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Chris Snow Finds That His Luck, Good and Bad, Is All in the Family

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Chris Snow Finds That His Luck, Good and Bad, Is All in the Family

CALGARY, Alberta — Luck is available in all disguises. For Chris Snow, an assistant common supervisor for the N.H.L.’s Calgary Flames, that is what fortunate seems to be like, for now:

He was residence on a Friday night time, on the sofa together with his spouse, Kelsie, and their kids: Cohen, 10, and Willa, 7. Somebody began a foolish sport — “slow-motion fights.” At molasses velocity, they traded pretend punches to the jaw and exaggerated grimaces. It was a bout of laughter.

Willa, gaptoothed like an old-time hockey goon, shrieked.

“What’s so humorous?” Kelsie requested.

“Daddy’s making faces,” Willa mentioned.

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“Daddy can’t make faces,” Kelsie mentioned.

No, Chris Snow can’t make faces. Not anymore. At 40, he additionally can’t make a pretend fist with one in every of his fingers, and he can’t eat with out a feeding tube.

However he’s right here, for now, and that feels just like the luckiest factor on the earth.

Three years in the past, Snow was in a exercise room on the Ritz Carlton in Denver in the course of the first spherical of the Stanley Cup playoffs when the three outer fingers of his proper hand immediately felt weak.

About six months earlier, a genetic pressure of amyotrophic lateral sclerosis, or A.L.S., killed Snow’s father, 9 months after prognosis. It additionally killed two uncles and a cousin.

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There was an anxious stream of appointments and assessments, however A.L.S. is identified solely on the finish of a means of eliminations. Perhaps a pinched nerve? No. Perhaps this, possibly that, possibly one thing else? No, no and no.

Two months of dwindling hopes ended when Snow was identified with A.L.S. in June 2019.

By then, his proper arm had noticeably degenerated. A.L.S. spreads quick. Snow was anticipated to reside not more than a yr.

Three years later, the Flames have had their greatest common season since 1989, once they final gained the Stanley Cup. They gained the Pacific Division and have visions of one other championship run.

The most important shock to Calgary’s postseason could be that Snow is right here to see it.

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He took a pretend punch from Willa, fell again and rolled his eyes again in his head.

“Daddy’s humorous,” Willa mentioned.

A.L.S. has not taken him. Not but.

How fortunate is that?

There are two broad classes of A.L.S., the degenerative and deadly illness generally related to Lou Gehrig, Stephen Hawking and the Ice Bucket Problem.

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About 90 % of circumstances are labeled as sporadic, showing to inflict folks randomly. About 10 % of A.L.S. circumstances are familial, brought on by a mutated gene. That’s what Snow has. Odds of passing it to the following technology are 50-50.

“We’ve misplaced numerous coin flips within the Snow household,” Kelsie mentioned.

Most A.L.S. tales are the identical, no matter origin. The illness spreads, limb to limb, atrophying them into paralysis. Talking, consuming and respiration grow to be more and more troublesome. Loss of life typically comes inside a few years of the primary signs.

One among Chris’s uncles died of A.L.S. in 2004, at age 48. One other died in 2013, at 52. That uncle’s son died in 2016 at age 28, 18 months after his prognosis.

Then A.L.S. got here for Chris’s father.

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“I used to be not scared till my dad was identified,” Chris mentioned. In 9 months, Bob Snow was gone at 68.

On the gut-punch day of June 10, 2019, when Chris’s prognosis was confirmed by a neurologist in Calgary, Chris and Kelsie melted in tears. However additionally they scrambled for solutions. They contacted a physician on the College of Miami, Michael Benatar, who studied the uncommon pressure of familial A.L.S. that Snow’s father had.

Per week later, the Snows left the youngsters with pals and went to Florida. Assessments probed Chris Snow’s physique and thoughts, analyzing his motor abilities, his lung capability, his reminiscence. The couple went to lunch on a dreary day. We want a miracle, they instructed one another.

The miracle arrived within the type of a “however.” Sure, you seem to have A.L.S. However chances are you’ll be eligible for a promising gene-therapy trial.

