages, according to Israeli officials. Two days later , Israeli officials declared a complete siege of Gaza.

Later that week, roughly 300 UMass students gathered in front of the Student Union to support Palestinians. Eric joined them. The students marched and chanted, and they demanded the chancellor release a statement “in solidarity with Palestinians.” They also asked the school to cut ties with the defense contractor Raytheon Technologies, which produces missile components for Israel’s Iron Dome air defense system . (As a partner to a number of university programs, Raytheon recruits UMass students for jobs and funds research opportunities.)

UMass-Amherst has a long history of protest. Until recently, the college even included the phrase “be revolutionary” in its marketing materials. In 1986, 60 people were arrested after former president Jimmy Carter’s daughter led a protest there against the CIA. Another two dozen went to jail in 2016 after they protested the university’s investment in fossil fuels. That demonstration was successful: A month later, the university’s foundation unanimously decided to divest the school’s endowment from fossil fuel holdings.

But little happened after the pro-Palestinian rally last October. The school didn’t cut ties with Raytheon, and the chancellor didn’t side with Palestinians. Eric and the other students decided they needed to do what Jimmy Carter’s daughter had. They would take over a building.

They settled on the Whitmore Administration Building, a three-story structure where the chancellor and other high-level employees have offices. Legally, students are allowed to protest in Whitmore when it’s open, and campus officials say hardly a week goes by without someone marching down the halls in favor of one cause or another. But those protests don’t make the news, and they often don’t end in meetings with the chancellor, so Eric and others decided they would stay even after the offices closed at 5.

Campus officials consider after-hours sit-ins to be trespassing, so the night before the protest, Eric called to give his mother a heads-up. He didn’t want to surprise her with a late-night call from jail, but more than anything, he hoped she might give him her blessing. She was his hero. He wanted her to tell him he was doing the right thing.

On the call, Eric reminded his mom that she had taught him to fight for social justice. She’d taken him to Washington, D.C., when he was 8 to protest the Keystone Pipeline. Two years later, they’d gone to New York City to participate in the People’s Climate March.

But those weren’t the same, Emily thought. She’d taken him to sanctioned marches — permitted events where people sang and went home after. Most Americans believe Israel has valid reasons for fighting Hamas, and Emily had heard that people doxed and rescinded job offers from the Harvard students who protested. She worried Eric was taking a big irrevocable step that might follow him the rest of his life.

“This could affect your future,” she told her son.

Eric paused. She was right, he thought. A controversial arrest could hamper his job prospects.

“But Mom,” he said. “I don’t think I want to work anywhere that won’t hire me because I protested for Palestine when I was 19. I don’t want to live a life where I have to sacrifice my moral convictions to get by.”

As she tossed around that night, Emily thought of her Jewish friends and her son’s future, and somewhere between dusk and dawn, she considered her own convictions. She had felt profound empathy for Jewish people since her parents took her to visit the Dachau concentration camp when she was 13. As far as she understood it, Jewish people created Israel after the Holocaust because they needed a place to be safe from persecution. They deserved that, she thought. But what did she know about Palestinians?

Emily runs a small farm an hour and a half from Amherst, and late October can be a crucial time. She had to harvest peppers and squash, then plant garlic before the first frost hit. But she felt anxious as she worked the half-acre. She kept checking her phone. Eric hadn’t texted. By the end of the workday, she was a mess.

Soon after 6 p.m., Eric told her the police had arrived. Emily’s heart beat faster. What if someone provoked the officers? What if Eric got hurt? She walked aimless loops around the house, but she didn’t want Eric to worry about her feelings, so she thanked him for texting and asked him to be respectful of the police.

“Everyone is being very cool,” he wrote. “Just playing music and talking.”

Officers arrested a group of women and trans people first. Hours passed, and Eric remained in the building. Later, both Eric and Emily would say parts of the sit-in reminded them of his church youth group days. The protesters ate pizza and played the game Mafia. Eric used his cellphone to watch the Boston Celtics beat the New York Knicks .

