"Many times we have wanted to fold the magazine up; it is hard to remain seated on the low hummocks of satire and humor in the midst of grim events. A satirist at breakfast may get a firm grip on his day's work . . . only to have the whole thing drop out from under him when his eye reaches the casualty list."
The professionally light-hearted New Yorker, which last week made this admission, has fallen more & more often in recent weeks into an uneasy, self-conscious mood. The New Yorker has not been alone. A wartime schizophrenia has...
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