Jhumpa Lahiri, of whose prose the Republic is totally a fan, has this rather excellent short piece in The New Yorker, wherein she confesses to an early (that is, pre-Pulitzer) life of crime. And it's this side of the paywall, even better.
Meanwhile, will Condé Nast (and everybody else -- NYT, I'm talking to you) ever figure out that they should offer a cheaper, web-only sub option for people with shallow pockets and a preference for trees over clutter?* Will the TLS finally upgrade its presently hand-loomed website to steam? I'd say watch this space, but life is short.
*You'd think a couple of rags named after a city of 8 million apartment-dwellers would have figured this out by now, even if the publishers themselves all live in 2 acre McMansions in Connecticut with enough coffee tables between them to circle the Earth five times.
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