A cultural critic must absorb all of the particles of light that the internet and art bestows upon them. From writing articles for the New York Times on perfume to resplendent features on prominent figures in TV like Natasha Lyonne, musicians like Barbara Streisand, and literature in The New Yorker, Rachel Syme brings a vivid passion to writing about culture as it unfolds. 

I remember when I re-devoted myself to writing in early 2020 after a hiatus and vowed to transfigure my Twitter feed and to do that I followed several writers, like Hannah Seidlitz, Danielle Chelosky, and Celeste Ng. As a fresh New Yorker subscriber, I found that Rachel Syme’s articles glowed uniquely with their eloquent yet friendly rhythm. Her article on Hollywood memoirs “The Art of the Hollywood Memoir” so thoroughly described each one’s strange aura, from Rita Moreno to Carrie Fisher. She had lovingly read each one, even if it was a disaster. The joy radiated from the screen of my laptop in a way a paperback beams. It felt labored over as a latticed pie for a holiday. It was interactive, and each description of a memoir was suffused with a bright energy. It is a collection of small articles ribboned into one glorious piece of cultural criticism. 

On Ruth Gordon’s memoir Myself Among Others: 

“the book drops names without context, zooms between time periods, and often sounds less like memoir than like surrealist tone poetry. …bizarre ruminations (“Whitebait and oyster crab, stainless steel, celery tonic, spoon bread, hangnails, massage, licorice, funerals, these are a few of my unfavorite things”)… Most Hollywood memoirs are the work of ghostwriters. You can be sure that Gordon came up with every word of this strange book on her own.”

Her articles glimmer and her internet presence is a lightbeam. What one may deem miniature thoughts, conversational tidbits about culture, she broadcasts with a buoyant humor. She encourages interactivity with most tweets. During a work break I glided through my feed, and she announced that it is now Big Salad Season. 

Syme garners over 4,000 replies of colorful salads and suggestions, not only opening a portal of recipes for herself, but for the thousands of people who follow her. I discovered the possibility of rose petals in a salad. Quite revelatory. 

She has an effervescent appreciation for many little things in life. With a nearly encyclopedic knowledge about movies, books, and perfumes, her tweets often illuminate nifty things I would have never learned about if not for her. A recent fixation of hers is on Italian sodas, and she describes the sheer glamour she felt as a kid in the suburbs of Albuquerque walking around the mall, fruity drink in hand. She also posts often about her egg machine that perfectly cooks eggs to soft-boiled, and then her little silver cups that give cinematic verisimilitude to her city life. And they were from a dollar store.

Syme may not be one of The New Yorker‘s food writers, but with everything she writes, there is that studied passion of description behind it. The tweet as a small painting, pictured above. It is full of texture, scent, color, and ambience. Many New Yorker staff writers are older and less active on the internet. Syme blends the sophistication of a writer at the top level with an open, curious, bright personality on the internet that does not detract from her seriousness as a journalist. She wants to hear the responses of readers, asking if they can recommend her new TV shows or products. I recall purchasing a book light from her suggestions on Twitter. I use that oddly-shaped yet felicitous contraption every night to illuminate my books before bed. Syme is concerned with the delightful intricacies of home, such as a perfect desk, and in heeding her advice I have a rather dimly-lit room with violet string lights and warm bulbs in lamps. 

As a writer, perhaps it is important to take care of the space around you. The pod of solitude that one creates in order to write freely should be comfortable, although writing can happen anywhere. And breaking from that pod to reenter the world is simple with the internet. Rachel Syme harnesses the joys of social media to feed her features in The New Yorker. She may be a cultural critic, but I think of her as a cultural adorer.