A Friend Writes: ‘Who Is Running The New Yorker?’

Officially, there is no such thing as the New Yorker masthead. The New Yorker is so averse to having a masthead that The New Yorker will not even comment about why it chooses not to have a masthead.

As a result, the people who make the magazine have spent generations veiled by the fictitious persona Read More

Going Bust: Dot-Coms Break Out the Coffins

There may not be much new material in Tom Wolfe’s latest collection, Hooking Up , perhaps accounting for why the only type on the book cover is the author’s name (bright red over a canary-yellow background, with a string of interlocking rings running vertically across). The title piece, an essay on life at the millennium, Read More

Ms. Adler, The New Yorker and Me

A few months ago, I reviewed in these pages a book of memoirs by Michael Korda, in which I turn up as a good guy. Now, Renata Adler has written a book- Gone: The Last Days of ‘The New Yorker’ -in which I’m one of the bad guys. Renata’s editor is Michael Korda, and her Read More

In Search of Hemingway’s Brain During His Lousy Centennial Year

Ernest Hemingway was stupid. Haven’t you heard? It’s right there, in the latest issue of Harper’s Magazine .

Hemingway has been called a lot of things over the years–vain, anti-Semitic, sexist–and now this.

This ultimate insult comes as an aside in an article on the supposed resurgence of American short fiction in the 90′s. Read More

Nothing for Lillian Ross in William Shawn’s Will

As Liz Smith wrote the other day, you can get in a fistfight for saying that Lillian Ross had a right to publish Here but Not Here: A Love Story , her memoir of her long adulterous romance with the late William Shawn. Leading critics have called her tasteless and cruel just for telling her Read More