The Incomparable New Yorker
I always get consolation reading
him, a distinguished man of letters
always commensurate with a changing
world, who from his fledgling youth
devoured the only magazine he longed
to write for, the incomparable New
Yorker that published his short stories,
nurtured his career, and launched him
into a cruel, resentful world (“a minor
novelist with a major style” who “has
nothing to say”) to give the
mundane
its beautiful due, which he did with
genius, and “giddy delight.”
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