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The Lost Art of Sentence Diagramming, Plus a Few Examples

This article was written by Lorraine Berry and originally appeared on Signature Reads.   Every now and then, my Facebook friends will have a nostalgia moment and post a cultural artifact from our cohort’s past. One television staple from the 1970s that we remember with affection was the educational videos that were shown as commercial breaks during Saturday morning cartoons. “Schoolhouse Rock” debuted in January 1973 on ABC. The first season was devoted to teaching children the basics of mathematics. The second season, which started in September of that year, took on the challenges of grammar, focusing much of its attention to the parsing of sentences. I admit that when I encounter certain words for parts of speech, I still hear the lyrics. And when I am copy editing, those song lyrics have actually helped me do my job. For example, “Interjections show excitement or emotion and are generally set apart from a sentence by an exclamation point, or by a comma when the feeling’s not as strong,” and “Conjunction junction: what’s your function? Hooking up words and phrases and clauses,” both set to memorable tunes, have saved me from bone-head errors. (Though not all, as my editors can affirm.) When “Constitution Rock” debuted two years later, it helped me to succeed in seventh-grade social studies. I still remember that the test asked us to write the words to the Preamble; I heard nearly everyone in class singing the song as we wrote the words.
I mention how valuable these learning tools were because another of my favorite ways of approaching language has been turned into a creative work of art. Call Me Ishmael is a collection of postcards that illustrate the opening lines from great works of literature through sentence diagrams. I loved those days in class that we spent diagramming sentences. And while sentence diagrams may have been declared as having “no educational value,” I would argue that they impressed on your memory how the different parts of speech operated in sentence construction. Sentence diagramming is a means by which a sentence is parsed and represented by a structure of lines that establish the relationship among the words in the sentence. Perhaps the best way to envision it is as a “map” of a sentence. In 1847, Stephen Watkins Clark published a book in which he showed a sentence map as a series of bubbles. His rendering looked inelegant, and in 1877, Reid and Kellogg changed the bubbles to a series of lines. (For a detailed history of the various types of sentence diagrams, go here.) The Reid-Kellogg system was adopted by school districts across the country and for decades afterward, schoolchildren were drilled on parts of speech through the construction of diagrams. To demonstrate how to diagram sentences, consider the following examples. (For further information on sentence diagramming, see these directions.) The beginning of a diagram is the straight line. The first objective is to establish the subject and the predicate, that is, who is doing the action and the action being performed. Draw a line between the noun and the verb, as I have done with this simple sentence comprising a noun and a verb.

Sergio Agüero scores.

On the left subject side is “Sergio Agüero.” On the right is “scores.”

The verb, to score, can act as an intransitive verb that needs no object to which to do the action, or it can function as a transitive verb, where the verb takes an object to which the action is done. So, if we change the sentence to “Sergio Agüero scores goals,” it can be diagrammed with the straight line, with a second vertical line placed after the verb. The direct object is on the same line as the noun and the verb. Diagrams become more complicated with the addition of words that modify other words in the sentence. Adjectives modify nouns, so in order to indicate an adjective that is modifying the subject, draw a diagonal line and write the adjective(s) on the diagonal line(s). Possessives act like adjectives and are indicated in the same way. On the predicate side, if adjectives are used to describe the direct object, draw diagonal lines to indicate those adjectives below that part of the diagram.

Manchester City’s brilliant Sergio Agüero scores many creative goals.

Here, “Manchester City” is the possessive. “Brilliant” is the adjective. And “goals” is the direct object of the verb, which itself is described by the two adjectives “many” and “creative.” When constructing sentences with direct objects, the item to which the action is being done may itself be affected by whether another person is also interacting with the object. For example, “You may give a gift to your friend,” in which “gift” is the direct object that is being given to “friend,” which functions as the indirect object. Thus the verb “to give” takes both a direct object and an indirect object. The indirect object would be shown on a sentence diagram by a diagonal line coming off the verb. Sometimes, rather than an indirect object, however, that action may be further modified through the use of a preposition. It is a modification of the verb. For example, in modifying this sentence, observe what the preposition is doing:

Manchester City’s brilliant Sergio Agüero scores many creative goals against other Premier League teams.