Chris was the winner of the bad-luck lottery, as Kelsie mentioned. He had the proper of A.L.S. — a mutation of the SOD1 gene, which impacts about 2 % of all A.L.S. sufferers. The trial was coming into its third section.

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May it cease the decline completely? The response stays etched in his thoughts: It isn’t exterior the realm of chance. Chris was enrolled.

Buoyed by the considered residing longer than a yr, possibly even residing for years, the Snows headed residence, collected their kids and went to Vancouver for the N.H.L. draft. They made plans for the very best summer season ever, believing — anticipating — it might be their final one as a household.

“That is the time of your life it’s a must to do every part collectively,” Snow mentioned.

The Flames have three assistant common managers, together with Craig Conroy, a former N.H.L. star. Snow’s major position is to supervise an complicated digital warehouse for knowledge and video, one thing he developed years in the past as hockey’s model of DiamondVision. Different N.H.L. groups adopted.

Lately, hundreds of information factors from every sport are collected from chips implanted in participant uniforms and the puck. Each conceivable statistic is rendered and linked to a corresponding video with one click on. Coaches, scouts and front-office personnel use this system to tell every part from power-play mixtures to contract negotiations. Snow has three full-time staff.

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Kelsie generally makes use of the film “Moneyball” as shorthand to clarify what Chris does for the Flames.

“The Jonah Hill character,” she clarified.

“Not Brad Pitt,” Chris mentioned.

“Positively not Brad Pitt,” Kelsie mentioned.

The 2 met in 2005. He was the assured younger beat reporter masking the Crimson Sox for the Boston Globe, his hometown paper. She was the paper’s summer season intern from South Dakota. Romance bloomed in Fenway Park’s press field.

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Chris quickly had profession choices. Sports activities Illustrated referred to as. However then Doug Risebrough, the final supervisor of the Minnesota Wild on the time, provided Chris a vaguely outlined front-office job. It was such an uncommon profession flip that Esquire wrote about it.

The couple moved to Minnesota, married in 2007, and Kelsie lined the Twins. However the Wild cleaned home after a couple of seasons and Chris landed as director of hockey evaluation in Calgary in 2011. The Snows moved with new child Cohen in tow.

By the point Snow was identified with A.L.S. the youngsters had been 7 and 4. He may not clench his proper hand. He couldn’t minimize meat or tie his sneakers. However he insisted on working. The Flames promoted him to assistant common supervisor.

“It’s identification,” he mentioned, sitting at his desk contained in the Saddledome, the place the Flames play. “It’s being a supplier. It’s dropping your self in one thing. And it’s displaying our children a mannequin of final resiliency.”

He paused. A household picture from Fenway Park hung behind him. All 4 Snows threw out first pitches there final fall.

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“Nevertheless this goes, and whether or not it ends or continues, our children will probably be so a lot better for it,” he mentioned.

Therapies with a gene remedy produced by Biogen referred to as Tofersen started in the summertime of 2019, delivered by spinal faucet each 4 weeks in Toronto. For the primary six months, Snow couldn’t make certain whether or not he was within the management group given a placebo. However virtually instantly, atrophy slowed.

The Snows dared to dream that possibly the illness had stalled. Perhaps Chris would merely reside life with out the usage of a proper arm.

“After all, we all know he’s residing with an sickness that, to date, nobody has survived,” Kelsie wrote for Sports activities Illustrated in early 2020, including: “I’ll push apart my concern of dropping him and be glad about one other day that Chris has merely, miraculously, stayed the identical.”

Then got here the day earlier than Easter in 2020. The household was sledding. Kelsie instructed Chris to smile for a photograph. No, a greater smile, she mentioned. He tried. His broad, toothy grin was crooked on one facet. Dread roared again.

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“When this occurred,” Chris mentioned, pointing to his face, “I used to be actually, actually scared.”

The decline was fast. His facial muscle mass atrophied; docs quickly discovered that even his eyelids had been weak. Swallowing grew to become troublesome, then practically inconceivable. His voice softened and his decrease lip drooped. His face froze right into a deadpan look.

Typically, one of many kids that Chris coaches in baseball and hockey will say to Cohen or Willa that their father seems to be offended. They shrug. He at all times seems to be that means, they reply.

