This is an exceptional essay, critically, historically, and philosophically—the best thing I've ever read by you and one of the best things I've read anywhere on substack. A high watermark that delighted, informed, and challenged me. Thank you!
I know I've said this before, but it bears repeating: Your articles, no matter how long, make me stop whatever I'm doing and read. No matter the subject matter, no matter the time of day, I'll find myself reading through to the end. Every single time.
On the subject of “_____ stories”: a dear friend of mine spent a summer in college working on the archives of The Atlantic. She decided that she wanted to give a story to the editor, so she began to pay attention to what “Atlantic stories” had in common, and she found that there were a lot of… cows in Atlantic stories. Cows. As in Holstein, etc. So at the tender age of 21, she wrote a story with a cow in it, and lo and behold, it made its way into the Atlantic. (And it was a good story, though I’m biased. But COWS!!!)
Good piece, got me thinking... Something gets chosen, maybe for good reason, maybe not. Once something's held up, it becomes guide, model, standard. It gets written toward. Or, in the case of the chosen, they write toward themselves. Taste doubles down on itself. The form became formula? Excellence is real, but also random, arbitrary, or seemingly so—hard to pull these things apart, in the moment and in retrospect. Who you know, who happens—well, it doesn't quite just happen—to be sitting next to you on a train. It's a small world…
"Privileged formulas" as a definition of literary fiction is one that is external to works of literature themselves, while describing the aesthetic and sociopolitical values of certain places in time.
Another name for “literary fiction” is “serious fiction.” Serious fiction, which can be tragic, epic, or highly comedic, and so on, has existed from the times of the Epic of Gilgamesh and Homer, if not before. Serious fiction renders consciousness, and often society and culture, in deeply humanistic and perceptive ways.
It can be written for the masses, or for elites, or both. Regardless, it's often considered to be relatively profound or borderline profound, or at least especially insightful and otherwise moving or momentous, even sometimes when seeming to be deceptively slight.
Much more could be said, including about the internal characteristics of such literature, as there has been a great amount of analysis and focus on "serious fiction" - aka - literature, throughout the ages.
Serious fiction requires some art and writers with perceptive and moving views of society and culture, people and things, which will naturally push the bounds consciousness, including conscience and lack thereof.
I loved this essay! I've been a subscriber to the New Yorker for some 30 years (after the period you cover, of course) but I never thought so comprehensively about the magazine. Fascinating stuff.
I wonder if Cheever might have been considered in the same way W. Somerset Maugham -- also a writer known for his short fiction whose novels are much less well regarded -- evaluated himself: "In the first rank of the second raters"?
It's interesting about Salinger -- I think he's a writer who has not at all fallen entirely from grace, but who has declined slightly in reputation. (Partly because he stopped publishing long before his death (and rumor has it that what he wrote since he stopped is pretty awful.) You say "writers wanted Salinger's career" or words to that effect, and I think that's true -- but nowadays I think if you offered a writer the posthumous reputation of Salinger or O'Conner -- I think most might pick O'Connor. (At any rate, I think her a greater writer.)
Probably they would pick her posthumous reputation yes :) I do agree his reputation has fallen a bit. I was actually a bit surprised to see how highly he was regarded in the 50s and 60s. He was not only regarded as a great literary talent in the 1950s, but in the 1960s became kind of a counterculture icon too!
Also, one of the few mentions of Peter De Vries I've ever seen. Dutch Calvinist from Grand Rapids, where I live, graduate of Calvin College, my own alma mater. Used bookstores here stock his books regularly, The second most well-known to come from Calvin, after Paul Schrader.
I too greatly enjoy Peter De Vries. I know a couple guys who went to Calvin College… alas they didn’t know of De Vries! I strongly recommend The Blood of the Lamb, his most explicitly Calvinist (or post-Calvinist) novel.
I enjoyed some of De Vries’ stories, but I had trouble with his first person humor pieces. In general the humor style of the New Yorker (except when it was a story w scenes and characters) didn’t hit for me.
I read his early collection, No But I Saw the Movie, and I was underwhelmed. It was a bunch of short humorous pieces (I think from the New Yorker). I haven’t really read any other short fiction from him. But his best novels are excellent. He was part of the New Yorker’s staff, so that may have constrained his contributions to them.
You've totally convinced me to check out the giant Cheever book.
Using Loong's list, the most likely new Cheever is George Saunders, with his 21 stories since 1992 (I think he's got some past 2019 now)? He's even got the (bad) novels! 21 stories in 30 years is kind of astonishing given how many more authors they give a chance to now. It's hard to say that there's a house style in the 21st century based on the numbers. In the eighties and nineties, it's Alice Munro.
