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Welcome back to The Daily’s Sunday culture edition, in which one Atlantic writer or editor reveals what’s keeping them entertained. Today’s special guest is Rosie Hughes, a producer who works on the Radio Atlantic podcast.
Rosie can be found rewatching Search Party, which introduced her to the genius of John Early; replaying the funniest scenes from Stath Lets Flats; or starting a new round of online solitaire to avoid scrolling on her phone.
— Stephanie Bai, senior associate editor
The last thing that made me snort with laughter: There was something seriously wrong with Jamie Demetriou’s mind when he created the British comedy series Stath Lets Flats—but whatever happened to him really works for me. Demetriou plays a bumbling Greek Cypriot bro named Stath who “works” (he is not good at his job) for his father’s property-rental company. The bits in this show are absolutely relentless. Stath and his sister, Sophie (played by Demetriou’s actual sister, Natasia Demetriou), speak in what I, as an American, can only assume is a bastardized North London accent mangled by grammar so poor that you can’t help but laugh at every line. Stath can be a bit overwhelming: too many things to laugh at, not enough time to process them all. The show’s pacing is quick—it’s a fire hose of absurd dialogue and bizarre situations. For maximum enjoyment, I like to watch it with the TV remote in hand so I can easily rewind and replay the same scene multiple times.
The last thing that made me cry: On a recent flight home from Italy, I finally watched Danny Boyle and Alex Garland’s zombie threequel, 28 Years Later—and I didn’t just cry; I wept. Like, I had to pause the movie and ask the person in the aisle seat (my husband, fortunately) to let me out so I could stumble to the bathroom and clean up my snot and tears.
I’m a fan of the zombie-apocalypse genre, but I’m also a wimp, so I save scary movies for long plane rides where I don’t have to worry about monsters under my bed. 28 Years Later isn’t just a movie about fleeing from the walking (or running!) dead, though there are plenty of thrillingly disgusting action sequences. It’s a story about the love between a mother and her child, played masterfully by Jodie Comer and Alfie Williams. As the child matures and faces the world, the mother is quickly fading from it because of a mysterious illness. Both must take on the role of protector for the other, quietly trading the responsibility back and forth in ways that seem imperceptible to the characters themselves. I won’t spoil the ending, but be warned: Bring tissues. [Related: A stunning reinvention of the zombie film]
A quiet song that I love, and a loud song that I love: A quiet song that I love is “Zombie Girl,” by Adrianne Lenker (two zombie references in one listicle!). A loud song that I love is “Your Best American Girl,” by Mitski. [Related: The dangerous desires in Mitski’s songs]
My favorite way of wasting time on my phone: I am trying so hard to not be addicted to social media, which is why I do something much healthier and definitely not habit-forming at all: play online solitaire. If I’m not scrolling through an endless stream of algorithmically curated ads disguised as original content, that means I’m still in control, right?
Something I recently revisited: I’m rewatching the first season of Search Party, which debuted in 2016. The writing is clever and original, and the cast members have real chemistry. It’s also the show that introduced me to John Early, who I believe is one of the funniest comedians in the biz right now. Early plays the most despicable and narcissistic compulsive liar, a man who is willing to do anything and screw anyone for fame and fortune. He’s awful, and I love him.
The upcoming event I’m most looking forward to: I have tickets to see the much-hyped revival of Death of a Salesman on Broadway late next month. I’ve heard nothing but phenomenal reviews so far, and my brother even praised it as life-changing. My expectations are impossibly high, but knowing the play and the cast, I think they just might be met.
The best novel I’ve recently read, and the best work of nonfiction: The novel I recommend to everyone, even if you don’t like science fiction, is Children of Time, by Adrian Tchaikovsky. It tells two stories at once: of the last remaining humans fleeing Earth in search of a new planet to call home, and of a distant Earth-like planet inhabited by superintelligent spiders. I know what you’re thinking, and to be clear, I don’t like spiders either. But this book is about so much more than just that. Tchaikovsky’s world-building is complex without being tedious, and the story he weaves is unique—it changed how I think about civilization, language, survival, the fallibility of humans, and, yes, spiders.
My favorite work of nonfiction is The Best Minds: A Story of Friendship, Madness, and the Tragedy of Good Intentions, by Jonathan Rosen. It’s a book that somehow manages to be part memoir, part history lesson, and part policy critique, with just a dash of true crime. Rosen writes beautifully about growing up with Michael Laudor, his childhood friend who made headlines twice in the 1990s: first for attending Yale Law School as a schizophrenic, and second for murdering his pregnant fiancée a few years later. While reading the book, I often found myself staring at the author’s headshot on the back flap and wondering, Is Jonathan Rosen okay?
A piece of art that I cherish: My sister-in-law gave me a vintage, ceramic Paddington Bear tree ornament for Christmas last year. If my house was burning down, that little Paddington would be the one thing I’d save from the blaze. Passports and diplomas are replaceable, but ornament Paddington is not.
The Week Ahead
- Toy Story 5, a movie about a fight between Woody and Buzz over kids’ growing attachment to screens (in theaters Friday)
- Season 3 of House of the Dragon, a show about the Targaryen civil war (out Sunday on HBO)
- The Emilys, a novel by Heather Abel about a New England town gripped by a mysterious condition that prevents people from going outside during the day (out Tuesday)
Essay
The Unglamorous Truth About the Average Tradwife
By Faith Hill
Can you remember the first time you heard about “tradwives”? I can’t, and yet I have the vague feeling that at some point a handful of years ago, all at once, the term became inescapable. On phone screens across the United States, beautiful women with glossy hair seemed to materialize en masse, flipping sizzling patties of meat and rocking impossibly calm babies. Conservative commentators embraced them as evidence that women want to stay home. Critics called them agents of a regressive right-wing agenda.
Now, in 2026, Americans seem just as captivated. This spring, Caro Claire Burke released her debut novel, Yesteryear, which follows a modern-day tradwife influencer who wakes up in 1855 and has to face what “traditional” life really looks like …
The truth, though, is that the tradwife—as symbol, TikTok genre, source of fascination, and wedge in America’s culture war—doesn’t easily map onto a real-life category of person.
More in Culture
- Off Campus is driving women wild. Why?
- Obama’s and Trump’s presidential centers have one thing in common.
- An alien movie for a post-truth moment
- The Americans shelling out five figures for a coat of arms
- The “Battle Hymn” can’t be ignored.
- The two kinds of American patriotism
Catch Up on The Atlantic
- Inside America’s ugly birthday battle
- Trump isn’t giving up on his slush fund.
- Being Black in Pete Hegseth’s military
Photo Album
Explore a collection of images of wildlife, shorelines, and communities around the North Pacific.
Rafaela Jinich contributed to this newsletter.
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