The New Yorker: Fiction The New Yorker

Avid reader wanted to appreciate fiction more. This podcast hit the spot! The passionate but approachable insight here is inspiring and instructional even to one that lives in the comfort of rows and columns. Thank you!

Awoken to a spectacular, caramelized raspberry crumble filling my senses. The aroma was imperceptible, but familiar mounds of gooey crust warmed, rose, and cracked like fissures in baking clay while I slept. Bright red flesh with seeds of life wait with patience for the opportunity to blossom down to my scared lips and around to the outside of my right nostril like viral fire burning across my dark circled and puffy landscape of stress. The title is Cold Sores

These are wonderful, not only hearing all the great stories, but also the discussion of them. Even the sound, calm and quiet, is a delight. The only sour note is the ads, which interrupt at odd times, and are loud, nasal, especially the scotch whiskey one.

Does the fiction editor have to sound like a priggish ahole.