Introduction

What is The New Yorker? I know it’s a great magazine and that it’s a tremendous source of pleasure in my life. But what exactly is it? This blog’s premise is that The New Yorker is a work of art, as worthy of comment and analysis as, say, Keats’s “Ode on a Grecian Urn.” Each week I review one or more aspects of the magazine’s latest issue. I suppose it’s possible to describe and analyze an entire issue, but I prefer to keep my reviews brief, and so I usually focus on just one or two pieces, to explore in each the signature style of its author. A piece by Nick Paumgarten is not like a piece by Jill Lepore, and neither is like a piece by Ian Frazier. One could not mistake Collins for Seabrook, or Bilger for Goldfield, or Mogelson for Kolbert. Each has found a style, and it is that style that I respond to as I read, and want to understand and describe.

Thursday, September 7, 2017

September 4, 2017 Issue


What’s this – a TV-themed New Yorker? Cancel my subscription. Just kidding. I’ll get over it. TV isn’t the only subject covered in this week’s issue, thank God. “Goings On About Town” brims with wonderful items. For example: “cinched whirlpools of deconstructed menswear and gingham frocks deformed by asymmetrical humps” (“Art: Metropolitan Museum: Rei Kawakubo/Comme des Garçons: Art of the In-Between”); “drumbeats soft and clipping, synths modulated into shivers, with vocals sneaking acid-dream motifs in through the fuzz” (“Night Life: Neon Indian”); “malab iyo malawax, sweet crepes soaked in honey and dusted with cinnamon, and a mug of steaming qaxwo, pungent black coffee spiked with ginger” (Nicolas Niarchos, “Tables For Two: Safari”).

I also enjoyed the two book reviews – Adam Kirsch’s “Voices from the Void” and Dan Chiasson’s “Merry War.” Kirsch’s piece is illustrated with an exquisite Riccardo Vecchio portrait of Fernando Pessoa that went straight into my personal anthology of great New Yorker artwork.

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