Archive for the 'In this week's New Yorker' Category

In this week’s New Yorker

February 17, 2012


The cover of the anniversary issue is pretty great (above, title: “Loading”), and so are several of the runners-up in the annual competition for readers to submit variations on the classic Eustace Tilley cover illustration. Here are a few of my favorites:



The New Yorker has published tons of fantastic medical writing in recent years, and this issue features a long, fascinating, almost miraculous Reporter at Large story about face transplants. It’s very moving to read but the details are rough-going. I often read magazines while I’m eating, and I had to put this article off til later. Raffi Khatchadourian got spectacular access to the doctors who performed the 18-hour surgery to give a burn victim a new face (below). Eighteen hours!

In this week’s New Yorker

February 1, 2012


Aside from another great Barry Blitt cover, what’s best about this issue are two long, engrossing, disturbing features. Ian Parker goes into the minute details of everything that led up to the suicide of Rutgers freshman Tyler Clementi, including his awkward relationship with his dorm roommate Dahrun Ravi. The article mostly exposes the painfully dysfunctional ways that teenagers learn to communicate — and even more important, NOT to communicate — with other people directly. Meanwhile, Ian Frazier’s “Our Local Correspondent” piece uses the closing of the Stella D’oro cookie factory in the Bronx as a way of addressing how private-equity firms (like Bain Capital, where Mitt Romney gained his business experience and vast wealth) have set about ruining small business in America, not unlike the way the big banks ruined the economy through sub-prime mortgages. Very illuminating and disheartening — and a stark depiction of how the system has been set up to profit the 1% wealthiest Americans and screw over the rest of us.

Some key passages: When Stella D’Oro founder Joseph Kresevich died in 1965, his stepson Phil Zambetti took over. “Wages went up. Workers received health insurance paid for by the company, a fully funded pension plan, sick leave, and up to four weeks’ paid vacation a year. They [got] a factory-wide birthday holiday (for everybody’s birthday, celebrated annually on the same day), with pay. Stella D’oro sponsored a local Little League team, donated cookies to charity events, opened a restaurant with cheap and good Italian food next to the factory, hosted Kiwanis Club meetings at the restaurant. The company’s delivery trucks were step vans painted white with a gold band running around the lower half and forest-green hubcaps. They added a rhythm to the neighborhood as they came and went straight from the factory to stores, with no warehouse in between…”

When the factory closed October 9, 2008, “the laid-off bakers and mechanics and packers applied for unemployment insurance, and the president of the Bronx Economic Overall Development Corporation urged them to go to a workers’ center on East 149th Street for career counseling and training vouchers.
“In the second week of October, just days after the factory closed, Goldman Sachs announced that it would pay out twenty-three billion dollars in holiday bonuses to its executives and staff. The amount was the largest bonus pool in the hundred-and-forty-year history of Goldman Sachs. At the highest average salary Brynwood [the private equity firm that sold Stella D'oro to the company that shut the factory down and moved its business to Ohio] had offered — about seven hundred and eighty dollars a week — the hundred and thirty-four Stella D’oro workers together would have had to work forty-hour weeks for about forty-two hundred years to earn twenty-three billion dollars.”

In this week’s New Yorker

January 28, 2012


My favorite thing about this week’s New Yorker was learning, from “The Missionary,” Dana Goodyear’s article about Mexican chef Javier Plascencia, above), the origin of Caesar salad:

“Caesar Cardini, an Italian restaurateur with places in Sacramento and San Diego, moved his operation to Tijuana in the early nineteen-twenties. He opened Caesar’s, a bistro with a long wooden bar and a black-and-white checkered floor, on Avenida Revolucion — once known as the most visited street in the world — where American couples went for margaritas, sombreros, and a quickie divorce.

