Recommended Reading: A new story by Yuri Herrera for Granta Magazine, featuring “the prayer of the overheated-horndog”: “Oh please, oh please, oh please / May he, the drunken me / May he, the dumbfuck me / May he, the me who never ever ever knows where shit is / May / he have saved one / Just one / Lubricated or corrugated / Colored or flavored / Magnum or tight-fit / Oh please / Holy Saint of horndogs / Grant me just one condom.”
New Romance
The Best of Young British Rankings
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A Bit Much
First came the reviews. Naturally, reviews of these reviews followed. Then, in furtherance of a pattern that was getting pretty weird at this point, somebody wrote a review of review reviews.
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The Perils of Word Aversion
Moist-haters, unite: why do some people despise the sound of certain words?
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How Can I Help
“Often the people who turn most passionately to data and reason are those who feel most overwhelmed and controlled by irrational impulses.” New fiction by Rivka Galchen over at The New Yorker! Pair with our review of her most recent book, Little Labors.
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Trouble with Names
When your first name is interesting or just plain weird, you learn how not to get sick of explaining what your parents were thinking. Fortunately for Brevity editor Dinty Moore, his name is “more a gift than a burden.”
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Glamour’s Page 194 Girl
At Glamour‘s blog, the fashion magazine shot heard round the world: a nude photo of a girl who–gasp!–wears a size 12 and doesn’t have a six-pack. And, she looks happy. Apparently, this is what readers of fashion magazines have been waiting for.
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Wharton is the Original Gossip Girl
On this week’s New Yorker Out Loud podcast, Rebecca Mead recommends (seriously) Edith Wharton’s The House of Mirth — “the real thing” — for teen-readers who love the Cecily von Ziegesar Gossip Girl series.
Just Give Me a Minute
Is Karl Ove Kanusgaard’s seven-volume, 3,600-page, vaugely-autobiographical epic possible to pitch over the course of an elevator ride? The good people over at n+1 are willing to give it a shot! Have you ever wondered about the view outside of Knausgaard’s window? I bet you have now.
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