Tatiana Schlossberg, granddaughter of slain President John F. Kennedy, is battling a rare form of leukemia and may have less than a year to live.
In an essay published Saturday in the New Yorker, the 35-year-old environmental journalist wrote her illness was discovered in May 2024 after she gave birth to her daughter. She was diagnosed with acute myeloid leukemia with a rare mutation known as Inversion 3 and has undergone several treatments, including chemotherapy and bone marrow transplants.
In her essay, Schlossberg acknowledged that her terminal illness adds to a string of tragedies that has befallen the famous political family. Her grandfather was assassinated in Dallas in 1963. Nearly five years later, his brother, Sen. Robert F. Kennedy, was fatally shot in Los Angeles after giving a victory speech at the Ambassador Hotel following his California presidential primary win. Her uncle, John F. Kennedy Jr., died in 1999 when his small plane crashed.
“For my whole life, I have tried to be good, to be a good student and a good sister and a good daughter, and to protect my mother and never make her upset or angry,” Schlossberg wrote.
“Now I have added a new tragedy to her life, to our family’s life, and there’s nothing I can do to stop it.”
She wrote her diagnosis was stunning. She had just turned 34, didn’t feel sick and was physically active, including swimming a mile one day before she gave birth to her second child at Columbia-Presbyterian hospital in New York.
After the delivery, her doctor became alarmed by her high white blood cell count.
At first, medical professionals figured the test result might be tied to her pregnancy. However, doctors soon concluded she had myeloid leukemia, a condition mostly observed in older patients. She ended up spending weeks in the hospital.
“Every doctor I saw asked me if I had spent a lot of time at Ground Zero, given how common blood cancers are among first responders,” Schlossberg wrote. “I was in New York on 9/11, in the sixth grade, but I didn’t visit the site until years later.”
She has endured various treatments. Her older sister, Rose, was one of her bone marrow donors.
In the article, Schlossberg mentioned the Kennedy family’s dilemma over controversial positions taken by Robert F. Kennedy Jr., her mother’s cousin. Schlossberg wrote that while she was in the hospital in mid-2024, Kennedy suspended his long-shot campaign for president to throw his weight behind then-Republican candidate President Trump.
Trump went on to name Kennedy to his Cabinet as secretary of the U.S. Dept. of Health and Human Services, which oversees the Food and Drug Administration, National Institutes of Health and the Centers for Disease Control and Prevention.
In one of his early moves, Trump demanded a cut in government money to Columbia University, which employs her husband, George Moran.
“Doctors and scientists at Columbia, including George, didn’t know if they would be able to continue their research, or even have jobs,” she wrote. “Suddenly, the health-care system on which I relied felt strained, shaky.”
On Saturday, her brother Jack Schlossberg, who recently announced his bid for Congress in a New York district, shared on Instagram a link to her New Yorker essay, “A Battle with My Blood.”
It’s election night in Robert Icke’s “Oedipus,” a modern retelling of Sophocles’ “Oedipus the King” that must be the buzziest, if not the chicest, Broadway offering of the fall season.
The production, a prestigious London import that opened at Studio 54 on Thursday under Icke’s smart and sleek direction, stars a charismatic Mark Strong in the title role. His elegant and urbane Oedipus, a politician on the cusp of a momentous victory, prides himself on not playing by the old rules. A straight talker who has made transparency his calling card, he frequently veers off script in paroxysms of candor, to the chagrin of Creon (John Carroll Lynch), his brother-in-law who has been steering the campaign to what looks like a landslide victory.
But “count no mortal happy till / he has passed the final limit of his life secure from pain,” as the chorus intones at the end of Sophocles’ tragedy. There is no chorus in Icke’s version, but the sentiment holds, as Oedipus unravels the puzzle of his identity with the same relentlessness that has brought him to the brink of electoral triumph.
Anne Reid, left, and Olivia Reis in “Oedipus.”
(Julieta Cervantes)
A birther conspiracy has been raised by his political opponent, and Oedipus, speaking impromptu to reporters on-screen at the start of the play, promises to release his birth certificate and put an end to the controversy. What’s more, he vows to reopen an investigation into the death of Laius, the former leader who died 34 years ago under circumstances that have allowed rumor and innuendo to fester.
Oedipus calls himself Laius’ “successor, the inheritor of his legacy,” and in true Sophoclean fashion he speaks more than he knows. Jocasta (Lesley Manville in top form), Oedipus’ wife, was married to Laius, and so Oedipus is occupying his predecessor’s place in more ways than one.
In Sophocles’ play, Oedipus confronts a plague that has been laying waste to Thebes. In Icke’s drama, which had its premiere in Amsterdam in 2018, the pathogen is political. The civic body has fallen ill. Oedipus sees himself as an answer to the demagogic manipulation that has wrought havoc. The water is poisoned, economic inequality is out of control and immigrants have become an easy target. Sound familiar?
