As brainy social animals, human beings evolved to be consummate actors whose survival and ability to reproduce depend on the quality of our performances. Is Singer’s assessment too harsh? Perhaps it is, in at least one sense. Trump, when you are alone? Singer never got an answer, leaving him to conclude that the real-estate mogul who would become a reality-TV star and, after that, a leading candidate for president of the United States had managed to achieve something remarkable: “an existence unmolested by the rumbling of a soul.” I might have phrased Singer’s question this way: Who are you, Mr. “You really want to know what I consider ideal company?,” Trump replied. “O.K., I guess I’m asking, do you consider yourself ideal company?” Hoping to uncover the man behind the actor’s mask, Singer tried a different tack: What are you thinking about, Singer asked him, when you are shaving in front of the mirror in the morning? Trump, Singer writes, appeared baffled. ![]() Singer wondered what went through his mind when he was not playing the public role of Donald Trump. The same feeling perplexed Mark Singer in the late 1990s when he was working on a profile of Trump for The New Yorker.
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