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April 06, 2005

Comments

Brendan Wolfe

A distinction worth making: The Atlantic is not eliminating fiction. It is eliminating (as the magazine said and the NY Times reports) "the regular publication of fiction." No fiction every month. Not no fiction.

Pete

I won't be renewing that subscription later this year, and will redirect the money to literary journals who still consider short fiction to be relevant.

TEV

Brendan, to me that's distinction without a difference - this is, effectively, an elimination.

Shandy

The hardest part of reading through the May issue is seeing the enormous amount of space given over to Tom Carson's look at "OPEN WIDE: How Hollywood Box Office Became a National Obsession," compared with the brief looks at Ishiguro and Murakami.

The real reason for this subtraction of fiction is the growth of ad revenue for the magazine over the last year. This move offers more space for ads without adding pages and cost.

Distressing.

Karen

Not mailing out the fiction issue is the worst yet. I hadn't heard that. So their regular subscribers must slog through onscreen, which (I don't care how young and computer savvy you are) is so inconvenient most stories probably won't get read. The rest of us must purchase at a newsstand. Well, maybe that would be okay. Nice cover, a little marketing . . . Anyone have any idea how well various magazines' special issues sell?

paul wiener

As a long-time Atlantic lover, I must take issue. The change in editorial policy may upset some, but if you like long narrative reportage, essays, etc, as I do, nothing comes close to the Atlantic. Its reporting in the last few years on politics,9/11, Iraq, air safety, foreign policy, American society, books, is unsurpassed, and deserves extensive prose space. It deserves more support than the New Yorker. There is not a better writer alive than Wm. Langeweische, for instance. There's loads of venues for fiction. Show some respect for writing, and forget the imagined superiority of fiction.

Shandy

Paul,

I agree with you but, since Mark provides us a wonderful literary service, bemoaning the loss of a consistent fiction piece in one of the nation's most prominent magazines is a fairly acceptable use of our time and energy. This is one space that is perfect to luxuriate in the imagined superiority of fiction. Personally, I find the reportage in Vanity Fair superior to the majority of articles I find in The Atlantic. Last year's "Path to War" in Vanity Fair is first-rate, and as good as long narrative reportage gets.

Jim Ruland

I'm firmly in the nonfiction camp (even if it is a smokescreen for ramping up ad revenue). The primacy of short fiction is a myth that exists in the minds of its professional (and that's being generous) practicioners. This is what irritates me the most about the franchising of short story writing instruction: its more outspoken beneficiaries behave as if the book and magazine publishing industries owe them something. If you really think the Atlantic's decision is detrimental to the genre, then for fuck's sake do something about it.

Jim L

I am also an Atlantic subscriber who is flabbergasted by this change. I've long respected the Atlantic for always publishing real short stories that I look forward to reading. The stories aren't always by "name authors" and are usually self-contained treasures.

By contrast, I also subscribe to the New Yorker and I find that almost exclusively they publish excerpts from soon-to-be published novels by marquee names - as such they rarely work as well as a good short story. In fact when faced once again with an obvious novel excerpt, you begin to suspect that the New Yorker's policy is the result of some literary agent/PR specialist/publishing tie-in rigmarole usually found in fast food restaurants and blockbuster movies and not the result of finding the best fiction available. The Atlantic was to be praised for mostly staying above that racket.

Karen

It's not that fiction should have primacy. It's neither more nor less valuable than other serious writing. But The Atlantic has a long history of publishing short stories, and it seems a shame for them to toss that aside.

The comments to this entry are closed.

TEV DEFINED


  • The Elegant Variation is "Fowler’s (1926, 1965) term for the inept writer’s overstrained efforts at freshness or vividness of expression. Prose guilty of elegant variation calls attention to itself and doesn’t permit its ideas to seem naturally clear. It typically seeks fancy new words for familiar things, and it scrambles for synonyms in order to avoid at all costs repeating a word, even though repetition might be the natural, normal thing to do: The audience had a certain bovine placidity, instead of The audience was as placid as cows. Elegant variation is often the rock, and a stereotype, a cliché, or a tired metaphor the hard place between which inexperienced or foolish writers come to grief. The familiar middle ground in treating these homely topics is almost always the safest. In untrained or unrestrained hands, a thesaurus can be dangerous."

SECOND LOOK

  • The Bookshop by Penelope Fitzgerald

    Bs

    Penelope Fitzgerald's second novel is the tale of Florence Green, a widow who seeks, in the late 1950s, to bring a bookstore to an isolated British town, encountering all manner of obstacles, including incompetent builders, vindictive gentry, small minded bankers, an irritable poltergeist, but, above all, a town that might not, in fact, want a bookshop. Fitzgerald's prose is spare but evocative – there's no wasted effort and her work reminds one of Hemingway's dictum that every word should fight for its right to be on the page. Florence is an engaging creation, stubbornly committed to her plan even as uncertainty regarding the wisdom of the enterprise gnaws at her. But The Bookshop concerns itself, finally, with the astonishing vindictiveness of which provincials are capable, and, as so much English fiction must, it grapples with the inevitabilities of class. It's a dense marvel at 123 pages, a book you won't want to – or be able to – rush through.
  • The Rider by Tim Krabbe

    Rider_4

    Tim Krabbé's superb 1978 memoir-cum-novel is the single best book we've read about cycling, a book that will come closer to bringing you inside a grueling road race than anything else out there. A kilometer-by-kilometer look at just what is required to endure some of the most grueling terrain in the world, Krabbé explains the tactics, the choices and – above all – the grinding, endless, excruciating pain that every cyclist faces and makes it heart-pounding rather than expository or tedious. No writer has better captured both the agony and the determination to ride through the agony. He's an elegant stylist (ably served by Sam Garrett's fine translation) and The Rider manages to be that rarest hybrid – an authentic, accurate book about cycling that's a pleasure to read. "Non-racers," he writes. "The emptiness of those lives shocks me."