Cracking this week’s New Yorker

It is hard, while in grad school, to keep up with all the writing and reading, even though that is what we’re here to do. Each time a New York Review of Books arrives, I get a few pages into it, sigh, then return to reading about the culture wars of the academy in the 1990s or whatnot. And so it goes with all the periodcals: they crash through the mail slot, demanding attention, but more often than not end up shoved into the magazine rack. At which point I think, geez, I need a bigger magazine rack.

All of which is to say that in the latest New Yorker there is a new short story by David Foster Wallace*. Available online now, and on a magazine rack in my living room for the forseeable future.

*Which, amazingly, actually works in the line “What would even Jesus do,” without irony.**

** I think it’s without irony, that is.