The New Yorker · 实时热榜

The cyclospora outbreak lays bare our underfunded and overwhelmed public-health system.

In Gregg Araki’s film, a B.D.S.M. workplace relationship opens up a cross-generational debate about carnal mores.

Also: Flaco the Owl gets a documentary, Debra Winger and Arliss Howard play “The Gin Game,” Broken Social Scene and friends drop in on Brooklyn, and more.

A drawing that riffs on the latest news and happenings.

A drawing that riffs on the latest news and happenings.

The President goes green.

In the documentary short “Sawyer Avenue, Sunday Afternoon,” body-cam and bystander footage examine a confrontation between residents and federal agents.

Discrimination against the unattractive is widespread—and widely tolerated.

Kent Nishimura’s photographs capture the backstage labor that allows the Trump show to go on.

French theory, as taught in American classrooms, has acquired a reputation of forbidding difficulty and hauteur. A new history seeks to surface its human side.

Yes, pulling the shade was my nightly task, and she’d never think to do it, but already I was half an hour away from home.

How much of the former Senate candidate’s behavior should be read through the lens of what combat did to him, and how much of it is simply who he is, independent of war?

Primary among the Secretary of State’s targets is the International Criminal Court.

Health-care workers in the Democratic Republic of the Congo are fighting the third-largest outbreak in history—and trying not to get infected themselves.

In early 2025, a man from Queens arranged to pick up a passenger in New York’s North Country. He’s been in jail upstate ever since.

The Venezuelan director Lorena Alvarado’s first feature, starring her own relatives in a fictional drama, connects a young woman’s homecoming and her artistic ambitions.

How’s cash sound?

The “S.N.L.” cast member partners with Liva Pierce in a musical revue about best friends with bad jobs and no girlfriends.

A new game show features celebrities competing for the title of “Nation’s Dumbest.” How did stupidity become a badge of honor?

New interviews with former Biden officials reveal early signals that Israel wasn’t prioritizing civilian lives in Gaza. So why was the Administration so reluctant to use its influence?

Jón Kalman Stefánsson’s “Trilogy About the Boy” is set in the remote Westfjords but its ambition is universal.

The state’s Democratic primary was dominated by an unlikely left-wing insurgent—it became a three-week sprint for Party insiders to select the next best thing.

A drawing that riffs on the latest news and happenings.

The comedians try their hand at captioning New Yorker cartoons.

Our editors and critics review notable new fiction, nonfiction, and poetry.

The final book in the author’s Harlem Trilogy is out now; read our recommendations from his œuvre.

Andy Biggs wins the Republican gubernatorial primary; Mark Lamb is the G.O.P.’s pick to fill Biggs’s seat in Congress.

His new album, “Oh Yeah?,” marries the offline charms of nineties R. & B. with the disaffection of a life lived through a screen.

Early tickets are now on sale, with events taking place October 23rd through 25th and featuring leading figures from the worlds of literature, entertainment, and more.

Featuring live-band karaoke and B.Y.O.T. (bring your own tortilla) Tuesdays.

Soulless moguls and wealth porn are out. Amid a real-life economic downturn, the greatest shows of 2026—from “Beef” to “The Comeback”—are all about scraping by.

We used to worry about people going to the cinema at all; now film lovers are making pilgrimages to one of the twenty-five theatres in the country equipped to project “The Odyssey” in its intended format: IMAX 70-mm.

The closure of the scrappy New York landmark is just one of the signs that U.S. horse racing is running out of track.

A drawing that riffs on the latest news and happenings.

Get down to Inbox Zero. Or at least Inbox 7,329, which would still be a big improvement.

One sweat-soaked American’s adventures in A.C. deprivation.

For two decades, Emily Shur, who shot for glossy magazines in the early two-thousands, has been sitting on a trove of images from a bygone era of fame.