Here, the preposition “against” modifies the verb by indicating that the action is done to something, but it has an impact on the verb through what is called the “prepositional phrase.” To indicate a prepositional phrase, write a diagonal line off the verb with the word “against” on it. The object of the prepositional phrase is “teams,” and the adjectives that describe teams are the adjectives “Premier League” and “other.” Sentences can also contain more than one subject, or there can be more than one verb. I looked to literature for an example of a more complex sentence, one that I must admit took me a while to break down so that I understood how each word was functioning within this sentence from P.D. James’s The Children of Men

Western science and Western medicine haven’t prepared us for the magnitude and humiliation of this ultimate failure.

Here there are two subjects — Western science and Western medicine — and two objects of prepositions, which themselves have a prepositional phrase that modifies them. Consider this diagram of the way I parsed James’ sentence. To diagram this sentence, I used a dotted line to indicate the conjunction — “and” — that connects the two nouns. The verb is followed by a direct object. The prepositional phrase that begins with the preposition “for,” has a double object of the phrase with “the magnitude and the humiliation.” Again, a dotted line is used to indicate the conjunction. That prepositional phrase is itself modified by the prepositional phrase “of this ultimate failure,” which is diagrammed by drawing a diagonal line off the double object. Sentences can be further complicated with the addition of subordinate clauses, independent clauses that are connected with conjunctions or punctuation, or declarative sentences and multiple other examples where some part of the sentence is unspoken. And the more complex the sentence, the more complex and beautiful the diagram that maps the sentence. It’s why Call Me Ishmael’s collection of postcards, which contain the opening sentences from twenty-four great works of literature, make a great gift for language lovers. The sentences themselves are revered for the beauty of their construction, choice of words, and rhythm created when they are read out loud. Seeing them as multi-layered diagrams becomes another way to appreciate the geniuses behind the words.

There’s a Limit to Writing What You Know, and Here’s Why

This article was written by Elyssa Friedland and originally appeared on Signature Reads.

Lately I’ve been thinking about the difficult balance an author needs to strike between writing what we are familiar with, and therefore helping to unsure an authentic voice, and creating characters totally apart from ourselves in settings we may never have visited.

The former might seem easier and the safer route to go. “Write what you know;” it’s a familiar refrain and popular advice given to aspiring writers. But even that can be fraught with difficulty. In writing characters, places, and events from our own lives, we can all too easily fall into the trap of sharing too much detail. When setting a novel in New York City, where I live, it’s critical that I don’t mention every restaurant and boutique name that I frequent. When I find myself writing more of a guidebook to New York City than a novel, I ask myself: Is that extra detail propelling the story forward? If not, it should be cut. I certainly don’t want to limit the audience for my books to readers who live within a ten-mile radius of me looking for a great hat store. On the other hand, there is value in sharing the nooks and crannies of a setting we know intimately well. It is the ultimate way to invite the reader to join us in the pages. Reading fiction is nothing if not an escape, and the more specificity provided, the more easily a reader can Photoshop themselves into the novel and feel the humid air, taste the freshly picked tomato, and smell the lavender — whatever atmosphere the writer is trying to suck the reader into comes alive the more detail we give. A quick anecdote. In my latest novel, The Intermission, a critical scene takes place at a Chinese restaurant on First Avenue called Wa Jeal. This would be a case of providing too much in the minutia department. It didn’t matter that it was on First Avenue and it certainly didn’t matter what the restaurant was called. The only upshot of providing that detail were the numerous texts I got from local friends: Is Wa Jeal really good? What do you order there? Do they deliver? Yeah… you get the idea. Setting is not the only trap where writing what you know can lead to extraneous detail. Too often we as writers like to share experiences from our former professions — probably because we are scarred by them. There are a lot of lawyers-turned-writers and much as we may want to tell our readers about the gloom and doom of law firm life, from the tedious document review at three A.M. to the hours spent waiting in the printing office for four-hundred page contracts to be bound, we need to remember: there’s a reason we switched gears. Being a lawyer was boring! And so is writing about it. In The Intermission, I attempted to strike a nice balance between writing what I knew and writing what I wanted to know about. I refused to make either of my husband and wife pair attorneys. Instead, I made Jonathan a hedge funder — a world that is somewhat elusive to me but is prevalent in my hometown of New York City. For Cass, I decided to put her in the world of Broadway marketing. I love theater but knew very little about the behind-the-scenes making of a show. So I was able to bring my passion for the stage to the novel but also explain the mechanics of marketing a show in outsider-not-insider terms. Likewise with the plot. Half the novel is set in New York, but half the story is in Los Angeles. I’ve visited LA many times but don’t know it nearly as well as my hometown. Having a split-setting kept my overflow details in check. I needed to make sure LA came alive just as much as New York did in the book. Not overwriting what I know continues to be a struggle I face as a writer, but I’m certainly aware of the pitfalls. And I welcome reader feedback on the subject, as that is truly the test of whether I’m striking the proper balance. Photo by Kelly Sikkema on Unsplash