“It’s actually onerous to point out emotion,” Chris mentioned. “Hardly ever does my voice do it, and by no means does my face do it.”

The coronavirus pandemic, with the large use of masks, has allowed Snow to cover his drooped mouth.

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“I nonetheless haven’t gotten over being self-conscious about my look,” he mentioned.

About six months after the primary signal of a crooked smile in April 2020, Snow wanted a feeding tube. It connects on to his abdomen, a couple of inches above and to the left of his stomach button.

The objective is 4,000 energy a day, to offset the anticipated weight reduction that comes with A.L.S. Some meals are store-bought system, like Isosource, poured into an IV-style bag and fed into him with gravity.

However Snow likes the concept of home made meals, even when he can’t style it. Kelsie makes meals, a mix of blended components — possibly oil, hemp hearts, milk and one thing like blueberries or spinach, measured and blended to a viscosity that may be fed by means of his abdomen tube with a syringe.

Lately, Snow can sip water, espresso, even the occasional vodka tonic by means of his mouth. He makes use of his floppy proper hand to carry his lips closed and sips from a cup held in his left.

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Choking is a continuing concern. Snow went on a Flames highway journey final fall, carrying containers of liquid meals. A late meal got here up within the night time, choking Snow and sending him to a Toronto hospital. A month later, at residence, one other choking episode woke up and terrified Cohen.

Snow takes anti-reflux treatment and sleeps propped up on a pillow wedge. For months, issues have steadied. He can nonetheless elevate his proper arm over his head, even do push-ups. His legs stay sturdy, as do his lungs — all optimistic indicators in A.L.S. sufferers.

“We’re at all times ready for the following shoe to drop,” Kelsie mentioned.

Chris nonetheless works day-after-day within the workplace, attending all residence video games. The Flames expanded his small workplace in order that it may match a sofa. Snow lies on it for conferences and calls as a result of his voice is clearer, extra full-throated, when he tilts his neck again.

He might be onerous to know, particularly within the din of a crowd. These near him are used to it, like understanding somebody with a thick accent.

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Snow subconsciously retains his left hand near his chin, pushing his hanging lip closed till gravity drops it open once more. When he speaks, he makes use of his left hand to assist transfer his decrease lip, virtually like a puppeteer, to assist with phrases that want closed lips for enunciation — like these with a lot of Ps, Ms and Bs.

Flames Normal Supervisor Brad Treliving admitted to a reflex to guard Snow, to lighten his workload, to make concessions. Snow notices when folks deal with him in a different way.

“I bear in mind him telling me, ‘I’m not useless,’” Treliving mentioned.

Snow recalled one thing his father instructed him: It’s not dying that scares him. It’s what comes earlier than that.

“I don’t spend a lot time, any time, pondering past at present and tomorrow,” Snow mentioned.

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That’s the Flames’ strategy, too. There isn’t a playbook for navigating the uncertainty. Decency is the rule.

“I roll with it,” Treliving mentioned. “We’re not naïve. However you see what he’s been in a position to do already, so my thoughts doesn’t go there. I simply don’t go there.”

It helps that the Snows do their greatest to lighten the darkness with humor.

“Individuals are at all times shocked at how good he seems to be,” Kelsie mentioned. “I inform him, they actually assume you have to be useless. The bar’s very low for you.”

Probably the most significant hockey video games could be within the basement, not the Saddledome. Chris performs goalie. He kneels, holding a miniature stick together with his left hand. Cohen peppers him with photographs of a squishy ball; Willa, on her dad’s staff, chases and tries to smack free balls right into a tiny objective throughout the expanse of soppy carpet.

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Chris offers the play-by-play. The youngsters push, argue, snigger, get sweaty. Chris stomach laughs his approval.

The battle — a battle — is reside for at present whereas getting ready for the long run.

“It’s a keep of execution, proper?” Kelsie mentioned. “You’re going to die. However possibly not. Or possibly not for a very long time.”

The questions vary from philosophical to sensible. Will Chris be capable of use the steps in a couple of months? His left hand has misplaced a touch of power, but it surely feels just like the decline has plateaued. Is that for now, or ceaselessly? What occurs if and when Chris is gone? The Snows attempt to ward off the what-ifs.