Before diversity novels, the 90's and 00's had a lot of "edgy" novels (Bret Easton Ellis, Chuck Palahniuk, Denis Johnson, Jeffrey Eugenides, large parts of the big Franzen and DFW novels, Percival Everett, Michel Houellebecq). I don't think that Franzen or Johnson actually belongs in that list and was thrown in there (you've written about his before), but the formula was "letting it all hang out" in a way that became pretty frowned upon by the time the 2010s rolled around.
absolutely brilliant naomi. i learn so much from you. in the process of reading the big red Cheever book. Salinger had always been one of my favorites and i think i have an affinity for the New Yorker style. although im not sure i write in it. i think there’s a question as to whether there is a “Substack fiction” formula to be found. i think there is, but im not sure if its privileged or not.
This is amazing. Thank you. It is an essay on a subject, a long, complete answer to a question I never articulated but now realize I always desired to be answered by someone who could answer it incredibly well and completely. Thank you! Took me away from the news to the timeless.
Thank you for this assiduous and revealing look at New Yorker fiction. Probably like most readers, my first encounters with the magazine were then-current issues. I developed a notion of its orientation and goals by reading it as a whole rather than just the fiction. Nor did I have any historical understanding until eventually reading accounts of its earlier years and the editors and writers. The magazine’s editorial constraints quickly became obvious to me, as did what I’ll call its persona. If these were shortcomings, they were also its power and integrity. I did come to regard Cheever as a Chekovian master whose depictions of suburbia were the equal of Updike, and until reading your piece, I wasn’t aware of the earlier critical attacks on his writing. This is just one of many things I learned from your piece. I first came to fully realize the liberating potential of constraints through the work of the Oulipians. Nowadays I’m not fussed about genres or even about reputations. I’ve learned enough about writing to know what I think of a piece when I read it. I believe our varying opinions are valid if backed by experience. Finally, as your post demonstrates, talent can surmount even the effects of commercialization.
Thanks so much for all the time and effort it must've taken to write this. I'll be mulling it over for the foreseeable future. One slightly off-topic thought occurred right away: House Writers at The New Yorker now are non-fiction writers such as Adam Gopnik and I don't know, Susan Orlean?
Thank you doing all this reading and thinking to describe, and persuasively, the existence of this little genre and the broader formula.
A favorite Carver story that feels like it operates right at the edge of the New Yorker story's acceptable bounds while also feeling like a skeleton key for plenty of contemporary phenomena: The Pheasant. If you haven't read it yet, I recommend it! Short, masterful, and just strange enough to keep burning into the future.
What a monumental essay, filled with insight and important ideas that I’m excited to grapple with in the months ahead. And thank you for introducing me to Mavis Gallant, an invaluable touchstone to something I’m working on currently.
This is an exceptional essay, critically, historically, and philosophically—the best thing I've ever read by you and one of the best things I've read anywhere on substack. A high watermark that delighted, informed, and challenged me. Thank you!
I know I've said this before, but it bears repeating: Your articles, no matter how long, make me stop whatever I'm doing and read. No matter the subject matter, no matter the time of day, I'll find myself reading through to the end. Every single time.
On the subject of “_____ stories”: a dear friend of mine spent a summer in college working on the archives of The Atlantic. She decided that she wanted to give a story to the editor, so she began to pay attention to what “Atlantic stories” had in common, and she found that there were a lot of… cows in Atlantic stories. Cows. As in Holstein, etc. So at the tender age of 21, she wrote a story with a cow in it, and lo and behold, it made its way into the Atlantic. (And it was a good story, though I’m biased. But COWS!!!)
Good piece, got me thinking... Something gets chosen, maybe for good reason, maybe not. Once something's held up, it becomes guide, model, standard. It gets written toward. Or, in the case of the chosen, they write toward themselves. Taste doubles down on itself. The form became formula? Excellence is real, but also random, arbitrary, or seemingly so—hard to pull these things apart, in the moment and in retrospect. Who you know, who happens—well, it doesn't quite just happen—to be sitting next to you on a train. It's a small world…
"Privileged formulas" as a definition of literary fiction is one that is external to works of literature themselves, while describing the aesthetic and sociopolitical values of certain places in time.
Another name for “literary fiction” is “serious fiction.” Serious fiction, which can be tragic, epic, or highly comedic, and so on, has existed from the times of the Epic of Gilgamesh and Homer, if not before. Serious fiction renders consciousness, and often society and culture, in deeply humanistic and perceptive ways.
It can be written for the masses, or for elites, or both. Regardless, it's often considered to be relatively profound or borderline profound, or at least especially insightful and otherwise moving or momentous, even sometimes when seeming to be deceptively slight.
Much more could be said, including about the internal characteristics of such literature, as there has been a great amount of analysis and focus on "serious fiction" - aka - literature, throughout the ages.
Serious fiction requires some art and writers with perceptive and moving views of society and culture, people and things, which will naturally push the bounds consciousness, including conscience and lack thereof.
I loved this essay! I've been a subscriber to the New Yorker for some 30 years (after the period you cover, of course) but I never thought so comprehensively about the magazine. Fascinating stuff.
I wonder if Cheever might have been considered in the same way W. Somerset Maugham -- also a writer known for his short fiction whose novels are much less well regarded -- evaluated himself: "In the first rank of the second raters"?