Staff Picks and Q&A about Read Ahead: Megan

Who better to give book recommendations than the bookish experts? Penguin Random House employees are sharing their favorite reads every month. Browse below! Megan, Assistant Editor, Audio Megan is the friend who’s reading a book when you show up to dinner and recommends no less than six others over the course of your meal. If you can’t find her in a book or at a restaurant, she’s likely listening to a podcast on her commute or up in the air en route to her next trip. Megan is also a member of Read Ahead’s Junior Board and has been a volunteer for four years. Read Ahead is a charitable organization that matches mentors with children to foster a love for reading and promotes literacy. Read below for Megan’s interview about her volunteer work! RA: What is the most rewarding part of volunteering with Read Ahead? MM: The most rewarding part of my experiences volunteering have been with my student, Yetzibeth. She brings so much excitement and enthusiasm to every kind of book that we read together. We’ve read books that range from Barbie princesses to non-fiction books about bees. It’s incredible to see her excitement grow with each session – she is just so imaginative. When we start to get into a book she really likes, she can’t wait to turn the page and see what’s next. I learn as much, if not more, from her than she does from me. RA: How has your relationship with her grown? MM: We understand each other more as we continue to get to know each other. We aren’t just reading together the whole time. When we first started she would come in and we would sit down and read together, but as we’ve gotten to know each other we’ve become a lot more comfortable, spending more time talking and learning about each other. RA: Is there a book you’ve read together that has been particularly successful? MM: She has such a range of interests – we’re always reading about something new. One book that she really loved was “The Day The Crayons Quit” by Drew Daywalt – it really is a great story and she was so excited by it.

Robert Jackson Bennett on Magic as a Form of Programming

This article was written by Robert Jackson Bennett and originally appeared on Unbound Worlds. One of the problems I had with magic as a young reader was that it was never clear how it worked. Despite whatever exposition or worldbuilding the author put me through, at the critical moment magic usually boiled down to a word, a gesture, the right ingredients, and the proper stance. Why this combination of disparate if not random elements satisfied the rules of the world to force reality to change was always a mystery to me. “Why did they have to prick themselves with a needle?” I would ask myself. “Why did they use an onion? Why a candle made of black tallow? Why were the ladies always either naked or wearing gauzy robes when they did magic, but men wore giant black cloaks?” I understood that the reason why magic worked is that… well, it’s magic. But often at some plot-critical point in the story, the magic would wind up not working, and this often flew in the face of what had been established before. Loopholes and exceptions abounded, seemingly invented on the fly. Magic wasn’t a system, it was just the fuel the author used whenever they needed to make the plot go. It was while I was staying at a rather drab and dreary hotel that I had the idea… what is magic, I thought, but a command? A direction? An order? If magic were real, I thought, it wouldn’t be some hidden mystery – it would be a series of instructions given to the world to make it be different, to distort reality into something it wasn’t. I complicated it further – what if it wasn’t instructions, but rather an argument? Reality, like any natural phenomena, wouldn’t want to change: it’d have gravity, momentum. It would have to be convinced, and magic would be the language you’d use to convince it to change. “So reality is stupid,” I thought. “You’d have to give it a very specific, detailed argument as to why it needed to be totally different. If you want to tell a ball to roll forward very fast like it was flying down a hill, you’d have to define what a ball was, what a hill was, and then what ‘fast’ meant.” And then I thought to myself, “Magic is just a way of programming reality like one might write code for an application.” And that blew the whole thing wide open in my mind. In the world of Foundryside, there are naturally occurring elemental sigils in the world, sigils for anything and everything: for water, heat, motion, gravity, for “stone” and “night” and “wind” and “flesh.” When you inscribe these sigils on an object, you change its reality, but only very slightly – if you write, say, the sigil for “clay” upon a stone, it becomes slightly, slightly softer… but not that much. Yet if you combine the sigils… if you put them together to make what is essentially a script that can be executed on command… then you can change much, much more. You’d just store the pre-written scripts in a bank of some kind – like a database, or lexicon – and whenever you needed to alter reality, you just called up the right script, and…. Abracadabra. Foundryside is a world very different from our own, but also very much alike: it is a world in which some very, very smart people have found a way to write code to change reality, thus making themselves and their culture massively powerful almost overnight, creating an industrialized city of corporate espionage, reality-altering magic code, obscenely wealthy tycoons, and ancient secrets. It is a world in which someone figured out how magic works. And such a world, it turns out, can be very nasty indeed.