One uncertainty hangs heaviest: the genetic coin flip dealing with the youngsters. The Snows have tried to place that, too, out of thoughts, with their physician’s assist.

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“We’re going to treatment familial A.L.S. within the not-too-distant future,” mentioned Dr. Lorne Zinman, director of the A.L.S. Clinic at Sunnybrook Analysis Institute in Toronto, who enrolled Snow within the research and oversees his care. “And I inform Kelsie and different households, don’t worry about your youngsters. We’re going to get there by then.”

Final fall, the Tofersen trial ended with uneven outcomes — formally, it didn’t meet its targets, leaving its future approval unsure. However Snow will proceed the month-to-month infusions, believing that they’ve slowed the development and unfold of his A.L.S.

The Snows are snug placing a face on A.L.S., offering uncommon hope and actual discuss. Kelsie spent the early a part of the ordeal writing a weblog that has advanced right into a podcast referred to as, “Sorry, I’m Unhappy.” It principally highlights the tales of others.

“I discovered there have been lots of people who, once they heard a tragic story, wished an opportunity to inform their unhappy story — an area,” she mentioned. “I believed there must be extra areas for this.”

There are fleeting moments when issues really feel good. In March, the Snows had been sworn in as Canadian residents. Chris performs common video games of poker with pals on the again deck. Final week, the household went snowboarding and Chris carved perfect turns.

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Now there’s a staff dreaming of a Stanley Cup.

Earlier than the playoffs, whereas being fed by means of a tube, Chris mentioned how fortunate he was.

And on the entrance porch later, her household cocooned inside, Kelsie mentioned the identical factor.

“It’s loopy,” she mentioned, squinting into the nice and cozy and falling solar, “how your definition of luck modifications.”

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Book Review: ‘Hunger Like a Thirst,’ by Besha Rodell

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Book Review: ‘Hunger Like a Thirst,’ by Besha Rodell

HUNGER LIKE A THIRST: From Food Stamps to Fine Dining, a Restaurant Critic Finds Her Place at the Table, by Besha Rodell


Consider the food critic’s memoir. An author inevitably faces the threat of proportional imbalance: a glut of one (the tantalizing range of delicacies eaten) and want of the other (the nonprofessional life lived). And in this age of publicly documenting one’s every bite, it’s easier than ever to forget that to simply have dined, no matter how extravagantly, is not enough to make one interesting, or a story worth telling.

Fortunately, the life of Beshaleba River Puffin Rodell has been as unusual as her name. In fact, as she relays in the author’s note that opens “Hunger Like a Thirst,” a high school boyfriend believed she’d “made up her entire life story,” starting with her elaborate moniker.

Born in Australia on a farm called Narnia, she is the daughter of hippies. Her father, “a man of many lives and vocations,” was in his religious scholar phase, whence Beshaleba, an amalgamation of two Bible names, cometh.

Rodell’s mother returned to her native United States, with her children and new husband, when Besha was 14. Within the first 20-plus years of her life, she had bounced back and forth repeatedly between the two continents and, within the U.S., between multiple states. “‘I’m not from here’ is at the core of who I am,” she writes.

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It’s also at the core of her work as a restaurant critic, and what, she convincingly argues, distinguishes her writing from that of many contemporaries. She has the distanced perspective of a foreigner, but also lacks the privilege of her counterparts, who are often male and frequently moneyed. “For better or for worse, this is the life that I have,” she writes. “The one in which a lady who can’t pay her utility bills can nonetheless go eat a big steak and drink martinis.” This, she believes, is her advantage: “Dining out was never something I took for granted.”

It started back in Narnia on the ninth birthday of her childhood best friend, who invited Rodell to tag along at a celebratory dinner at the town’s fanciest restaurant. Rodell was struck, not by the food, but by “the mesmerizing, intense luxury of it all.” From then on, despite or perhaps because of the financial stress that remains a constant in her life, she became committed to chasing that particular brand of enchantment, “the specific opulence of a very good restaurant. I never connected this longing to the goal of attaining wealth; in fact, it was the pantomiming that appealed.”

