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 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.

Thursday, April 21, 2022

April 11, 2022 Issue

Notes on this week’s issue:

1. Hannah Goldfield’s “Tables For Two: Ernesto’s” describes an intriguing martini:

The enormous round-edged, globe-lit bar is an especially nice place to sit, not least because of the easy-drinking yet civilized cocktails, including the 5 Finger Martini, made with two types of vermouth and sherry instead of the hard stuff, and a bright, effervescent Spanish G. & T., with wheels of lime and grapefruit and sprigs of rosemary in a goblet running over.

2. I enjoyed Ian Frazier’s “Stir-Crazy,” particularly its description of a barking fox: “A barking fox kind of gags and hacks, like a cat coughing up a hair ball, except that the fox sounds as if he’s enjoying it.”

3. James Wood’s idea of what is “real” and “true” has always struck me as fuzzy. He says things like “The real is the atlas of fiction” and “Fiction moves in the shadow of doubt, knows itself to be a true lie.” He doesn’t seem to have much regard for fact, which, for me, is reality’s bedrock.  But, in his “By the Collar,” in this week’s issue, he says something new: “These public events have the irresistible tang of the actual.” He’s talking about the events covered in Fintan O’Toole’s new book, We Don’t Know Ourselves: A Personal History of Modern Ireland. The irresistible tang of the actual – what a marvellous phrase! It perfectly expresses the quality I value most in art and literature. 

4. A special shout-out to Peter Schjeldahl for spotlighting N. H. Pritchard’s wonderful Red Abstract / fragment (1968-69). This work is new to me; it went straight on to my list of favourite paintings. Schjeldahl says of it, 

“Red Abstract / fragment” (1968-69) is a lyrical verse text typewritten on a brushy red ground and scribbled with restive cross-outs, revisions, and notes. Its meanings dance at the edge of comprehension, but with infectious improvisatory rhythms. ["All Together Now"]

N. H, Pritchard, Red Abstract / fragment (1968-69)



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