Shortly after 11 p.m., Eric texted Emily to say the police had told the protesters who remained that they wouldn’t arrest them if they left the building now.

Okay, Emily thought, he’d made his point. She hadn’t told him how nervous she was or how badly she didn’t want him to be arrested, but now, she sensed an opportunity. Local news outlets had written about the protests early that evening. He’d done what he set out to do, and now he could leave without hurting his future.

“I’m not sure getting arrested will bring any more publicity,” she told him.

“We’re not leaving till they meet our demands,” he said.

Everything inside Emily felt shaken up, but she told Eric she loved him, then somehow, she went to sleep. The next morning, she read in the Boston Globe that 57 people had been arrested. She hadn’t heard from Eric.

“Good morning,” she texted him. “Please send an update when you can.”

Hours went by. She was at work, leading a group of volunteers around the farm, but she could barely focus. She checked her phone every chance she could, and finally, a little before noon, Eric responded.

Police zip-tied his wrists behind his back, then escorted him out of the building a little after midnight, he told her. The jail clerk had gone home for the day, so he spent the night in a cell with eight other protesters. He went back to his dorm around 6 a.m.

“I just woke up rn,” he texted.

Emily was relieved. In that moment, she had no energy to weigh the consequences of Eric’s arrest. He was safe. That was all that mattered.

Eric was groggy that day, so they didn’t talk much about Israel or the Palestinian territories, but in the days that followed, Emily tried to learn. She listened to Ezra Klein podcasts, and she read in full articles she once might have skimmed or ignored.

A week later, in early November, Eric called while Emily was moving compost at the farm. She told him she disagreed with Hamas, and she wanted Eric to condemn them, too. They were a terrorist group, she told him. They wanted to remove the state of Israel. That was awful, unequivocally wrong, and she didn’t support it.

Eric assured her he didn’t support Hamas. As a Christian, he could not in good conscience say Oct. 7 was a good thing. It was wrong to kill innocent civilians. But ultimately, he told his mother, his opinion on the group itself was irrelevant. Israel, he felt, had been problematic since its inception. He and his friends wanted a place where Jews and Palestinians could live in harmony, but he didn’t believe that place was Israel.

From his point of view, Israel had long been to blame for the conflict. He empathized with Palestinians displaced by the war that broke out in 1948 after Israel declared independence. And he was frustrated by what he saw as a series of assaults against the Palestinian people. Palestinians had tried a largely peaceful protest in 2018, he told his mom, and Israelis responded with what many considered excessive force and violence.

To drive home his point, he mentioned a talk he’d seen on campus earlier that week. The controversial historian Norman Finkelstein had compared Hamas’s actions to the revolts that the enslaved preacher Nat Turner led in 1831. That insurrection left roughly 60 White people dead. Afterward, Finkelstein explained, some abolitionists refused to condone or condemn the violent uprising.

“The root of this violence is the subjugation,” Eric told his mother. “My view is, like, if you want to stop the conflict in Gaza, stop the Israeli occupation. Give the Palestinian people self-determination because ultimately it’s their decision to make, not ours.”

Emily and Eric talked for two hours, and eventually, she sat in the middle of the orchard, exhausted. She felt such dissonance. She’d always held strong convictions — it was one of the things her husband most loved about her — but now she doubted them.

That winter, Eric took a plea deal that lowered his charges to a civil penalty, and administrators punished him with a warning. He had planned to apply to study abroad in China, but because of the sanction, he no longer could . In the spring, as protests cropped up at Columbia University and other schools, he applied for off-campus housing and found that some landlords wouldn’t rent to him because of his sanction.

Emily continued to try to learn. She read articles about the other protests happening across the country, and she felt sick when she spotted antisemitic signs in some crowds. And she didn’t agree with her son about the state of Israel. The only reasonable and equitable path toward peace, she thought, was a two-state solution.

Still, she felt proud of his calls for a cease-fire. She watched footage from Gaza, and she no longer felt unwavering pride for Biden’s response. Increasingly, she believed Eric and the students were right: The U.S. needed to stop sending weapons to Israel.

