Hark, the Millennial Death Wail

There’s a keening sound coming from America’s co-working spaces, third-wave coffee shops, and mommy-and-me yoga classes. Perhaps you’ve heard it, as if 72.2 million complaints rang out in unison: grumblings of sore joints from high-intensity interval training, of parties held in distant neighborhoods on weeknights; grievances about the resurgence of Y2K style, the onset of…

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Plush, Perfumed Pepperpot

Good morning. Time was, a goodly part of my correspondence was with readers annoyed with me or with The New York Times for publishing recipes calling for ingredients unavailable to them, either for reasons of geography or because they didn’t wish to stray beyond the aisles of their local supermarket. Online shopping and better supermarkets…

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The Man in Room 117

Alone with his mother for the first time in almost a year, Andrey Shevelyov had a question: Could he come home? She sat beside him and stroked his head. The hotel room had a sour, rancid smell, and clothes lay mounded in a corner. His fingernails were long and curved and ridged with dirt. In…

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