Lillian Ross, who has written for the New Yorker since 1945 and should be in The Guinness Book of World Records for conducting the longest office romance, was in town last week, seated at her regular table in her favorite Manhattan restaurant, La Caravelle, where she wore a dark green Armani pantsuit, drank San Pellegrino water and filled us in on reaction to her new book, Here but Not Here: My Life with William Shawn and the New Yorker (Random House; 240 pages; $25), which has had most of the New York literary world buzzing for the past several weeks.
Still...
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