As the number of protests nationwide more than doubled , Emily found herself feeling grateful to the young people, but then, in late April, Eric called to say he planned to protest again.

This time, Emily and her husband, David, felt more afraid. Protests in other states had turned violent , and they worried someone might attack Eric. In April, the U.S. Education Department’s Office for Civil Rights opened an investigation into UMass after 18 students complained that they’d been harassed and assaulted after the October protests. (In a statement, university officials said they condemn hatred of all forms and are cooperating with federal officials.)

Eric sounded exhausted but excited when he called. The protest was a spinoff of the housing rally he’d done a year earlier. Students would set up tents on the lawn, and they’d host a variety of events — everything from a professor-led teach-in to an on-site library for people who wanted to learn more. University officials had allowed the housing protest with tents the year before, and he didn’t expect to face penalties this time.

After the call, Emily and David went to Town Meeting, an Andover event where voters cram into the high school to debate, make motions and approve the local budget. The meeting turned a bit angry, so Emily pulled out her phone to distract herself. Two Facebook posts alarmed her. One parent had posted about the protests, and another had responded, “arrest them all.” Another parent shared an email the chancellor had sent. The students who planned to protest didn’t have permission to set up tents, he wrote. If they didn’t take them down, the university would have them arrested.

Emily closed her phone. Eric was still on probation. If police arrested him again, he could spend up to 90 days in jail, and the university might expel him.

By then, more than 34,000 Palestinians had died, according to the Gaza Health Ministry, and 2,000 students had been arrested for protesting on American campuses. Emily started to feel angry in a new way. Every article she read seemed to treat the demonstrations as a problem. But the students weren’t the problem, she thought. War was the problem.

Still, she felt nauseated as Eric rallied every day and night for a week. One night, officers arrested more than 130 people, and Emily spent hours unsure if her son was among them.

Finally, late the next morning, he called to say he’d gone home before midnight on his own volition. He didn’t want to be arrested again, he assured her. One night in a cell felt long enough, and he had no interest in spending another three months inside one. Plus, he didn’t want to be expelled.

She was relieved. There was so much they still didn’t agree on, but they listened to each other, and they talked more than they ever had. What the country needed, she thought, was a national conversation similar to the one she and Eric had been having, one with space to acknowledge the pain and historic suffering both Israelis and Palestinians had endured.

One night in early May, while Eric protested outside Amherst, Emily wrote an email to her congressman. Her son had shaken her awake, she explained.

“I believe universities have a responsibility to act as a bridge between the students and a complacent and uninformed public (myself included),” she wrote. “We should be calling for universities to help us in this national dialogue, not calling in the police.”

She ran the email by Eric, and she suspected he might be disappointed that her note was far blander than one he might have written. But that was okay, she thought. They were allowed to disagree.

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Pat Sajak tells daughter Maggie, 29, he wants grandkids amid her romance with Ross McCall, 48

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Pat Sajak is ready for his daughter to have children amid her budding romance with Ross McCall.

The “Wheel of Fortune” host, 77, shared his desire to become a grandfather while being interviewed by Maggie Sajak about his time on the game show ahead of his retirement.

“I’m perfectly happy if it just means that I’ll continue with my crossword puzzles and play with grandchildren. Hint hint hint. No pressure,” he joked in a clip obtained by “Good Morning America” Monday.

Pat added, “It’s been a great 40 years, and I’m looking forward to whatever’s ahead.”

His comments about grandkids come after Maggie, a social correspondent for the game show, was spotted showing PDA with McCall in March.

Maggie, 29, and the “White Collar” actor, 48, were seen kissing and holding hands while enjoying a romantic stroll in Los Angeles at the time. They also have shown love to each other on social media.

McCall was previously engaged to Jennifer Love Hewitt in 2007 and Alessandra Mastronardi in 2021.

Pat also told his daughter that he was ready for new adventures after hosting “Wheel” for more than four decades.

“I’ve always said to you, you’ve heard me say this dozens of times: I’d rather leave a couple years too early than a couple of years too late,” he said.

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The Emmy winner announced in June 2023 that he would be retiring from the show .

