There’s still time for me to read more of the June 28th issue. The July 5th issue hasn’t arrived yet. But … I just can’t seem to get up for it. “Nothing ruins a critic like pretending to care,” says Peter Schjeldahl in the Introduction to his great collection “Let’s See.” I agree. I’m not going to pretend I care about Mike Huckabee, who is the subject of Ariel Levy’s article “Prodigal Son.” I’m not going to pretend I care about Roger Federer, who is the subject of Calvin Tompkin’s piece “Anxiety on the Grass.” I’m definitely not going to pretend I care about something called the “Eurovision Song Contest,” which is, unbelievably, what Anthony Lane chose to write about this week. (Doesn’t Lane know by now that television’s sole purpose is to sell?) And neither am I going to pretend I care about lexical hallucinations, which is the subject of Oliver Sack’s “A Man of Letters.” Maybe it’s just the mood I’m in, but I can’t find much of anything in the magazine this week that tickles my fancy. One exception is James Wood’s wonderful review of Adam Fould’s novel “The Quickening Maze.” When Wood puts his kooky religious theories aside (e.g., the idea that fiction is almost a religious activity) and, instead, looks at writing purely as writing, he is amazingly good – Updike’s successor (no less) as the best reviewer in the world.
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