Before I came to realize that my style and subject matter were both completely unsuited for The New Yorker, I actually tried getting published there once or twice. No surprise: Rejected.
How can you tell The New Yorker is a huuuuuuge powerhouse of a magazine?
- No editor’s names, just “The Editors” (to be whispered in hushed tones, like “The Gods”)
- No phone number
- No spot for a random faceless assistant (RFA) to scribble the rejected author’s name or manuscript title
- No date
- No signature, not even a fake one
Still, I’ve no hard feelings. The New Yorker is my favorite magazine, and I’m not at all right for it, and that’s just the way it is. In fact I rarely even read the fiction that they publish anymore (usually one story per issue), because I generally don’t like it. No, I get The New Yorker for the articles, the reviews, and, of course, the cartoons.
Speaking of the cartoons … a lot of people are very upset about the recent cover featuring Barack Obama and his wife doing some very un-American things in the Oval Office. This cover is clearly satire, and it is not aimed at Barack Obama. However, many people seem to think that this cover is actually attacking Barack Obama, to which I say: Read a few issues. And then, if you still think The New Yorker is at all likely to attack Barack Obama, read a few more.