His final episode, which is also the Season 41 finale, airs this Friday.

“This was announced a long time ago, almost a year ago. So I’ve had time to sort of get used to it,” he said in the interview. “And it’s been a little bit wistful and all that, but I’m enjoying it and taking it all in and reflecting on the great run.”

Pat said the series was “more than a popular show” to him during his historic run.

“We became part of the popular culture. And more importantly, we became part of people’s lives. And that’s been awfully gratifying,” he shared.

Ryan Seacrest will replace Pat as host, while Vanna White is set to continue to work the puzzle board after negotiating a “substantial pay increase” from her current $3 million annual salary.

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Trump falsely claims he never called for Hillary Clinton to be locked up

“Lock her up” is perhaps one of the most popular chants among Trump supporters, and he agreed with it or explicitly called for her jailing on several occasions.

Former president Donald Trump, who now awaits sentencing after being convicted on Thursday on 34 charges in his hush money trial, told Fox News that he never called for his 2016 presidential campaign rival, Hillary Clinton, to be sent to jail.

During an interview, portions of which aired Sunday on “Fox & Friends Weekend,” Trump was asked about a call often heard at his campaign rallies: “Lock her up.”

The chant is perhaps one of the most popular among Trump supporters, and it refers to demands by his voters to imprison Clinton over her use of a private email server while secretary of state.

“You famously said, regarding Hillary Clinton, ‘Lock her up.’ You declined to do that as president,” Fox co-host Will Cain told Trump.

“I beat her,” Trump replied. “It’s easier when you win. And they always said lock her up, and I felt — and I could have done it, but I felt it would have been a terrible thing. And then this happened to me.”

Trump then asserted that he never called for Clinton’s jailing.

“I didn’t say ‘lock her up,’ but the people said lock her up, lock her up,” Trump said. “Then, we won. And I say — and I said pretty openly, I said, all right, come on, just relax, let’s go, we’ve got to make our country great.”

However, there are several instances in which Trump called explicitly for Clinton’s jailing and others in which he agreed with his supporters’ chants.

In July 2016, for example, Trump said he would not be “Mr. Nice Guy” when it came to Clinton, during a Colorado rally where the crowd was calling for Clinton to be locked up.

“Every time I mention her, everyone screams, ‘Lock her up, lock her up,’” Trump told the crowd. “You know what, I’m starting to agree with you.”

On Twitter, now known as X, Trump posted that October: “Hillary Clinton should have been prosecuted and should be in jail. Instead she is running for president in what looks like a rigged election.”

During a campaign rally in June 2016, Trump said Clinton “has to go to jail,” Politico reported at the time. “She has to go to jail. … She’s guilty as hell.”

During an October 2016 debate , Trump also threatened that he could jail Clinton if he used his executive power as president to reopen that email-server case. “If I win, I am going to instruct my attorney general to get a special prosecutor to look into your situation,” Trump said.

But after his election, on Nov. 9, 2016, Trump did not lash out at Clinton when, during a post-election rally, a crowd began a loud chant of “Lock her up!”

“Hillary has worked very long and very hard over a long period of time and we owe her a major debt of gratitude for her service to our country,” Trump said then. “I mean that very seriously. Now it is time for America to bind the wounds of division. … I say it is time for us to come together as one united people.”

But the chants didn’t stop, even four years later when Trump was running against a different Democratic presidential nominee. In September 2020, Trump said “I agree” during chants to lock up Clinton.

After his conviction in New York, Trump faces uncertainty about whether he could be sentenced to prison. His legal team has vowed to appeal the guilty verdict, and New York Supreme Court Justice Juan Merchan has scheduled his sentencing for July 11. Merchan, who oversaw Trump’s trial, will also decide his punishment. Potential sentences include up to four years in prison, home confinement, probation or a fine.

Election 2024

Get the latest news on the 2024 election from our reporters on the campaign trail and in Washington.

Who is running?: President Biden and Donald Trump secured their parties’ nominations for the presidency . Here’s how we ended up with a Trump-Biden rematch .

