It seems silly to say that a short story in the New Yorker is good. It's become almost tautological that the New Yorker publishes good stories, but they aren't *always*, actually, and not always to everyone's taste, and certainly as rarely brilliant as anything is in this world. But Annie Proulx's "Them Old Cowboy Songs" truly is brilliantly to my taste, and I recommend it heartily despite the fact that the piece isn't online. It's in the May 5th issue (I'm behind, I know) or else in her new collection, not out in North America until September 9 (the reason the piece isn't online?)
So this is pretty much just a tease unless you are also behind on the New Yorker. But I wanted to share, because though I read very little bad fiction these days (I'm learning to choose carefully) this is still something rare.
Have to get used to it
RR
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