Readers of this blog may be aware of my affection for the New Yorker and my attention to its weekly fiction offerings.
I found this piece amusing in its analysis of perennial complaints about the "typical New Yorker story"—amusing also because it appears to rope me in (tangentially, I suppose—click on the "inner sabremetrician" link) to its argument.
This [blog] is my Savings Bank. I grow richer because I have somewhere to deposit my earnings; and fractions are worth more to me because corresponding fractions are waiting here that shall be made integers by their addition. —Emerson, Journal (1834)
You must collect things for reasons you don't yet understand.