Presidential debates: Biden and Trump agreed to a June 27 debate on CNN and a Sept. 10 debate broadcast by ABC News.

Key dates and events: From January to June, voters in all states and U.S. territories will pick their party’s nominee for president ahead of the summer conventions. Here are key dates and events on the 2024 election calendar .

Abortion and the election: Voters in about a dozen states could decide the fate of abortion rights with constitutional amendments on the ballot in a pivotal election year. Biden supports legal access to abortion , and he has encouraged Congress to pass a law that would codify abortion rights nationwide. After months of mixed signals about his position, Trump said the issue should be left to states . Here’s how Biden’s and Trump’s abortion stances have shifted over the years.

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FHFA House Price Index 2024Q1

U.S. House Prices Rise 6.6 Percent over the Last Year; Up 1.1 Percent from the Fourth Quarter of 2023

The Federal Housing Finance Agency (FHFA) is an independent agency established by the  Housing and Economic Recovery Act of 2008  (HERA) and is responsible for the effective supervision, regulation, and housing mission oversight of the  Federal National Mortgage Association (Fannie Mae), the Federal Home Loan Mortgage Corporation (Freddie Mac) , and the  Federal Home Loan Bank System , which includes the 11 Federal Home Loan Banks (FHLBanks) and the Office of Finance (OF). The Agency's mission is to ensure that Fannie Mae and Freddie Mac (the Enterprises) and the FHLBanks (together, "the regulated entities") fulfill their mission by operating in a safe and sound manner to serve as a reliable source of liquidity and funding for housing finance and community investment. Since 2008, FHFA has also served as conservator of Fannie Mae and Freddie Mac.

Learn More about FHFA

Latest News

News release.

Washington, D.C.  – The Federal Housing Finance Agency (FHFA) today announced that Fannie Mae and Freddie Mac (the Enterprises) will enhance their Flex Modification policies to allow more borrowers facing longer-term hardships to achieve meaningful payment reductions. The updated Flex Modification policies will promote sustainable homeownership and the safety and soundness of the Enterprises.  

​​​​Washington, D.C.  – U.S. house prices rose  6.6 percent  between the first quarter of 2023 and the first quarter of 2024, according to the Federal Housing Finance Agency (FHFA) House Price Index (FHFA HPI®). House prices were up  1.1 percent  compared to the fourth quarter of 2023. FHFA’s seasonally adjusted monthly index for March was up  0.1 percent  from February.

Washington, D.C.  – Today, the Federal Housing Finance Agency (FHFA) issued a Request for Input (RFI) on the mission of the Federal Home Loan Bank (FHLBank) System as the Agency considers next steps for related rulemakings.

Spotlight Topics

Climate Change and (ESG)

The Federal Housing Finance Agency (FHFA) recognizes that climate change poses a serious threat to the U.S. housing finance...

​Suspended Counterparty

FHFA established the Suspended Counterparty Program (SCP) to help address the risk to Fannie Mae, Freddie Mac, and...

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Rulemaking and Federal Register

Rulemaking is the process we use to create regulations. It is designed to ensure the public is informed of proposed rules, has the opportunity to comment on them, and have access to the rulemaking record.

Housing Market Indicators

Mirs transition index.

MIRS transition index  is intended to be used in lieu of the discontinued MIRS ARM Index for currently outstanding loans, and not as a reference rate on newly-originated adjustable-rate mortgages.  For further information, click  here . 

House Prices

Learn more about  FHFA House Price Index

The Best Nonfiction Books of 2024, So Far

Here’s what memoirs, histories, and essay collections we’re indulging in this spring.

Every item on this page was chosen by an ELLE editor. We may earn commission on some of the items you choose to buy.

Truth-swallowing can too often taste of forced medicine. Where the most successful nonfiction triumphs is in its ability to instruct, encourage, and demand without spoon-feeding. Getting to read and reward this year’s best nonfiction, then, is as much a treat as a lesson. I can’t pretend to be as intelligent, empathetic, self-knowledgeable, or even as well-read as many of the authors on this list. But appreciating the results of their labors is a more-than-sufficient consolation.

