Farewell New York Review

The time has come to let my subscription to the New York Review of Books lapse. Don't get me wrong--I've enjoyed the NYRB, especially for its many explosive stories on domestic politics and for the occasional excellent piece on literature and the arts. But the problem is, well, the great, or even worthwhile pieces on the arts have become few and far between.

Not just that, but there's the price factor. Sixty-six dollars for fourteen issues when I can get nearly 50 New Yorkers for under 50 bucks. What's up with that? A year of Harper's can be had for $15.

Price is not the only factor. I think that if the NYRB wants to be the "premier literary intellectual magazine in the English language," they need to publish more provocative pieces. Granted, Mark Danner's reports from Iraq and his regular dismantling of the Bush Administration have been consistently excellent, but one person cannot make a great journal.

Other than the odd interesting journalistic piece, I haven't seen much lately in the NYRB that's gotten me thinking. The arts coverage in particular feels like a bunch of academics trying to impress each other or, at best, to pedantically enlighten laypeople.

This makes for too many pieces that are unobtrusive and forgettable. In the current issue, Joyce Carol Oates's piece on James Salter is not much more than a survey of his books. It's nice for what it is, but hardly the kind of thing to make you think twice (or to justify that sticker shock). I'm still not sure what I was supposed to get out of Larry McMurty's On Rereading.

Looking back to past issues, Diane Johnson's piece on reinterpreting Jane Austen seems bloated and not appropriate for a general readership. Once you manage to push your way through the needlessly complex phrasing, the article seems to be more about scholarly disputes than anything that may interest a wide readership. There's nothing to connect it to the present, or to the reader who wants a little more than to know about conflicting strains in Austen studies.

There's also this piece about Max Ernst by John Updike. It's way too biographical for my taste and the art criticism involved just isn't that interesting. It's more descriptive than creative.

To be sure, the NYRB has featured good pieces as well (1, 2, 3, for example) but I just don't think the overall product is that consistent. I feel like my time and my money could be better spent elsewhere. Where else? Well, I've started a subscription to Absinthe, a literary review of European authors who aren't getting much coverage stateside. I'll also be reading Poets & Writers, whose web content I've been enjoying lately.

Comments

[John Dodsworth]

Scott, I think you can write that sixty-six bucks off.

[birnbaum]

Daniel Mendelsohn — priceless.

[Michael]

Scott, I feel your ambivalence about the NYRB. 'Tis a lot of money for a magazine that purports to be all things to all learners, when in fact many of its pieces are all things to tried-and-true academics (oh, and the endless debates back in forth through letters would just make me reel). I often found the ads to be more interesting that the articles. I now use my sixty-six dollars for more worthy causes, like my lunches.

[Dan Green]

Not to horn in or anything, but for a similar view see this post: http://noggs.typepad.com/the_reading_experience/2004/03/i_have_come_to_.html

[Dan Green]

Sorry: noggs.typepad.com/the_reading_experience/2004/03/
i_have_come_to_.html

[ed]

Come on, Scott! Failed and bitter writers need some bread every now and then. Pitch in like every red-blooded American!

[Robert Nagle]

Far be it for me to knock another litmag, but NYROB had too much history and biography for my liking; not enough fiction and poetry (I didn't mind the politics).

I subscribed for a few years, but never felt really passionate about the mag (reviews by Sontag and Coetzee and Didion were few and far between). I got the feeling that they weren't open to new writers anymore, both in terms of submissions and the works they reviewed.

I've always enjoyed the book reviews in Atlantic Monthly for some reason, and Richard Shickel's/Corliss's movie reviews in Time. Great critics writing for mainstream pubs.

I've said it once, and I'll say it again; It would be lovely to read longish book reviews by webloggers in a chair or bed somewhere. Far more relaxing.