Staff Picks: Casey Blue

Who better to give book recommendations than the bookish experts? Penguin Random House employees are sharing their favorite reads every month. Browse below!   Casey Blue, Senior Manager, Business Development Casey Blue is a proud nerd who loves doling out book recommendations as much as she loves reading. When she’s not doing one of those things, she’s either running, cooking, on the beach, or in a museum.

Congratulations to Our 2018 Man Booker Prize Longlisters

The Man Booker Prize is one of the most influential annual international literary fiction honors, open to writers of any nationality, writing in English. Congratulations to these six books published by Penguin Random House for making the longlist! The longlist includes 13 total titles published in the UK and Ireland between October 1, 2017 and September 30, 2018.   Learn more about our six books in the running:  

My Brothers, My D&D Campaign, My Graphic Novel, and Me

This article was written by Jaime Green and originally appeared on Unbound Worlds. Almost four years ago, Justin McElroy was about to become a father. He knew he’d need at least a few weeks of paternity leave from the comedy/advice podcast he makes with his brothers, My Brother, My Brother, and Me, but the McElroys didn’t want to leave their listeners in the lurch. So, as a lark, they recorded a couple of hours of themselves playing Dungeons and Dragons with their dad. Griffin, the youngest brother, DMed [editor’s note for the uninitiated: a DM is a Dungeon Master, the game organizer for a Dungeons and Dragons ongoing game, or campaign]. But they didn’t just play for a few hours—what began as a paternity leave place-holder soon became its own podcast, The Adventure Zone, and eventually evolved into something bigger and more powerful than any of the McElroys imagined. Justin has previously described the experience as thinking you’re driving a car and then discovering the car has wings. The Adventure Zone never lost its initial goofiness, but as Griffin quickly moved away from a pre-made Dungeons and Dragons quest and into crafting his own adventures, the world developed a rich mythology—and a compelling overarching story for the three adventurers to discover, play out, and shape. That first massive storyline, called Balance, wrapped up last August, and the show is now about a dozen episodes into its second story, Amnesty, set in present-day West Virginia (the McElroys’ home state), where a small town is shaped by its proximity to a gateway to a mystical world. Now, the winged car is metamorphosing again, into a graphic novel co-authored by the McElroys and illustrator Carey Pietsch. It covers the first chapter of the Balance arc, called Here There Be Gerblins, maintaining the D&D set-up by making Griffin, as game-master, a meta-character in the story as well. I spoke to Justin, Griffin, and Carey about adapting a podcast into a graphic novel, their relationship with fans, and the story behind the podcast’s most shocking moment. Jaime: What were the logistics of this adaptation? There are five of you and you all have very busy lives, many jobs, and podcasts, and that’s a lot of cooks in the kitchen. How did you go from this audio record of a D&D game to a graphic novel? Griffin: Dad has a background in comics, so he spearheaded the script drafting process. After he would finish, we would go over some changes. Then the rest of the creative team would go over some changes. Then we’d have a new draft of the graphic novel. Then it would go through another. Each time that we knocked out some things that we felt didn’t make for a very good graphic novel, we would read through another draft and then find more of them. There’s a lot of table talk, or out-of-character humor, or jokes that only work if you can hear them. There aren’t drastic story changes, but we did change some things, especially since this first arc in the podcast is fairly light in terms of overarching themes and world development and the plot of what the story turned into. Jaime: When you were making those changes, from the podcast to the graphic novel, did you have an eye on making it accessible or inviting for readers who haven’t listened to the podcast? Justin: Yeah—it’s an easier ask. [The podcast] is a long commitment just to see if you like something or not. We’re talking six or seven hours just in the first arc. I really like that now you can get into the story in just however long it takes to read the graphic novel. Jaime: Carey, how did you get involved with The Adventure Zone? Carey: I started out, back in 2015, drawing fan art when I was listening to the show as a way to keep myself happy and engaged while working on a whole bunch of other freelance projects. I was so struck by the charm and joy evident in it. It made me want to try to figure out how it could look in a visual setting. I got to know a bunch of the fan community and chat with the McElroys a little bit when I co-ran The Adventure Zine [a collection of fan art of the show, the proceeds of which went to charity] with Megan Raley a year or so after that. Jaime: What was it like shifting from a fan to a collaborator? Carey: I’ve had to take a step back from being as active in fan communities, mostly because I’ve gone from “Oh, this is a fun thing that I can spend some free time on” to “All of my time is working on this book.” I’ve also tried to be mindful the fact that the McElroys have talked a lot about how important all the various visual interpretations of the podcast characters are. So the graphic novel canon can be the graphic novel canon, which is something we all developed together through collaboratively talking about what we