The Magazine
June 24, 2019
Reporting
Profiles
Liu Cixin’s War of the Worlds
A leading sci-fi writer takes stock of China’s global rise.
By Jiayang Fan
Annals of Pop
Troye Sivan’s Coming of Age
The pop idol’s songs translate the gay teen experience into recognizable rites of passage.
By Michael Schulman
A Reporter at Large
Can Elizabeth Warren Win It All?
The senator from Massachusetts made her name attacking Wall Street. Now she’s bringing her plans to fight outsized wealth to the 2020 Presidential race.
By Sheelah Kolhatkar
The Sporting Scene
Inside the Cultish Dreamworld of Augusta National
The home of the Masters Tournament is a prelapsarian golf paradise, combining good manners and Southern delights with exclusion and self-satisfaction.
By Nick Paumgarten
The Critics
The Art World
How to Celebrate Walt Whitman’s Two-Hundredth Birthday
Loaf at your ease, luxuriating in the poet’s unhurried, insinuated cadences.
By Peter Schjeldahl
Musical Events
Karlheinz Stockhausen Composes the Cosmos
His seven-opera cycle, “Licht,” shows that he was not only a master of far-out spectacle but also a composer of impeccable craft.
By Alex Ross
On Television
How “When They See Us” and “Chernobyl” Make Us Look
These new true-story series manage to make depressing, traumatic material not merely watchable but mesmerizing.
By Emily Nussbaum
The Theatre
Finding Refuge in “The Secret Life of Bees” and “Much Ado About Nothing”
In the South Carolina of the nineteen-sixties and in Messina, reimagined as an Atlanta suburb, equality is elusive.
By Alexandra Schwartz
Books
Briefly Noted
“Spring,” “Bangkok Wakes to Rain,” “The City-State of Boston,” and “Autumn Light.”
Books
Where Are All the Books About Menopause?
For women, aging is framed as a series of losses—of fertility, of sexuality, of beauty. But it can be a liberation, too.
By Sarah Manguso
The Current Cinema
“The Dead Don’t Die” Does the Zombie Genre to Death
Jim Jarmusch is the master of mellowdrama—his heart isn’t really in all the blood and guts.
By Anthony Lane
A Critic at Large
The Empty Promise of Boris Johnson
The man expected to be Britain’s next Prime Minister makes people in power, including himself, appear ridiculous, but that doesn’t mean he’d dream of handing power to anybody else.
By Sam Knight
The Talk of the Town
The Pictures
Yes, the Ladies of “Wine Country” Have a Group Text
Rachel Dratch, Ana Gasteyer, and Paula Pell pull out the tarot cards in the wake of their girls-only comedy with Amy Poehler, Tina Fey, Maya Rudolph, and Emily Spivey.
By Lizzie Widdicombe
Parks and Recreation
Feed the Birds—While You Still Can
New Yorkers won’t give up tossing bread crumbs and junk food to critters, even if it kills them.
By Lily Puckett
American Songbook Dept.
Shirley Jones Returns to “Oklahoma!” with Her Teen-Idol Son
The night before the Tony Awards, Shaun Cassidy and his mom, the star of the 1955 movie, took in the musical’s dark and sexy revival.
By Sarah Larson
Sunrise, Sunset
Manafort’s Monster House in the Hamptons
With Trump’s former campaign chairman headed to Rikers, his Water Mill neighbor recalls the man whose McMansion—with moat, waterfall, putting green, and M-shaped flower bed—blocked out the sunset.
By Tyler Foggatt
Comment
What a Biden-Trump Presidential Race Might Look Like
Even the similarities between the two men are revealing.
By Amy Davidson Sorkin
Shouts & Murmurs
Cartoons
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Fiction
Goings On About Town
Movies
Summertime Movie Screenings Around the City
Instead of drive-ins, New York, with its foot-traffic culture, offers cinematic sit-ins on rooftops and in parks, soccer fields, and other public spaces around town.
Tables for Two
Maison Yaki’s Cheeky French-Japanese Fusion
The Olmsted chef Greg Baxtrom’s second outing, just across the street, serves up skewers and potent small plates that encourage sampling.
By Jessica Henderson
The Mail
Letters should be sent with the writer’s name, address, and daytime phone number, via e-mail, to themail@newyorker.com. Letters may be edited for length and clarity, and may be published in any medium. We regret that, owing to the volume of correspondence, we cannot reply to every letter.