The New Yorker’s fiction is terrible.* There, I said it. Every week it’s another story about uninteresting, unhappy people becoming more unhappy still. There is little to no action; virtually nothing happens. Often it’s well-written, in the sense that there are nice turns of phrases, and the characters are explored in a way that gives …
Tag Archives: new yorker
It’s funny. Laugh.
As Bill Maher asks, “If you can’t do irony on the cover of The New Yorker, where can you do it?”