“The secret of a good blog posting is to have a good beginning and a good ending; and to have the two as close together as possible”. (Taking off on George Burns)
I’m sure you have noticed the incredible prolixity of the commentariat. My blog task is to take information on interesting topics, to sum it up as succinctly and grammatically as possible, then provide a comment, where appropriate from an Epicurean point of view. When I was at school this activity seemed to be what English Language lessons and exams were all about. Back then it bored me hugely, and I longed for, say, a lesson in Higher Mathematics or something simpler like that, with a correct answer at the end of it.
What a shame magazine and newspaper writers never learned the art of the brevity. Some articles go on, and on…and on. Yes, I know. The authors are paid by the word, or, more likely, the half mile. I am sorry to say that American writers are particularly bad about this (to mention the New Yorker is sufficient). Surely they can empathize with us, desperate as we all are for precious time. Cannot they understand that we are not all sitting by the fireside, eating chocolates, with nothing else to do? Would it not be a courtesy for them to say what they have to say shortly and memorably, instead of lengthily and repetitively? Enough already.
If only lecturers at university would think the way you do! They spend a long time explaining relatively little. And they explain things so badly, you are left wondering what they’re talking about. They’ve spend their whole lives dedicated to the subject matter in question, and then expect you to grasp instantly, their copious ramblings on obscure (and in the case of political theory) abstract content. What is needed are lecturers who are both knowledgable in their field, and who possess an ability to teach with clarity and concision. Sadly, most have the former and lack the latter.
Oh yes! And the “NYRB” offends mightily on that score.
A good long book, on the other hand, I sometimes wish would go on for ever. Jane Austen, for example.