the New Yorker
Small but perfect: So Late in the Day by Claire Keegan reviewed
The author once takes a big issue and, with her characteristic quiet brilliance, illuminates it in a small homely setting
Jeffrey Toobin’s stroke of misfortune
Jeffrey Toobin is a man much wronged. On Monday, the New Yorker writer was suspended by the magazine for which…
My quest for a universal cartoon
The universal cartoon is a rare thing
Greece is the word for the New Yorker’s Comma Queen
Mary Norris’s book about her love affair with Greece and the Greek language starts with a terrific chapter about alphabets.…
How I’d sex down the weather forecast
I have, for utterly explicable reasons, not been asked to guest-edit Radio 4’s Today this Christmas. Had I, though, I would…
Art and aspiration
When Adam Gopnik arrived in Manhattan in late 1980 he was an art history postgrad so poor that he and…
America’s greatest magazine — at its greatest
The New Yorker has always been revered for the supreme quality of its writing, says Philip Hensher
My role in saving The Spectator
I was wondering what to write about this week when I suddenly realised that exactly 40 years ago this Saturday…
The New Yorker’s grammar rules (and how to break them)
‘I had had a fantasy for years about owning a dairy farm,’ says Mary Norris, as she considers her career…
The cruellest present you could give a hated old in-law
It takes a special sort of talent to be able to make drawings of your own 97-year-old mother on her…