Filterworld: How Algorithms Flattened Culture by Kyle Chayka

There’s a lot to ponder in the latest project from New Yorker writer Kyle Chayka, who elegantly argues that algorithms have eroded—if not erased—the essential development of personal taste. As Chayka puts forth in Filterworld , the age of flawed-but-fulfilling human cultural curation has given way to the sanitization of Spotify’s so-called “Discover” playlists, or of Netflix’s Emily in Paris, or of subway tile and shiplap . There’s perhaps an old-school sanctimony to this criticism that some readers might chafe against. But there’s also a very real and alarming truth to Chayka’s insights, assembled alongside interviews and examples that span decades, mediums, and genres under the giant umbrella we call “culture.” Filterworld is the kind of book worth wrestling with, critiquing, and absorbing deeply—the antithesis of mindless consumption.

American Girls: One Woman's Journey Into the Islamic State and Her Sister's Fight to Bring Her Home by Jessica Roy

In 2019, former ELLE digital director Jessica Roy published a story about the Sally sisters , two American women who grew up in the same Jehovah’s Witness family and married a pair of brothers—but only one of those sisters ended up in Syria, her husband fighting on behalf of ISIS. American Girls , Roy’s nonfiction debut, expands upon that story of sibling love, sibling rivalry, abuse and extremism, adding reams of reporting to create a riveting tale that treats its subjects with true empathy while never flinching from the reality of their choices.

Leonor: The Story of a Lost Childhood by Paula Delgado-Kling

In this small but gutting work of memoir-meets-biography, Colombian journalist Paula Delgado-King chronicles two lives that intersect in violence: hers, and that of Leonor, a Colombian child solider who was beckoned into the guerilla Revolutionary Armed Forces of Colombia (FARC) only to endure years of death and abuse. Over the course of 19 years, Delgago-King followed Leonor through her recruitment into FARC; her sexual slavery to a man decades her senior; her eventual escape; and her rehabilitation. The author’s resulting account is visceral, a clear-eyed account of the utterly human impact wrought by war.

Madness: Race and Insanity in a Jim Crow Asylum by Antonia Hylton

A meticulous work of research and commitment, Antonia Hylton’s Madness takes readers deep inside the nearly century-old history of Maryland’s Crownsville State Hospital, one of the only segregated mental asylums with records—and a campus—that remain to this day. Featuring interviews with both former Crownsville staff and family members of those who lived there, Madness is a radically complex work of historical study, etching the intersections of race, mental health, criminal justice, public health, memory, and the essential quest for human dignity.

Come Together: The Science (and Art!) of Creating Lasting Sexual Connections by Emily Nagoski

Out January 30.

Emily Nagoski’s bestselling Come As You Are opened up a generations-wide conversation about women and their relationship with sex: why some love it, why some hate it, and why it can feel so impossible to find help or answers in either camp. In Come Together , Nagoski returns to the subject with a renewed focus on pleasure—and why it is ultimately so much more pivotal for long-term sexual relationships than spontaneity or frequency. This is not only an accessible, gentle-hearted guide to a still-taboo topic; it’s a fascinating exploration of how our most intimate connections can not just endure but thrive.

Everyone Who Is Gone Is Here: The United States, Central America, and the Making of a Crisis by Jonathan Blitzer

A remarkable volume—its 500-page length itself underscoring the author’s commitment to the complexity of the problem—Jonathan Blitzer’s Everyone Who Is Gone Is Here tracks the history of the migrant crisis at the U.S.-Mexico border through the intimate accounts of those who’ve lived it. In painstaking detail, Blitzer compiles the history of the U.S.’s involvement in Central America, and illustrates how foreign and immigration policies have irrevocably altered human lives—as well as tying them to one another. “Immigrants have a way of changing two places at once: their new homes and their old ones,” Blitzer writes. “Rather than cleaving apart the worlds of the U.S., El Salvador, Guatemala, and Honduras, the Americans were irrevocably binding them together.”

How to Live Free in a Dangerous World: A Decolonial Memoir by Shayla Lawson

Out February 6.

