Topic of the morning: I am pondering whether I should subscribe to The New Yorker. Along with my monthly issue of Vanity Fair I get at the office, today I received a special New Yorker subscription offer for $39.95 for a whole year. That is just $0.85 per issue, in case you were wondering.
Every year, I determine to feed my mind with good fiction and fling off my literary fetters. (My book club went on hiatus this summer and I have struggled mightily to finish even a single book.)
The problem is, once you pay for a magazine, you feel obligated and pressured to read it. Subscribing to such a dense magazine feels like a commitment I’m not sure I’m ready for. Especially since I am getting married. Can I commit to new husband and weekly slabs of reading material? At what point would I sit down with the magazine? How would I find any time to even open the cover?
I just love reading the New Yorker cover to cover on the airplane. Maybe I need to take more flights.