Icke’s Oedipus has an Obama-level of confidence in reason and reasonableness. His direct, pragmatic approach has seduced voters, but has it deluded him into thinking that he has all the answers? Oedipus is an ingenious problem solver. Puzzles entice his keen intellect, but he will have to learn the difference between a paradox and a riddle.
Mark Strong, left, and Samuel Brewer in “Oedipus.”
(Julieta Cervantes)
His daughter, Antigone (Olivia Reis), a scholar who has returned for her father’s big night, ventures to make the distinction: “One’s got a solution — one’s just something you have to live with?” But Oedipus is in no mood for academic hairsplitting.
A countdown clock marks the time until the election results will be announced. That hour, as audiences familiar with the original tragedy already know, is when Oedipus will discover his true identity.
Merope (Anne Reid), Oedipus’ mother, has unexpectedly turned up at campaign headquarters needing to speak to her son. Oedipus fears it has something to do with his dying father, but she tells him she just needs a few minutes alone with him. Thinking he has everything under control, he keeps putting her off, not knowing that she has come to warn him about revealing his birth certificate to the public.
The handling of this plot device, with the canny veteran Reid wandering in and out of the drama like an informational time bomb, is a little clumsy. There’s a prattling aspect to Icke’s delaying tactics. His “Oedipus” is more prose than poetry. The family dynamics are well drawn, though a tad overdone.
Mark Strong and the cast of “Oedipus.”
(Julieta Cervantes)
Reid’s Merope and Reis’ Antigone, ferocious in their different ways, refuse to play second fiddle to Manville’s Jocasta when it comes to Oedipus’ affections. Manville, who won an Olivier Award for her performance in “Oedipus,” delivers a performance as sublimely seething as her Oscar-nominated turn in “Phantom Thread.” Endowed with a formidable hauteur, her Jocasta acts graciously, but with an unmistakable note of condescension. As Oedipus’ wife, she assumes sexual pride of place, which only exacerbates tensions with Merope and Antigone.
Oedipus’ sons, Polyneices (James Wilbraham) and Eteocles (Jordan Scowen) are given personal backstories, but there is only so much domestic conflict that can be encompassed in a production that runs just under two hours without interruption. And Polyneices being gay and Eteocles being something of a philander would be of more interest in an “Oedipus” limited series.
When Sophocles’ tragedy is done right, it should resemble a mass more than a morality tale. Oedipus’ story has a ceremonial quality. The limits of human understanding are probed as a sacrificial figure challenges the inscrutable order of the universe. Icke, who views classics through a modern lens (“Hamlet,”“1984”), is perhaps more alert to the sociology than the metaphysics of the tragedy.
Oedipus’ flaws are writ large in his rash, heated dealings with anyone who stands in his way. Icke transforms Creon into a middle-of-the-road political strategist (embodied by Lynch with a combination of arrogance and long-suffering patience) and blind Teiresias (a stark Samuel Brewer) into a mendicant psychic too pathetic to be a pariah.
Mark Strong and Lesley Manville in “Oedipus.”
(Julieta Cervantes)
But Oedipus’ strengths — the keenness of his mind, his heroic commitment to truth and transparency — mustn’t be overlooked. Strong, who won an Olivier Award for his performance in Ivo van Hove’s revival of Arthur Miller’s “A View From the Bridge,” exposes the boyish vulnerability within the sophisticated politician in his sympathetically beguiling portrayal.
Wojciech Dziedzic’s costumes remake the protagonist into a modern European man. Yet true to his Ancient Greek lineage, this Oedipus is nothing if not paradoxical, suavely enjoying his privilege while brandishing his egalitarian views.
The production takes place on a fishbowl office set, designed by Hildegard Bechtler with a clinical and wholly contemporary austerity. The furnishings are removed as the election night draws to its conclusion, leaving no place for the characters to hide from the unwelcome knowledge that will upend their lives.
What do they discover? That everything they thought they understood about themselves was built on a lie. For all his brilliance, Oedipus was unable to outrun his fate, which in Icke’s version has less to do with the gods and more to do with animal instincts and social forces.
When Oedipus and Jocasta learn who they are to each other, passion rushes in before shame calls them to account. Freud wouldn’t be shocked. But it’s not the psychosexual dimension of Icke’s drama that is most memorable.
The ending, impeded by a retrospective coda, diminishes the full cathartic impact. But what we’re left with is the astute understanding of a special kind of hubris that afflicts the more talented politicians — those who believe they have the answers to society’s problems without recognizing the ignorance that is our common lot.
