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 Galchen, 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.
.jpeg) |
| Portugal, 2024 (Photo by Lorna MacDougall) |
Tomorrow Lorna and I head back to our old haunt Tavira, on the south coast of Portugal, to do some cycling. We’ll be gone three weeks. I’ll take the February 16 & 23 New Yorker with me, and post my review when I return. It appears to be a particularly rich issue. I'm especially interested in the piece by Rebecca Mead on the landscape artist Andy Goldsworthy. The New Yorker & Me will resume on or about March 14.
.jpg)
.jpg.webp)
No comments:
Post a Comment