“I used to say taking a trip was just a coping mechanism,” writes Shayla Lawson in their travel-memoir-in-essays How to Live Free in a Dangerous World . “I know better now; it’s my way of mapping the Earth, so I know there’s something to come back to.” In stream-of-consciousness prose, the This Is Major author guides the reader through an enthralling journey across Zimbabwe, Japan, the Netherlands, France, Spain, Italy, Mexico, Bermuda, and beyond, using each location as the touchstone for their essays exploring how (and why) race, gender, grief, sexuality, beauty, and autonomy impact their experience of a land and its people. There’s a real courage and generosity to Lawson’s work; readers will find much here to embolden their own self-exploration.

Get the Picture: A Mind-Bending Journey Among the Inspired Artists and Obsessive Art Fiends Who Taught Me How to See by Bianca Bosker

There’s no end to the arguments for “why art matters,” but in our era of ephemeral imagery and mass-produced decor, there is enormous wisdom to be gleaned from Get the Picture , Bianca Bosker’s insider account of art-world infatuation. In this new work of nonfiction, readers have the pleasure of following the Cork Dork author as she embeds herself amongst the gallerists, collectors, painters, critics, and performers who fill today’s contemporary scene. There, they teach her (and us) what makes art art— and why that question’s worth asking in an increasingly fractured world.

Alphabetical Diaries by Sheila Heti

A profoundly unusual, experimental, yet engrossing work of not-quite-memoir, Sheila Heti’s Alphabetical Diaries is exactly what its title promises: The book comprises a decade of the author’s personal diaries, the sentences copied and pasted into alphabetical order. Each chapter begins with a new letter, all the accumulated sentences starting with “A”, then “B,” and so forth. The resulting effect is all but certain to repel some readers who crave a more linear storyline, but for those who can understand her ambition beyond the form, settling into the rhythm of Heti’s poetic observations gives way to a rich narrative reward.

Slow Noodles: A Cambodian Memoir of Love, Loss, and Family Recipes by Chantha Nguon

Out February 20.

“Even now, I can taste my own history,” writes Chantha Nguon in her gorgeous Slow Noodles . “One occupying force tried to erase it all.” In this deeply personal memoir, Nguon guides us through her life as a Cambodian refugee from the Khmer Rouge; her escapes to Vietnam and Thailand; the loss of all those she loved and held dear; and the foods that kept her heritage—and her story—ultimately intact. Interwoven with recipes and lists of ingredients, Nguon’s heart-rending writing reinforces the joy and agony of her core thesis: “The past never goes away.”

Splinters: Another Kind of Love Story by Leslie Jamison

The first time I stumbled upon a Leslie Jamison essay on (the platform formerly known as) Twitter, I was transfixed; I stayed in bed late into the morning as I clicked through her work, swallowing paragraphs like Skittles. But, of course, Jamison’s work is so much more satisfying than candy, and her new memoir, Splinters , is Jamison operating at the height of her talents. A tale of Jamison’s early motherhood and the end of her marriage, the book is unshrinking, nuanced, radiant, and so wondrously honest—a referendum on the splintered identities that complicate and comprise the artist, the wife, the mother, the woman.

The Great Wave: The Era of Radical Disruption and the Rise of the Outsider by Michiko Kakutani

The former chief book critic of the New York Times , Michiko Kakutani is not only an invaluable literary denizen, but also a brilliant observer of how politics and culture disrupt the mechanics of power and influence. In The Great Wave , she turns our attention toward global instability as epitomized by figures such as Donald Trump and watershed moments such as the creation of AI. In the midst of these numerous case studies, she argues for how our deeply interconnected world might better weather the competing crises that threaten to submerge us, should we not choose to better understand them.

Supercommunicators: How to Unlock the Secret Language of Connection by Charles Duhigg

From the author of the now-ubiquitous The Power of Habit arrives Supercommunicators , a head-first study of the tools that make conversations actually work . Charles Duhigg makes the case that every chat is really about one of three inquiries (“What’s this about?” “How do we feel?” or “Who are we?”) and knowing one from another is the key to real connection. Executives and professional-speaker types are sure to glom on to this sort of work, but my hope is that other, less business-oriented motives might be satisfied by the logic this volume imbues.