It's interesting about Salinger -- I think he's a writer who has not at all fallen entirely from grace, but who has declined slightly in reputation. (Partly because he stopped publishing long before his death (and rumor has it that what he wrote since he stopped is pretty awful.) You say "writers wanted Salinger's career" or words to that effect, and I think that's true -- but nowadays I think if you offered a writer the posthumous reputation of Salinger or O'Conner -- I think most might pick O'Connor. (At any rate, I think her a greater writer.)
Probably they would pick her posthumous reputation yes :) I do agree his reputation has fallen a bit. I was actually a bit surprised to see how highly he was regarded in the 50s and 60s. He was not only regarded as a great literary talent in the 1950s, but in the 1960s became kind of a counterculture icon too!
What a marathon of an essay!
Also, one of the few mentions of Peter De Vries I've ever seen. Dutch Calvinist from Grand Rapids, where I live, graduate of Calvin College, my own alma mater. Used bookstores here stock his books regularly, The second most well-known to come from Calvin, after Paul Schrader.
I too greatly enjoy Peter De Vries. I know a couple guys who went to Calvin College… alas they didn’t know of De Vries! I strongly recommend The Blood of the Lamb, his most explicitly Calvinist (or post-Calvinist) novel.
I enjoyed some of De Vries’ stories, but I had trouble with his first person humor pieces. In general the humor style of the New Yorker (except when it was a story w scenes and characters) didn’t hit for me.
I read his early collection, No But I Saw the Movie, and I was underwhelmed. It was a bunch of short humorous pieces (I think from the New Yorker). I haven’t really read any other short fiction from him. But his best novels are excellent. He was part of the New Yorker’s staff, so that may have constrained his contributions to them.
This is one of the best things I've read on Substack.
You've totally convinced me to check out the giant Cheever book.
Using Loong's list, the most likely new Cheever is George Saunders, with his 21 stories since 1992 (I think he's got some past 2019 now)? He's even got the (bad) novels! 21 stories in 30 years is kind of astonishing given how many more authors they give a chance to now. It's hard to say that there's a house style in the 21st century based on the numbers. In the eighties and nineties, it's Alice Munro.
Before diversity novels, the 90's and 00's had a lot of "edgy" novels (Bret Easton Ellis, Chuck Palahniuk, Denis Johnson, Jeffrey Eugenides, large parts of the big Franzen and DFW novels, Percival Everett, Michel Houellebecq). I don't think that Franzen or Johnson actually belongs in that list and was thrown in there (you've written about his before), but the formula was "letting it all hang out" in a way that became pretty frowned upon by the time the 2010s rolled around.
absolutely brilliant naomi. i learn so much from you. in the process of reading the big red Cheever book. Salinger had always been one of my favorites and i think i have an affinity for the New Yorker style. although im not sure i write in it. i think there’s a question as to whether there is a “Substack fiction” formula to be found. i think there is, but im not sure if its privileged or not.
This is amazing. Thank you. It is an essay on a subject, a long, complete answer to a question I never articulated but now realize I always desired to be answered by someone who could answer it incredibly well and completely. Thank you! Took me away from the news to the timeless.
Thank you for this assiduous and revealing look at New Yorker fiction. Probably like most readers, my first encounters with the magazine were then-current issues. I developed a notion of its orientation and goals by reading it as a whole rather than just the fiction. Nor did I have any historical understanding until eventually reading accounts of its earlier years and the editors and writers. The magazine’s editorial constraints quickly became obvious to me, as did what I’ll call its persona. If these were shortcomings, they were also its power and integrity. I did come to regard Cheever as a Chekovian master whose depictions of suburbia were the equal of Updike, and until reading your piece, I wasn’t aware of the earlier critical attacks on his writing. This is just one of many things I learned from your piece. I first came to fully realize the liberating potential of constraints through the work of the Oulipians. Nowadays I’m not fussed about genres or even about reputations. I’ve learned enough about writing to know what I think of a piece when I read it. I believe our varying opinions are valid if backed by experience. Finally, as your post demonstrates, talent can surmount even the effects of commercialization.
Thanks so much for all the time and effort it must've taken to write this. I'll be mulling it over for the foreseeable future. One slightly off-topic thought occurred right away: House Writers at The New Yorker now are non-fiction writers such as Adam Gopnik and I don't know, Susan Orlean?
Thank you doing all this reading and thinking to describe, and persuasively, the existence of this little genre and the broader formula.
A favorite Carver story that feels like it operates right at the edge of the New Yorker story's acceptable bounds while also feeling like a skeleton key for plenty of contemporary phenomena: The Pheasant. If you haven't read it yet, I recommend it! Short, masterful, and just strange enough to keep burning into the future.
What a monumental essay, filled with insight and important ideas that I’m excited to grapple with in the months ahead. And thank you for introducing me to Mavis Gallant, an invaluable touchstone to something I’m working on currently.
What an essay! I am reading the Katherine Angell biography now and this is such a great companion to it. Thank you!