How to Read The New Yorker in 10 Easy Steps
[Editor's Note: Magazines are often talked about in global terms: audiences, communities, demographics. But as individuals, we have personal connections with magazines that are just as quirky as any other relationship. In her first contribution to The Magazineer, Heather Powazek Champ shares her schema for enjoying one of her "favourites." Heather is the community manager at Flickr, the other cofounder of JPG Magazine, and my dear wife.]

I’ve subscribed to The New Yorker on and off for years - the “off” happens when I willfully ignore the flurry of annoying letters that arrive prior to the expiration of my subscription. Three and a half of those years found me living in Manhattan, though I’m currently thousands of miles and another coast away.
A subscription to any weekly magazine is a commitment. If you subscribe to more than one, it’s even more important to ensure you stay on top of your consumption. I’ve developed the following process to ensure a timely yet comprehensive digestion of the beauty and wonder that is The New Yorker. Here’s my 10-step approach to the 7 January 2008 issue.
1. Admire the cover.
2. Turn the magazine over and open to the last page to peruse the Cartoon Caption Contest. Yes, we’re going to cut to the chase and read the end first. It is, after all, only a magazine. In any order:
- The Winning Caption - enjoy or scoff.
- The Finalists - pick your favourite or wonder why you witty words aren’t featured (you’re so much funnier than Robert of Boston, Tom of Alexandria or Albert of Philadelphia).
- This Week’s Contest - immediately craft something stellar or grumble at the seemingly dwindling quality of the weekly cartoons.

3. Flip through the magazine in a leisurely manner to enjoy the cartoons, photographs, and art (with the emphasis on cartoons - my favourite is on page 38). You can also make a mental note of what stories you’d most like to read when you reach later in the process (#8).
4. Goings On About Town. Feel free to skip if your dance card is full or you no longer live in New York (like me) or you’ve never lived in New York or you won’t be visiting any time soon or the depth and breadth of goings on will only leave you pea green with envy.
A note about the advertisements: for the most part, the ads in The New Yorker are pretty inoffensive. If you’re as thrilled about the return of The Wire as I am, you might take a moment so enjoy the two-page spread that HBO has thoughtfully sprung for (pgs. 20-21). If you missed the premiere, rest assured that it will be rebroadcast a dozen times this week. Otherwise, the ads are tasteful, never smell (in the way that those in Vanity Fair or Vogue might) and can be quite intriguing (I’m referring to those tiny ads that appear towards the end of the magazine. Tell me you haven’t snickered once at the thought of a “Poke” boat).
5. Talk of the Town (or, tasty morsels that can be enjoyed in the time that it takes to make a cup of tea - I especially enjoyed Dept. of Labor “Strike Beards” as there is some facial activity happening at our house). [Editor's Note: I have no idea what she's talking about.]

6. The Political Scene. Oh, dear. I’m not looking forward to the election-ness of the election-being that is 2008. Though it will be made somewhat more palatable by Messrs. Stewart and Colbert, it’s going to be a very long year. Don’t feel guilty if you skip any an all election reporting this year (especially if it involves Giuliani).
7. Shouts & Murmurs. Sometimes funny “ha ha” or funny “weird.”
8. The Middle Bits. Sandwiched between the preceding front “bits” and the review is the meat of the beast that is the New Yorker. Longer and more in-depth, these are typically suitable items for a longer commute (strictly as a passenger) or a nice hot bath. My eye is drawn to the “Mystery on Pearl Street” by Burkhart Bilger.
9. Fiction & Poetry. This might not be an appropriate time to confess the following, but I’ve never read The New Yorker’s fiction. This isn’t to say that you won’t enjoy it.
10. The Critics (Books, Music, Theatre and Movies). There are two kinds of people in this world: those who read reviews and those who don’t. If you’re one of the latter, then you’re missing out as The New Yorker’s reviews are thoughtful, well written, and as often a not, snarky as hell. Most long-time subscribers will have a favourite or two. I don’t know that anything will ever eclipse Anthony Lane’s stellar review of the awfulness that was the Phantom of the Opera.

If managed correctly, the above process of consumption should take about a week. In fact, that’s what you should aim for lest you become “that” subscriber who’s hopelessly behind. You can tell who these folks are by the height or width of the stack that graces a coffee table, nightstand or languishes beside the toilet.
Happy reading.

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