Tag: The New Yorker
I see how we are all the same, that none of us are white women or black men; rather, we’re a series of mouths, and that every mouth needs filling: with something wet or dry, like love, or unfamiliar and savory, like love.
The veteran war reporter’s advice to young journalists on safety, story, five-sense reporting, and the uses of rumor.
The great eater, writer, and humorist Calvin Trillin remembers when journalism wasn’t so respectable.
The New Yorker is lauded for keeping the literary flame alive, but is that flame sucking all of the oxygen out of the room?