On a holiday weekend, thoughts turn inevitably* to the stack of magazines teetering precariously on one’s coffee table. I didn’t even finish the back-issue winnow of a few months ago and it’s clearly time for another one, which got me thinking: if I had to pick one magazine to take/have sent to a desert island, based on its true-crime content, which one would I pick?
Is it The New Yorker, home of David Grann, Tad Friend, Casey Cep, and other authors and pieces I reread over and over? Is it New York, where Bob Kolker alone has written so many excellent articles? Texas Monthly, whose Colloff/Hollingsworth archive has filled many an afternoon? Vanity Fair, Eve’s pick — and an extremely solid one? One I haven’t mentioned, like maybe The Chicago Reader, whose review of the documentary about Frederic Bourdin is illustrated by the graphic above?
Now that I’m writing all this out, this decision is a tougher one than I’d anticipated and I’m glad I don’t actually have to make it! But if I did, I’d go New Yorker. (And only partly because of how many of their cartoons feature desert-island gags.)
What’s your desert-island longread mag?
*not really; just go with it
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