A Profile on New Yorker Profiles

A few years ago, I spent an afternoon at my home upstate with a young staff writer from The New Yorker.

I gave him a tour. Introduced him to my wife. Answered his questions.

Then he wrote 850 words about me.

He said some nice things. He took some subtle jabs. His tone was a little snarky.

I didn’t hate the piece. I didn’t love it.

By the next day, I’d forgotten all about it. I’d completely moved on.

And so had everyone else.

That’s the typical shelf-life of the typical author profile. Even those published in The New Yorker.

With one notable exception.

Seventy-five years ago, the magazine ran a profile of Ernest Hemingway, written by the legendary journalist Lillian Ross.

The piece made such a splash, the literary world is still talking about it.

And The New Yorker is still writing about it.