The April 9th edition of The New Yorker is identical to the issues preceding it in most ways that matter: it is arch and aggrieved in tone, knowingly quixotic, self-amused and eccentric, plugged-in and Ivory Tower imprisoned alike. There are delicate dissections of ExxonMobil’s political reach, the modern sporting scene, the Supreme Court’s likely kneecapping of Obamacare, an earnest defense of NBC’s Awake, an even-handed review of the new Whit Stillman film.
Read Full Article »
