It’s a snow day here in Durham. I’ve been catching up on email, futsal planning, bills, shopping for better car insurance, and so on. I’ve also read back issues of NYRB and The New Yorker.
The latter of the two publications has a haunting cover image of an ocean liner at night. But inside there is an all-too-common story about a minor artist with well-connected friends. Too bad Trump adviser Peter Thiel destroyed Gawker. Now who’s going to to get paid to tear into tripe like this?
(By the way, the begetter of this carefully shaped bit of flattery has made two films I liked a lot: Reprise and Oslo, 31, August. But his latest–and his English-language debut–Louder Than Bombs, was gravely disappointing.)
It’s early days in the Trump era, and I’m not reassured by the quality of the mainstream liberal media–anything with “New York” in the masthead.