want these characters in this world to look like, in this particular graphic novel interpretation. Jaime: Do you all see this as a separate canon from the podcast story? Griffin: Yeah. We feel very strongly the canon of the podcast is only within the podcast. So this is one visual representation of what the world looks like. One thing that was important to us for the podcast is that there is such a huge array of interpretations of the world and the characters, and we didn’t want to shut that down by saying, “No. This is actually what it is. This is actually what it looks like.” Jaime: As the Balance arc went on and as you moved from working out of a D&D campaign into crafting this whole epic story yourself, you had a different kind of authorial hand in this from the players as the DM. Did working on the graphic novel feel like a shift in authorship? Griffin: I was not hesitant to sort of give up the reins. I hadn’t solely had the reins of the podcast, because things would change based on the decisions that Justin and Travis and Dad made and how the dice played out. The bigger change had to do with understanding what makes something good for a graphic novel, what things work visually. That was entirely Carey’s work and it was one of the best things for us, getting new drafts of the art and seeing visual gags of things that happened on the podcast. Jaime: Carey, what was it like coming into this collaborative group? Not only are you working with a family, but you’re working with people who’ve been making podcasts and videos together for a really long time. Carey: It feels really lucky that this was a real collaboration. Despite the fact that the McElroys have so much else that they’re juggling, they really were dedicated to bringing their full knowledge of this story and care for these characters to the table and really sitting down not just at the start of the script, but checking back in at thumbnails, at pencils, at inks and colors, to really make sure that the book was shaping up to be something that the entire team could be proud of. The whole team was really generous about letting me contribute to things about pacing on the page and timing and adding some room for things to breathe. Justin: I think that we’re also at an advantage over other creators who might be adapting something, where if we’d [originally] written this entire thing down word for word, then we would have chosen everything very carefully. We would have been very deliberate. But I think about what we put in the podcast, and we were just creating in the moment. So [when it came to adapting it for the graphic novel], we were precious about some character-related stuff, but in large we were probably more willing than a lot of creators would be to go like, “If it doesn’t work, cut it. I came up with that in ten seconds.” Jaime: On the podcast, you’ve moved into the next big story of The Adventure Zone. But Balance is still a big part of your lives, in live shows and the graphic novel. People are still making fan art and cosplaying. What does that feel like, for that first story to still be so big? Justin: I vacillate. The overriding thing I feel is gratitude. The idea that we created something that means something to a lot of people will always be very precious to me. But there is a side of me that does feel like, “I hope we didn’t make just one thing that people really like, and they still like other stuff that we make as well.” But that’s my crappy human vanity. You hate to think that you peaked with the very first swing at something. But even if we never approach the level of passion that we have gotten from Balance, I will still consider the entire venture a success just because the it’s been so lovely that so many people brought that story into their hearts. You can’t really ask for more. Griffin: When we decided to wrap up Balance and move on to a completely new story, we were straight-up terrified of leaving the world behind. We all knew that it was time to do it—it was important to all of us to have a conclusion for that story and not just let it go on and on—but we were, I think understandably, afraid that we would not be able to ever capture that again. I do feel like Amnesty, the story that we’re telling now, is growing. I’ve seen some cosplay of Amnesty characters at cons and at live shows, which is very exciting. This campaign is still finding its footing a little bit, but the investment is there from all of us in this world. We’re excited to see where it goes, because we saw the same transformation happen when we did Balance. Jaime: My last question is for Justin. [Apologies to anyone reading this who hasn’t listened to Balance. And: podcast spoilers ahead.] How far in advance did you plan the buying of the Flaming Poisoning Raging Sword Of Doom? Justin: About 30 seconds. Jaime: You are fucking kidding me. Seriously? Justin: If you go back and listen to the audio, Griffin told us that The Slicer of T’pire Weir Isles existed in that episode. So it was— Jaime: But didn’t Griffin used to send you guys a list of the Fantasy Costco items so you could plan your purchases? You really decided while you were recording? Justin: Yeah, Griffin sent us a lot of things. And I’m a very busy man. I have a lot of kids and a lot of email and I don’t always have the time. So yeah, it was formulated in the moment. And I wish more people knew just how impressive I am in ways like that. Thank you so much for giving me the opportunity to talk about it, because you’d be shocked how rarely the interviews pivot into like the craftiness and innovation, the wit, the emotion. I want history to make sure that they’ve noted my genius, I guess.
All images © Macmillan