To become a writer who gets poorly compensated to dine at those very good restaurants required working multiple jobs, including, in her early days, at restaurants, while simultaneously taking on unpaid labor as an intern and attending classes.

Things didn’t get much easier once Rodell became a full-time critic and she achieved the milestones associated with industry success. She took over for Atlanta’s most-read restaurant reviewer, then for the Pulitzer-winning Jonathan Gold at L.A. Weekly. She was nominated for multiple James Beard Awards and won one for an article on the legacy of the 40-ounce bottle of malt liquor.

After moving back to Australia with her husband and son, she was hired to review restaurants for The New York Times’s Australia bureau, before becoming the global dining critic for both Food & Wine and Travel & Leisure. Juxtaposed against the jet-setting and meals taken at the world’s most rarefied restaurants is her “real” life, the one where she can barely make rent or afford groceries.

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It turns out her outsider status has also left her well positioned to excavate the history of restaurant criticism and the role of those who have practiced it. She relays this with remarkable clarity and explains how it’s shaped her own work. (To illustrate how she’s put her own philosophy into practice, she includes examples of her writing.) It’s this analysis that renders Rodell’s book an essential read for anyone who’s interested in cultural criticism.

Packing all of the above into one book is a tall order, and if Rodell’s has a flaw, it’s in its structure. The moving parts can seem disjointed and, although the intention behind the structure is a meaningful one, the execution feels forced.

As she explains in her epilogue, she used the table of contents from Anthony Bourdain’s “Kitchen Confidential” as inspiration for her own. Titled “Tony,” the section is dedicated to him. But, however genuine the sentiment, to end on a man whose shadow looms so large detracts from her own story. (If anything, Rodell’s approach feels more aligned with the work of the Gen X feminist Liz Phair, whose lyric the book’s title borrows.)

It certainly shouldn’t deter anyone from reading it. Rodell’s memoir is a singular accomplishment. And if this publication were to hire her as a dining critic in New York, there would be no complaints from this reader.

HUNGER LIKE A THIRST: From Food Stamps to Fine Dining, a Restaurant Critic Finds Her Place at the Table | By Besha Rodell | Celadon | 272 pp. | $28.99

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Book Review: ‘Original Sin,’ by Jake Tapper and Alex Thompson

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Book Review: ‘Original Sin,’ by Jake Tapper and Alex Thompson

ORIGINAL SIN: President Biden’s Decline, Its Cover-Up, and His Disastrous Choice to Run Again, by Jake Tapper and Alex Thompson


In Christian theology, original sin begins with Adam and Eve eating the forbidden fruit from the tree of knowledge. But Jake Tapper and Alex Thompson’s “Original Sin” chronicles a different fall from grace. The cover image is a black-and-white portrait of Joe Biden with a pair of hands clamped over his eyes. The biblical story is about the danger of innocent curiosity; the story in this new book is about the danger of willful ignorance.

“The original sin of Election 2024 was Biden’s decision to run for re-election — followed by aggressive efforts to hide his cognitive diminishment,” Tapper and Thompson write. On the evening of June 27, 2024, Democratic voters watched the first presidential debate in amazement and horror: A red-faced Donald Trump let loose a barrage of audacious whoppers while Biden, slack-jawed and pale, struggled to string together intelligible rebuttals.

Trump’s debate performance was of a piece with his rallies, a jumble of nonsensical digressions and wild claims. But for many Americans, the extent of Biden’s frailty came as a shock. Most of the president’s appearances had, by then, become tightly controlled affairs. For at least a year and a half, Biden’s aides had been scrambling to accommodate an octogenarian president who was becoming increasingly exhausted and confused. According to “Original Sin,” which makes pointed use of the word “cover-up” in the subtitle, alarmed donors and pols who sought the lowdown on Biden’s cognitive state were kept in the dark. Others had daily evidence of Biden’s decline but didn’t want to believe it.

Tapper is an anchor for CNN (and also served as a moderator for the presidential debate); Thompson is a national political correspondent for Axios. In an authors’ note, they explain that they interviewed approximately 200 people, including high-level insiders, “some of whom may never acknowledge speaking to us but all of whom know the truth within these pages.”

