I want to thank everyone who submitted guesses about the article that has just appeared in my favorite publication. All of the guesses were good ones, but nobody actually got it. I will, however, award the prize to Stormy, who guessed my second-favorite publication: The New Yorker. Stormy, please e-mail me at firstname.lastname@example.org to claim your prize.
As for my favorite publication. Well, although I read a lot about sports on the Web, and regularly read the sports sections of the two newspapers I read, The New York Times and Newsday, I don’t really like any sports publication very much. If there was a sports journal written as well as Faith and Fear in Flushing, I’d subscribe to it. But there isn’t. The only sports publication I recommend to anyone is the Mets Annual put out by Maple Street Press.
The New Yorker is my second favorite publication and I often read and have the highest regard for Harper’s and The Atlantic. I also always read and generally like The New York Times.
But my absolutely favorite publication is the one that Esquire has called ”the premier literary-intellectual magazine in the English language.” It is. This is why it fills the baskets in my bathroom.
My favorite publication is The New York Review of Books.
You have no idea what it means to me that the issue that has just hit the newstands contains an article by Michael Kimmelman, the chief art critic for the New York Times, that focuses on my book, “The Last Days of Shea: Delight and Despair in the Life of a Mets Fan.” This is an intellectual’s dream come true. Mr. Kimmelman says some very nice things about “The Last Days of Shea” and he actually refers to me at one point as “the Proust of Mets bloggers.” I’ll take that for an identity. Kimmelman’s article is terrific and, with the help of my book, he says a number of things about the new baseball stadiums in New York, and about what stadiums mean to people, that need to be said in the context of an intellectual journal.
I had hoped to have a link to the article, “In the Bad New Ballparks,” but this is as far as I can take you. If you don’t subscribe to the NYRB, and if you don’t want to shell out for a copy, you can find it in most libraries.
Even if you don’t know the New York Review, you may know it through Woody Allen, who often mentions it as beloved by New York intellectuals. In “Annie Hall,” when the guy on line in front of him in the movie is going on and on about Marshall McLuhan, Allen’s character says of the couple: ”They probably met through an ad in the New York Review of Books: Thirtyish academic wishes to meet woman interested in Mozart, James Joyce, and sodomy.” And in Allen’s priceless short story, “The Whore of Mensa,” a character says: ”I devised a complicated scheme to take over The New York Review of Books, but it meant I had to pass for Lionel Trilling. I went to Mexico for an operation. There’s a doctor in Juarez who gives people Trilling’s features – for a price. Something went wrong. I came out looking like Auden, with Mary McCarthy’s voice. That’s when I started working the other side of the law.”
Seriously, though, if you’re interested in literature, art, politics, and ideas in general, I can’t recommend any publication to you more highly. Check it out. And those personal ads really are like nothing you’ve ever seen.