What the media industry lacks in earning potential it makes up for in self-congratulation. A killer scoop might not make you rich, but it will put you in front of the judges of the National Magazine Awards, the Pulitzer nominating committee, and whoever’s curating Longreads these days. And if your Roger Ebert profile doesn’t win the Ellie for feature writing this year, well, that’s just fuel for the chase of the next perfect profile subject, the one that will render your byline immortal.
But what about the writers, reporters and editors who take on the thankless task of feeding our national addiction to celebrity news? US Weekly, Star, Life & Style, OK, People.
As The Observer reported last December, British novelist Martin Amis is packing up, crossing the pond, and shacking up in Cobble Hill. But how will the author of Money, son of Kingsley and drinking pal of Hitch find out about all those hip hot spots surrounding his new digs?
Always servicey, Vantiy Read More
It starts with the ragtag pioneers, moving in with their funky friends and their bohemian pursuits, seeking life on the cheap in some desolate space. Then comes the progression: artists give way to creative professionals, lofts give way to loft-style co-ops, expensive cheese stores give way to more expensive cheese stores. The neighborhood has arrived; Read More
How do you know when the best part is over? Restoration Hardware opens in the neighborhood. Björk gets profiled in The New Yorker . Zhang Yimou starts putting Zhang Ziyi in all his movies.
And Vanity Fair essayist James Wolcott arrives on the Web, via jameswolcott.com: ” … I was having brunch with Elvis Mitchell, Read More
The Catsitters , by James Wolcott. HarperCollins, 314 pages, $25.
“The Perfectibility of Man! Ah heaven, what a dreary theme! The perfectibility of the Ford car!” That’s D.H. Lawrence launching his wonderfully acid essay on Benjamin Franklin. Fervent belief in the perfectibility of man–these days we call it “self-help”–is one of our more embarrassing national Read More