“Following those social observations…came her diatribes about work, especially the complaints about her bosses, the top editors of Newsweek…with their heavy drinking and groping and hideous taste in ties and composition blind choices in photos and jarring color schemes for graphs, and their indecisive and constant tearing up of the cover in a hopeless attempt to figure out on Friday what story would still be big by Monday’s release of the magazine, when my God, wasn’t it obvious that trying to be relevant was pointless, given the new twenty-four hour TV cable news and the daily newspapers, which would have the latest anyway? All newsmagazines could hope especially to provide their readers was an in-depth look at last week’s headlines, but not, they said those covers didn’t sell. The truth, she announced for the ten thousandth time, is that what sells is movie stars.”
- Newsweek in the 80s, from Raphael Yglesias’s very sad but also infuriating and disappointing novel, “A Happy Marriage”. I should have known from the very first sentence, which compares the love of his life to recently trashed Chinese leftovers.