Whiskey Tender by Deborah Jackson Taffa

Out February 27.

“Tell me your favorite childhood memory, and I’ll tell you who you are,” or so writes Deborah Jackson Taffa in Whiskey Tender , her memoir of assimilation and separation as a mixed-tribe Native woman raised in the shadow of a specific portrait of the American Dream. As a descendant of the Quechan (Yuma) Nation and Laguna Pueblo tribe, Taffa illustrates her childhood in New Mexico while threading through the histories of her parents and grandparents, themselves forever altered by Indian boarding schools, government relocation, prison systems, and the “erasure of [our] own people.” Taffa’s is a story of immense and reverent heart, told with precise and pure skill.

Grief Is for People by Sloane Crosley

With its chapters organized by their position in the infamous five stages of grief, Sloane Crosley’s Grief is For People is at times bracingly funny, then abruptly sober. The effect is less like whiplash than recognition; anyone who has lost or grieved understands the way these emotions crash into each other without warning. Crosley makes excellent use of this reality in Grief is For People , as she weaves between two wrenching losses in her own life: the death of her dear friend Russell Perreault, and the robbery of her apartment. Crosley’s resulting story—short but powerful—is as difficult and precious and singular as grief itself.

American Negra by Natasha S. Alford

In American Negra , theGrio and CNN journalist Natasha S. Alford turns toward her own story, tracing the contours of her childhood in Syracuse, New York, as she came to understand the ways her Afro-Latino background built her—and set her apart. As the memoir follows Alford’s coming-of-age from Syracuse to Harvard University, then abroad and, later, across the U.S., the author highlights how she learned to embrace the cornerstones of intersectionality, in spite of her country’s many efforts to encourage the opposite.

The House of Hidden Meanings by RuPaul

Out March 5.

A raw and assured account by one of the most famous queer icons of our era, RuPaul’s memoir, The House of Hidden Meanings , promises readers arms-wide-open access to the drag queen before Drag Race . Detailing his childhood in California, his come-up in the drag scene, his own intimate love story, and his quest for living proudly in the face of unceasing condemnation, The House of Hidden Meanings is easily one of the most intriguing celebrity projects of the year.

Here After by Amy Lin

Here After reads like poetry: Its tiny, mere-sentences-long chapters only serve to strengthen its elegiac, ferocious impact. I was sobbing within minutes of opening this book. But I implore readers not to avoid the heavy subject matter; they will find in Amy Lin’s memoir such a profound and complex gift: the truth of her devotion to her husband, Kurtis, and the reality of her pain when he died suddenly, with neither platitudes nor hyperbole. This book is a little wonder—a clear, utterly courageous act of love.

Thunder Song by Sasha taqʷšəblu LaPointe

Red Paint author and poet Sasha taqʷšəblu LaPointe returns this spring with a rhythmic memoir-in-essays called Thunder Song , following the beats of her upbringing as a queer Coast Salish woman entrenched in communities—the punk and music scenes, in particular—that did not always reflect or respect her. Blending beautiful family history with her own personal memories, LaPointe’s writing is a ballad against amnesia, and a call to action for healing, for decolonization, for hope.

Lessons for Survival: Mothering Against "The Apocalypse" by Emily Raboteau

Out March 12.

In Emily Raboteau’s Lessons For Survival , the author (and novelist, essayist, professor, and street photographer) tells us her framework for the book is modeled loosely after one of her mother’s quilts: “pieced together out of love by a parent who wants her children to inherit a world where life is sustainable.” The essays that follow are meditations and reports on motherhood in the midst of compounding crises, whether climate change or war or racism or mental health. Through stories and photographs drawn from her own life and her studies abroad, Raboteau grounds the audience in the beauty—and resilience—of nature.

What to Read in 2024

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The Best Sci-Fi and Fantasy Reads of 2024

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Honor Levy Says ‘Goodnight Meme’