Harper's has been selling my name and address again, I see.  Yesterday I received a direct marketing packet from Ode, a magazine started in Rotterdam in 1995, which its Editor-in-Chief, Jurriaan Kamp, says is what's "been giving Europeans some of their world-famed savvy and edge" ever since.  Now he wants to spread some of that around across the pond. I'm not sure it's really "savvy and edge" that America's Europhiles admire so much as Europe's wines, stinky cheeses, old movies, and universal health care.  Whatever the case, he's willing to throw in a FREE GIFT, so I'm there!  It's a CD...


"Touching The Earth — a gentle relaxation & meditation CD recorded by the internationally acclaimed Zen Buddhist master Thich Nhat Hanh that will bring new levels of peace and compassion to your life." Demonstrative of that European savvy and edge, as you can see. I mean, where's De Zangeres Zonder Naam? Where's Dadoo and Vitaa? How about a little Ramstein? A hidden track by Enya?  It wouldn't be Europe without Nena's 99 luftballoons. Come on guys, there's no need to shy away from that famous savvy and edge at the last minute!

I'm just ribbin' ya, Ode! Being from Europe is only part of what's so awesome about this magazine, according to this magazine.  The truth is, Thich Nhat Hanh, who is not European but Vietnamese, has made peace with the imperialists (he now lives in a monastery he founded in the Dordogne) and could easily be the poster-boy for just the brand of post-imperial entrepreneurship that Ode advocates as a solution to the world's most intractable troubles.  From his roots in French colonial Vietnam to his exile in the West where he has mastered the fine art of the religious franchise, he both appeals to the sense of Western imperialist guilt and provides the means to mollify it.

And that's what Ode is all about, and possibly why it can sometimes feel like emotional pornography flipping through its pages.  Readers are constantly urged to gaze upon the Wretched of the Earth and feel their pain...


And then they're encouraged to give themselves a big pat on the back for feeling it.  You felt sad.  Yay!  Go you!

The poor are never seen in distress.  That would be, erm, distressing.  And this is not National Geographic, after all, with its lurid lens seeking out the squalid.  In the pages of Ode the poor and dispossessed are always portrayed in a dignified light, photographed lushly in brilliant-colored frocks, clean and well-kempt, with peerless skin, and teeth intact.  All the better to smile back at you from the pages with (nothing will kill a feel-good buzz faster than bad teeth). (Oh, and don't worry.  About those pages: "ODE PLANTS TREES! to support reforestation and fight global warming for every subscription received.") 

Perusing the pages of Ode, it's as if you'd stepped into a elegant dinner party in a Cambridge townhouse, hosted by the dean of The Weatherhead Center.  Poverty is poignant, isn't it?  Mmm! The petite salmon lavosh is dee-lish. Just leave the tray, Pedro, and bring me another flute of champagne to wash it down!

As bad as the news may be, Ode is not about bad news.  "Let's leave pessimism for better times," is Ode's call to arms.  But should the nagging suspicion that squalor—or even litter—exists out there somewhere in a less photogenic form, in less biodegradable manifestations, Ode has the optimist's answer to that, too:


Feel the pain, then pop the pill, not vice-versa.  It's very important to get the order right.

In case you have any worries that partaking in the pain of others at a safe distance might be disturbing to your delicate equilibrium, even when they are looking so dignified and smiling so in their simple, cleverly constructed shanties, even after listening to the soothing sounds of Thich Nhat Hanh touching the earth on CD in your Prius on the way to Whole Foods to pick up some sushi before yoga class,  the vibrantly-colored sixteen-page mailing is festooned with impish monks and frolicking zen masters, a mock-chastising Bono, and a giggling Nelson Mandela to reassure you. 


Ah, the wonders of Botox! That's sort of what Ode is: Botox for the soul! Aside from which it is quite simply the best, most horrifyingly dead-on parody of latte liberalism money can buy, complete with Mohandas Gandhi as its pitchman and Sting's stamp of approval! 

So if you're looking for something for that latte liberal in your life, and you don't want to buy them yet another fair-trade fruit basket, consider Ode. 

And remember: if you didn't laugh, you'd cry.