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The result is a damning, step-by-step account of how the people closest to a stubborn, aging president enabled his quixotic resolve to run for a second term. The authors trace the deluge of trouble that flowed from Biden’s original sin: the sidelining of Vice President Kamala Harris; the attacks on journalists (like Thompson) who deigned to report on worries about Biden’s apparent fatigue and mental state; an American public lacking clear communication from the president and left to twist in the wind. “It was an abomination,” one source told the authors. “He stole an election from the Democratic Party; he stole it from the American people.”

This blistering charge is attributed to “a prominent Democratic strategist” who also “publicly defended Biden.” In “Original Sin,” the reasons given for saying nice things in public about the president are legion. Some Democrats, especially those who didn’t see the president that often, relied on his surrogates for reassurance about his condition (“He’s fine, he’s fine, he’s fine”); others were wary of giving ammunition to the Trump campaign, warning that he was an existential threat to the country. Tapper and Thompson are scornful of such rationales: “For those who tried to justify the behavior described here because of the threat of a second Trump term, those fears should have shocked them into reality, not away from it.”

Biden announced that he would be running for re-election in April 2023; he had turned 80 the previous November and was already the oldest president in history. Over his long life, he had been through a lot: the death of his wife and daughter in a car accident in 1972; two aneurysm surgeries in 1988; the death of his son Beau in 2015; the seemingly endless trouble kicked up by his son Hunter, a recovering addict whose legal troubles included being under investigation by the Justice Department.

Yet Biden always bounced back. The fact that he defied the naysayers and beat the odds to win the 2020 election was, for him and his close circle of family and advisers, a sign that he was special — and persistently underestimated. They maintained “a near-religious faith in Biden’s ability to rise again,” the authors write. “And as with any theology, skepticism was forbidden.”

In 2019, when Biden announced a presidential run, he was 76. It was still a time when “Good Biden was far more present than Old Biden.” By 2023, the authors suggest, that ratio had reversed. Some of his decline was hard to distinguish from what they call “the Bidenness,” which included his longtime reputation for gaffes, meandering stories and a habit of forgetting staffers’ names.

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But people who didn’t see Biden on a daily basis were increasingly taken aback when they finally laid eyes on him. They would remark on how his once booming voice had become a whisper, how his confident stride had become a shuffle. An aghast congressman recalls being reminded of his father, who had Alzheimer’s; another thought of his father, too, who died of Parkinson’s.

The people closest to Biden landed on some techniques to handle (or disguise) what was happening: restricting urgent business to the hours between 10 a.m. and 4 p.m.; instructing his writers to keep his speeches brief so that he didn’t have to spend too much time on his feet; having him use the short stairs to Air Force One. When making videos, his aides sometimes filmed “in slow motion to blur the reality of how slowly he actually walked.” By late 2023, his staff was pushing as much of his schedule as they could to midday.

When White House aides weren’t practicing fastidious stage management, they seemed to be sticking their heads in the sand. According to a forthcoming book by Josh Dawsey, Tyler Pager and Isaac Arnsdorf, Biden’s aides decided against his taking a cognitive test in early 2024. Tapper and Thompson quote a physician who served as a consultant to the White House Medical Unit for the last four administrations and expressed his dismay at the idea of withholding such information: “If there’s no diagnosis, there’s nothing to disclose.”

Just how much of this rigmarole was desperate rationalization versus deliberate scheming is never entirely clear. Tapper and Thompson identify two main groups that closed ranks around Biden: his family and a group of close aides known internally as “the Politburo” that included his longtime strategist Mike Donilon and his counselor Steve Ricchetti. The family encouraged Biden’s view of himself as a historic figure. The Politburo was too politically hard-nosed for that. Instead, its members pointed to Biden’s record in office and the competent people around him. The napping, the whispering, the shuffling — all that stuff had merely to do with the “performative” parts of the job.