Staff Picks and Volunteer Spotlight: Ron

Who better to give book recommendations than the bookish experts? Penguin Random House employees are sharing their favorite reads every month. Browse below! Today, we spotlight Ron, who works as Retail Chain Manager for Adult Mass Merchandising. He also volunteers for Camp Kowakan and has kindly shared some of his experience. Learn more about Ron’s service time by reading his story below: Just over 1 million acres – – 1,090,000 to be specific.  So many lakes it’s almost as if they had help from Dr. Seuss in naming them – – there really is a Lake One, Lake Two, Lake Three and Lake Four.  That’s the Boundary Waters Canoe Area Wilderness. (BWCA) There’s no other place like it on earth and its located in Northern Minnesota.  Since about 2004 I’ve been on the leadership team for a wilderness canoe base called Camp Kowakan. To keep it a wilderness experience, the U.S. Forest Service limits groups to nine including a guide and chaperone. We ask them to leave behind smart phones and take off watches – – they won’t be needed.  We teach them to live with the natural rhythm of life: eat when you’re hungry; sleep when you are tired; get up when it feels right, or when the canoe guide rousts you.  Group members learn teamwork and leadership skills, along with the rigors of life on the trail while, hopefully, seeing the beauty surrounding them. The resulting experience isn’t for everyone, but you’d be surprised at how many kids take to it. My next trip is in August.  All of the kids have gone on trips with me before and for two of them this will be their fourth time.  I always tell the kids that my job is to keep them safe and theirs is to make sure we have fun.  They are good at that.  I try.

Michael Ondaatje’s THE ENGLISH PATIENT Wins the Golden Man Booker Prize

Penguin Random House author Michael Ondaatje has won the Golden Man Booker Prize for his classic novel THE ENGLISH PATIENT.  This one-time prize was awarded for the best work of fiction from the last five decades of The Man Booker Prize, one of the world’s most prestigious annual fiction awards, as chosen by five judges, and then voted on by the public.  Upon receiving the news, Mr. Ondaatje said, “I am honored as well as very surprised to receive this award for THE ENGLISH PATIENT, as I was to be in the company of the other remarkable nominees. It feels the book was written so long ago! I would like to thank all who have supported me and been involved in my work over the years.”

Ondaatje, published by Alfred A. Knopf, Vintage and Everyman’s Library in the U.S., and McClelland & Stewart in Canada, has written several award-winning novels, as well as a memoir, a nonfiction book on film, and several books of poetry. His latest novel, WARLIGHT, was published earlier this year by Alfred A. Knopf in the U.S. and McClelland & Stewart in Canada.  Born in Sri Lanka, Ondaatje currently lives in Toronto. Read his works here.

Staff Picks: Natasha

Who better to give book recommendations than the bookish experts? Penguin Random House employees are sharing their favorite reads every month. Browse below! Natasha, Associate Manager, Consumer Engagement Natasha is a social media person by day and reader by night. She enjoys books that will either inspire her or make her cry — there’s really no in-between. You can probably find her at a bagel store or taking photos of brownstones in Brooklyn.  
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