Finally!
I cancelled my subscription to The New Yorker.
I said to the woman who assisted me on the phone:
I said to the woman who assisted me on the phone:
It's just so pathetic. I mean, I'm an English professor! I'm a writer! But when I get home in the evening, I say, "Whoopie! The New Yorker! Yippie! Vogue!" And then The (sad) New Yorker goes straight into the recycling bin.
She laughed and said, "I'm with you. I don't think anyone actually reads The New Yorker."
I said, "Seriously. When I see people reading it on the subway, I feel like saying to them, 'Oh please. I know you have Us Weekly hidden behind that showy cover."
Accomplishment #1 for Friday afternoon.
posted by TessaJ at 5:47 PM
2 Comments:
Oh thank you. My New Yorkers sit piled on my coffee table. A new one comes, I put it in the pile. I may flip through and read an occasional story. But my Harper's Bazaar comes, and I read it cover to cover. Twice.
Okay, three times.
You are definitely not alone.
And then I'll read (usually in Harpers or VF) that there's a great article in the New Yorker from about two months ago and frantically try and find it (though usually the article, along with the entire magazine, has been recycled).
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