Tapper and Thompson vehemently disagree. They offer a gracious portrait of Robert Hur, the special counsel who investigated Biden’s handling of classified materials and in his February 2024 report famously described the president as a “sympathetic, well-meaning, elderly man with a poor memory.” Biden and his team were incensed and tried “to slime Hur as an unprofessional right-wing hack,” but the authors defend his notorious line. They emphasize that it is incumbent upon a special counsel to spell out how the subject of an investigation would probably appear to a jury — and that what Hur wrote about Biden was true.

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Of course, in an election like 2024, when the differences between the candidates are so stark and the stakes are so high, nearly every scrap of information gets viewed through the lens of “Will it help my team win?” Even competently administered policy could not compensate for a woeful inability to communicate with the American people. In a democracy, this is a tragedy — especially if you believe, as Biden did, that a second Trump term would put the very existence of that democracy in peril.

Earlier this month, in what looks like an attempt to get ahead of the book’s publication, Biden went on “The View” to say that he accepts some responsibility for Trump’s victory: “I was in charge.” But he was dismissive about reports of any cognitive decline. In “Original Sin,” Tapper and Thompson describe him waking up the morning after the 2024 election thinking that if only he had stayed in the race, he would have won. “That’s what the polls suggested, he would say again and again,” the authors write. There was just one problem with his reasoning: “His pollsters told us that no such polls existed.”


ORIGINAL SIN: President Biden’s Decline, Its Cover-Up, and His Disastrous Choice to Run Again | By Jake Tapper and Alex Thompson | Penguin Press | 332 pp. | $32

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Book Review: ‘Death Is Our Business,’ by John Lechner; ‘Putin’s Sledgehammer,’ by Candace Rondeaux

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Book Review: ‘Death Is Our Business,’ by John Lechner; ‘Putin’s Sledgehammer,’ by Candace Rondeaux

Western complacency, meanwhile, stoked Russian imperial ambition. Though rich in resources, Rondeaux notes, Russia still relies on the rest of the world to fuel its war machine. Wagner’s operations in Africa burgeoned around the same time as their Syrian operation. In 2016, the French president François Hollande “semi-jokingly” suggested that the Central African Republic’s president go to the Russians for help putting down rebel groups. “We actually used Hollande’s statement,” Dmitri Syty, one of the brains behind Wagner’s operation there, tells Lechner.

“Death Is Our Business” provides powerful descriptions of the lives that were upended by the mercenary deployments. Wagner is accused of massacring hundreds of civilians in Mali in 2022, and of carrying out mass killings alongside local militias in the Central African Republic. “Their behavior mirrored the armed groups they ousted,” Lechner writes. As a Central African civil society activist whispers to Lechner, “Russia is no different” from the sub-Saharan country’s former colonial power, France.

Both books are particularly interesting when they turn their focus toward Europe and the United States. In Rondeaux’s words, the trans-Atlantic alliance does not “have a game plan for countering Russia’s growing influence across Africa.” Lechner, who was detained while reporting his book by officials from Mali’s pro-Russian government, is even more critical. He notes that, whatever Wagner produced profit-wise, the sum would have “paled in comparison to the $1 billion the E.U. paid Russia each month for oil and gas.”

And, while Wagner was an effective boogeyman, mercenaries of all stripes have proliferated across the map of this century’s conflicts, from the Democratic Republic of Congo to Yemen. “The West was happy to leverage Wagner as shorthand for all the evils of a war economy,” Lechner writes. “But the reality is that the world is filled with Prigozhins.”

Lechner is right. When Wagner fell, others rose in its stead, although they were kept on a tighter leash by Russian military intelligence. In Ukraine, prisoners are still being used in combat and Russia maintains a tight lid on its casualty figures. Even if the war in Ukraine ends soon, as President Trump has promised, Moscow’s mercenaries will still be at work dividing their African cake. Prigozhin may be dead, but his hammer is still a tool: It doesn’t matter if he’s around to swing it or not.

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DEATH IS OUR BUSINESS: Russian Mercenaries and the New Era of Private Warfare | By John Lechner | Bloomsbury | 261 pp. | $29.99

PUTIN’S SLEDGEHAMMER: The Wagner Group and Russia’s Collapse Into Mercenary Chaos | By Candace Rondeaux | PublicAffairs | 442 pp. | $32

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