Tuesday, October 08, 2002

With Ms. Brown's New Yorker, you had the sense that the world of ideas was up for grabs (sometimes by hands more grubby than manicured, but up for grabs nonetheless); with Mr. Remnick's magazine you feel you are in the stifling embrace of a clerical clique, a kind of Upper West Side ulema, that reflects a prevailing, self-satisfied code.

More here from Tunku Varadarajan at the Wall Street Journal. I couldn't agree more.

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