Average Reviews:
(More customer reviews)It's easy, I suppose, to knock 'The New Yorker' as effete and self-satisfied. Certainly its left-wing bias looks a bit strange surrounded by all those ads for expensive imported whisky and porcelain figures. This book demonstrates, however, that for seventy-five years the magazine has been turning out splendid profiles of a very disparate group of people. And, what's even more important, they're written so beautifully. Even an oddball piece like Ian Frazier's 'Nobody Better, Better than Nobody' is lucid and full of fine sentences. Every one of the profiles in this book has something to recommend it. You needn't admire or be familiar with the subject of the profile. I harbour an intense dislike for Roseanne Barr, for example, but John Lahr's profile of her had me enthralled; and I enjoyed Roger Angell's piece on Steve Blatt, despite my never having seen a baseball game. David Remnick states in his introduction that he gave pride of place to Joseph Mitchell's 'Mister Hunter's Grave', and that's understandable: it's a masterpiece. But Richard Preston's long story about the Chudnovsky brothers and their search for pi, or Mark Singer's tale of the amazing sleight-of-hand artist Ricky Jay, would distinguish any anthology. I think that Remnick could easily compile another volume as strong, and I hope he does so in the future -- he should include something by himself next time.
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