The New Yorker

Kristen Roupenian, American writer. (Bruno Arbesu/REA/Redux)

The real Cat Person has spoken—but is there a real Cat Person? 

What the saga of a short story tells us about sex, lies and truth in fiction

Gay Talese on the creepiest motel in America

The New Journalism pioneer shares an unsettling, uncertain 30-year-old secret in ‘The Voyeur’s Motel’

Cartoonist’s graphic memoir tackles parental old age and death

Review of ‘Can’t We Talk About Something More Pleasant’ by Roz Chast

A writer’s love affair with George Eliot’s ‘Middlemarch’

A review of My Life In Middlemarch by Rebecca Mead

‘I was very well-hidden in plain sight’

Françoise Mouly defined The New Yorker and the graphic arts, though is best known as Mrs. Art Spiegelman


Calvin Trillin and Adam Gopnik on Canadian comestibles

The two writers talked bagels, smoked meat and ice wine while delighting a crowd of food lovers

Canada’s Top Five university comics

Prof. Pettigrew ranks our campus cartoonists


And, oh yeah, it’s about ants

Every so often the New Yorker gives readers their first glimpse of a classic of American fiction. Indeed, all the other apparent functions of that organ are peripheral. What must it have been like to open up the magazine and get hit between the eyes with “The Secret Life of Walter Mitty” or “The Lottery” or In Cold Blood or Maus? Today, my friends, you get to find out. “Trailhead” is a free-standing excerpt from the forthcoming first novel by the naturalist E.O. Wilson.


Amazing hidden magazine-cover debates of the future

Two things about the New Yorker terrorist-fist-bump cover, which I will now ruin your mind by reproducing here: