#jim-peck

#jim-peck

ARMY Twitter was aflutter with accusations that the warm-up comic for The Tonight Show Starring Jimmy Fallon made a racist joke. He said, 'Anybody here from the North? No? Nobody?' Fans interpreted that as being directed at the band, implying that one of them was from North Korea.

This goosebump-inducing sammie appears in King's beloved spooky classic "It," as a favorite of two characters: Mike Hanlon and John Koontz. The horror of having two characters eat the same unorthodox pairing lingered with fans on Reddit, with one noting that the mere mention of said sandwich counted as among the "most horrifying" Stephen King lines.

Back then, news didn't break unless the town crier tripped over his own words. There were no "breaking reports," no special election coverage, no bickering pundits crammed into a single screen. News traveled so slowly that it took more than six months for word to spread across the thirteen colonies that the Revolutionary War was over.

It's kind of a little local community hang spot as much as it is a retail store. You could buy analog cameras or photo books at the shop. If you're like me, you could browse in order to motivate yourself to dig your old film camera out of the closet. Or you could just hang out, talk art, and make friends.

The podcast will be later in the year, and it'll be an in-depth dive into people's footballing and personal lives, he continues. It'll be a podcast with a twist. I can't tell you what that twist is at the moment, but it *will* be a podcast with a twist. The best features, fun and footballing quizzes, straight to your inbox every week.

Epicenter, a multiplatform community and news organization founded during the pandemic to help New Yorkers navigate COVID-19 while spotlighting arts, small businesses and ensuring resources reached those who needed them most, has faced this challenge repeatedly. Community, ethnic and small media outlets have long struggled to get responses from government and corporate press teams that prioritize outlets with perceived scale and reach.

I used to think I was over my startup failure. That was three years ago, ancient history, right? Yet every time I pitched a new idea to someone, my hands would shake. Every investor meeting felt like walking into that same room where I had to tell my team we were shutting down. My body remembered what my mind tried to forget. That's when Bruce Springsteen's words hit me like a freight train: "The past is never the past. It is always present. And you'd better reckon with it in your life and in your daily experience, or it will get you. It will get you really bad."

Both are "idealists," he writes, "deranged by hope, in awe of reassurance, impressed by their pleasures." The book criticizes monogamy as "a way of getting the versions of ourselves down to a minimum," but it doesn't exactly defend infidelity. Phillips's real target may be monotony, the offspring of rote rule-following.

"Race Against Time: A Reporter Reopens the Unsolved Murder Cases of the Civil Rights Era" quickly became one of my favorite nonfiction books written by a journalist. I appreciated how he showed the grueling, day-to-day work local journalism requires, and how many layers of people fought him in revealing the despicable work of the Ku Klux Klan.

Bari Weiss, Tony Dokoupil, and the pieces of CBS News they speak for are somewhat obsessed with telling you that they don't expect your trust, but they intend to earn it. Dokoupil when he stepped into the CBS Evening News anchor role earlier this month. Weiss reiterated this yesterday during her all-hands meeting with the CBS News staff, wherein she also promised those of us at home scoops, scoops, and more scoops .

Dilara, the protagonist of this début novel, is consumed by the absence of a stable home in her life. She and her family flee Turkey, where she is from, after a failed coup in 2016. When they end up in Italy, something inexplicable happens: Dilara's bathroom transforms into a cell in an infamous prison on the outskirts of Istanbul.

Daniyal Mueenuddin joins Deborah Treisman to discuss 'Two Pilgrims,' by Peter Taylor, which was published in The New Yorker in 1963.

Anytime an Oregon author, or any other prominent writer, gave a reading at Powell's Books, Steve Arndt would show up early, sometimes by a couple hours, and reserve front-row seats for his fellow writers. He wanted the writer giving the reading to know they had the support of Portland's literary community. His friends say that habit embodies Arndt's kindness, generosity, thoughtfulness, and the way he fostered and strengthened a sense of community in Portland's literary scene.

Skip to main content Illustration by The New Yorker; Source photograph Michael Lionstar Listen and subscribe: Apple | Spotify | Google | Wherever You Listen Sign up to receive our weekly Books & Fiction newsletter. Joseph O'Neill reads his story Light Secrets, from the January 26, 2026, issue of the magazine. O'Neill is the author of a story collection and five novels, including Netherland, which won the PEN/Faulkner Award for Fiction in 2009, The Dog, and Godwin, which was published in 2024.

In addition to writing fiction, you're a staff writer for the and a screenwriter. How do you think of your career? I think of myself as a storyteller. I'm nosy, so once I'm telling a story, I want to know what happens. I do find, with fiction, I can't toggle in and out of it. It's like acting, where you have to stay with that character, in that world.

Sophia Stewart poses a choice that many biographers struggle with: "what to do with the boring bits."

A writer is a kind of magician. Their job is to create living, three-dimensional people out of the ordinary stuff of ink and paper. This is no easy task, because readers can't literally hear, touch, or observe a character. Everything that defines a human being in real life-the physical space they occupy, or how they smell, feel, and sound-is stripped away, replaced by description. But authors have one major, mystical advantage: They can show you what's happening inside of someone's brain.