Yet most New Yorker readers feel that it was under Shawn that the magazine flourished most. It was because of these articles that Shawn's New Yorker was often accused of being 'too long and boring'. Shawn also favoured longer and more factual pieces, often addressing serious social themes and touching closer to politics than Ross ever allowed. 'He doesn't smoke and drinks very little coffee.' He didn't exhibit any of the vices typical of ever-stressed editors: 'I've never heard of an editor who doesn't drink,' Frank said, 'What does he do - smoke cigarettes and sip coffee all day long?' While many thought Ross miscast as editor of The New Yorker because of his loud brashness, Shawn seemed miscast because of his resemblance to a quiet country gentleman. He was quieter and more respectful of his writers. He handled almost every aspect of the magazine personally or through a steady managing editor who did not need to be a genius.

Shawn differed from the first editor, Harold Ross, in many ways. From 1951 to 1987, this man was the spider who sat quietly in the midst of the vast web that was The New Yorker, overseeing and directing everything that took place. In the back of the New Yorker offices in a very warm room sat a very short, very quiet and very bald man. After about an hour, the couple left.A Guided Tour Through The New Yorker | Ross's Little Magazine (1925 - 1951) | Mr Shawn's New Yorker (1951 - 1987) | A Condé Nast Publication (1987 - present) | Harold Ross - The History | Harold Ross - The Man | Katherine S White - Rewriter of Noon | EB White - Most Companionable of Writers | James Thurber - Raconteur Extraordinaire | Wolcott Gibbs - Surgeon with Words | William Shawn - Invisible Editor But at CMYK, the author depended on wife Linn - his arm on her shoulder - to navigate his way.

Arundhati Roy was born the year he got his job at The New Yorker.īack home in New York, Mehta is known to walk the streets without a cane or a dog. Once Shawn had said, “He (Ved Mehta) writes about serious matters without solemnity, about scholarly matters without pedantry, about abstruse matters without obscurity.” This India-born writer had established a literary reputation in the West when our later superstars like Salman Rushdie and Vikram Seth were still to begin their first novels. In the midst of conversations, Mehta would bring his wine glass behind his back, without spilling it. Magazine publisher, an hotelier, and at least two authors. There was an interior designer, a photographer, a They made polite talk with quite a few upper crust Delhiites who had come to see them. Both husband and wife were friendly, without any pretensions. Twenty-two years his junior, she was in a royal blue sari. He is blind.īut who had the mood for books when there was wine, cheese, and a famous New Yorker? A protégé of the late William Shawn, The New Yorker’s legendary editor, Mehta had come to sign copies of Mamaji and Daddyji, just two of his 25 books. A little irony here since Mehta could not be expected to enjoy their visual extravaganza. Opened last month, the store specialises in coffee table volumes.

Last Tuesday Ved Mehta, the Lahore-born American memoirist and former staff writer of the venerable New Yorker magazine, was seen in south Delhi’s quiet Meharchand market, at the bookstore, CMYK.

Ved mehta new yorker