“The first successful culinary export from Tijuana was the Caesar salad: hearts of romaine tossed tableside with coddled egg, oil, Parmesan, lemon, and crushed garlic, and designed to be eaten with the fingers, like asparagus. According to Julia Child, one of her first restaurant memories was of visiting Caesar’s with her parents around 1925. ‘My parents, of course, ordered the salad,’ she wrote. ‘Caesar himself rolled the big cart up to the table, tossed the romaine in a great wooden bowl.’ She went on, ‘It was a sensation of a salad from coast to coast, and there were even rumblings of its success in Europe….Before then, too, salads were considered rather exotic, definitely foreign, probably Bolshevist, and, anyway, food only for sissies.’ In 1953, a French epicurean society declared the Caesar ‘the greatest recipe to originate from the Americas in fifty years.’ “

In this week’s New Yorker

January 22, 2012

Another stellar batch of cartoons!


Along with fine reporting by Ariel Levy on Callista Gingrich, Steve Coll on “Looking for Mullah Omar,” and William Finnegan, who traveled to Madagascar with club and restaurant superstar Eric Goode to observe his passion for saving rare breeds of tortoise. The latter piece is a real vocabulary expander; I picked up “chelonian,” “gular scute,” and “opuntia cactus.” Lots of astonishing tortoise lore: “Chelonians actually predate many dinosaurs. They have been lumbering around for more than two hundred million years, and have changed very little in all that time. Nobody knows how long individual plowshares live. Captain James Cook took away a radiated tortoise, the plowshare’s closest relative, and gave it to the King of Tonga, in 1777. It died in 1966.” And the next time there’s a lull in conversation over dinner, try telling your guests “Endoscopic turtle sexing will not become common practice in Madagascar any time soon.”

Poet Donald Hall contributes a poignant Personal History essay on aging, “Out the Window,” and Anthony Lane applies his characteristically droll erudition to reviewing Ralph Fiennes’ film adaptation of Shakespeare’s Coriolanus: “The movie unfolds in a modern setting, and in modern dress. This will obviously be disappointing to any Gerard Butler fans who hoped to see their man reprise his majestic outfit from 300, which consisted of helmet, cloak, and pull-up Spartan diaper.” And whichever poetry editor has been slipping lyrics by pop songwriters such as Joni Mitchell and Paul Simon into the magazine has now added to the list Leonard Cohen. As usual, the lyric doesn’t fly so well on the page, but on the website you can scroll down and hear the track “Going Home” from Cohen’s forthcoming album, Old Ideas, hotly anticipated by me.

In last week’s New Yorker

January 18, 2012

I’m not a huge shopper and can’t imagine reading a magazine like Lucky, but I enjoy reading Patricia Marx’s special brand of shopping dispatches for the New Yorker. Last week she concentrated her laser-beam observational skills on NYC supermarkets. Of my very favorite, Fairway, she had this to say: “The main store, at Broadway and Seventy-Fourth Street, can be an anxiety-filled combat zone. Are you tough enough to venture into the crowd and do battle with the strollers, the walkers, the killer shopping carts, and the line-cutting, salt-phobic, food-sample-noshing regulars, each of whom has more neuroses than you’ll find in the waiting room of the average West End Avenue shrink? No wonder the management hired a woman last year whose job is simply to roam the store, being nice to customers.”  And at Dean & DeLuca in Soho: “As for the chocolates, delicate hand-carved and painted pieces of sculpture: in the words of one friend, never eat anything prettier than you are.”

In his review of Jodi Kantor’s book on the Obamas, David Remnick gives it more credence than I would have imagined, plucking out numerous good quotes” “Obama was elected to lead ‘a rational, postracial, moderate country that is looking for sensible progress,’ a White House official tells Kantor. ‘Except, oops, it’s an enraged, moralistic, harsh, desperate country. It’s a disconnect he can’t bridge.”

Then there’s the hilarious Talk of the Town piece by Andrew Marantz in which some Brooklyn Republicans watching the results of the Iowa caucuses discover by Googling the way Rick Santorum’s name has been repurposed, under the instigation of columnist Dan Savage. It’s weird that Marantz describes the definition of santorum as “unprintable,” given the various verbal barriers that the once-staid New Yorker has leapt over in recent years, but whatever. (Google it yourself and see.) But I love that Marantz contacted Savage himself for a response. Asked by e-mail if he felt he had helped make history, Dan Savage wrote back: “No, I’ve made mischief.”

And it’s an issue with a high ratio of especially good cartoons, too.

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