New Yorker contributors – including a couple of participants in our “Year in Reading” series – offer a predictably thoughtful and heterodox guide to the best books they read this year.
A Year in Reading from The New Yorker
An Ashtray Instead of a Computer
FSG's outstanding Work in Progress series drops in on the offices of Lapham's Quarterly founder Lewis Lapham.
A Wasted Life
"I have wasted my life." Over at the Paris Review, Dan Piepenbring takes a look at James Wright's "Lying in a Hammock at William Duffy’s Farm in Pine Island, Minnesota" and the many interpretations readers have brought to its famous last line. Among those readers is David Mitchell, who wrote about the same poem in an essay for The Atlantic's By Heart series earlier this year.
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Sense of an Ending
How do you know when you’re finished writing a novel? Electric Literature’s advice column, The Blunt Instrument, tackles the timeless questions of how to begin and when to end. If it’s endings you’re after, this piece from The Millions on writers and last lines will help give you some closure.
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Ersatz Intellectualism
My favorite part of my apartment is my wall-length bookshelf. When I look at it, I think of all the time I spent reading and accumulating its contents. I feel I’ve earned it, which is why I’m slightly insulted by Juniper Books’ $3,000-$100,000 “collection-development service,” a program designed for “people who want a library but haven't had the time or inclination to amass a collection of books.”
The Sound of Anathema
“Some psychiatrists say that music has therapeutic powers and can even restore fluidity and mental structure for a moment in some patients – music is the opposite of chaos. It may be that heavy metal, the music his parents blamed in part for this entire catastrophe, is the only thing that gives order to my cousin’s worn-out brain. No one knows, except him.” On trying to seek refuge from schizophrenia in heavy metal.
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