Author: The New Yorker

How the viral TikToks of a Chinese glycine factory elucidate our increasingly chaotic digital environment.

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

Can the decision to forgo food be removed from the gendered realm of weight-loss culture?

In J. J. Kandel’s short film, the lunch-break banter of a flirtatious pair of co-workers, played by Cecily Strong and KeiLyn Durrel Jones, gives way to uncomfortable revelations.

My month of vermouth-rinsing and fat-washing.

Cakes that usually come at you two-fisted—pure butter and sugar—begin to relax when you swap some of the usual white-wheat flour for buckwheat.

Zendaya, Josh O’Connor, and Mike Faist sustain a three-way rally of romance in Luca Guadagnino’s almost absurdly sexy sports film.

There is nothing “plain” about vanilla when your extract is home-brewed.

The country is being defined by disaster. What would it mean to tell a new story?

Since leaving “Top Chef,” Lakshmi has found herself in a period of professional uncertainty. What better time to try standup comedy?

Alex Garland’s grim political fantasy about secession and violence revolves around a war photographer but has little to say about the making and consumption of news images.

A crisis turns home into a place of constraint in two new independent features.

My ancestor was gifted a huge orchard just outside Delhi. The fruits it produced were the taste of my childhood.

In the past two decades, American parents have started to ditch the purées and give babies more choice—and more power—at mealtime.

The kitchen guides that New Yorker writers and editors can’t do without.

Four Twenty Five, a luxe new dining room from the mega-restaurateur Jean-Georges Vongerichten, takes square aim at the expense-account crowd.

Some of the portraits in “This Train” have an Edenic quality to them, as if Kurland is asking: What if my kid and I were the only two people in the world?

“The Tortured Poets Department” has moments of tenderness. But it suffers from being too long and too familiar.

Upon the release of “The Tortured Poets Department,” an appraisal, and a Pick Three.

The director dissects a key scene that establishes the dynamic between his character, who is embroiled in the U.S.’s immigration systems, and Tilda Swinton’s “temperamental art-world lady,” down to the meanings of their hair styles.

A hit British production of Shakespeare’s ever-timely tragedy arrives in D.C.

A new restoration of Frank Borzage’s “Man’s Castle,” starring Loretta Young and Spencer Tracy, showcases the visionary Hollywood director’s lusty yet spiritual artistry.

In his last book, “American Spirits,” Banks took stories from the news about rural, working-class life and turned them into fables of national despair.

Byung-Chul Han, in treatises such as “The Burnout Society” and his latest, “The Crisis of Narration,” diagnoses the frenetic aimlessness of the digital age.

The HBO adaptation of Viet Thanh Nguyen’s novel is part espionage thriller, part war drama, and part Hollywood satire—wild genre shifts that come at the expense of its protagonist’s interiority.

The Tony-winning playwright’s dark, antic satires were many people’s gateway to theatre. I was one of those people.

The pop star appears to revel in pleasure—even when she knows that whatever it is she’s thirsting after will probably get her into trouble.

For decades, Wilbert Rideau investigated America’s prison system—from the inside.

Corima offers attention-grabbing tortillas, Japanese flourishes, and an ambitious tasting menu that hasn’t quite found its stride.

The Wooster Group gives the Richard Foreman play “Symphony of Rats” its signature spins.

Alain Delon and the problem of beauty.

Alan Sparhawk and Mimi Parker’s marriage was one of the most extraordinary collaborations in rock. Now, a year and a half after Parker’s death, Sparhawk is back on the road.

He was Hollywood’s master of the everyday, an actor who looked, felt, and even squealed like one of us.

Any home cook who’s hosted a Passover Seder or a Rosh Hashanah dinner has likely consulted a recipe by Joan Nathan.

The band’s new album, “Only God Was Above Us,” is a treatise on inheritance, decay, generational dissonance, and the delicate idea of choosing optimism.

Two years after “Rothaniel,” the comedian has committed another moving—and deeply entertaining—act of self-exposure.

In her musical opening on Broadway, Keys tells a story very much like her own life—but don’t call it autobiographical. Plus, Rhiannon Giddens on the Black roots of country music.

The 1993 musical’s already bizarre story, derived from Pete Townshend’s beautiful 1969 album, is even less clear in Des McAnuff’s reanimation for Broadway.

The stop-motion comedy from Zach Woods, Brandon Gardner, and Mike Judge lacks the zingy acuity of its creators’ best work.

Donald Glover and Maya Erskine star as spies-for-hire posing as husband and wife—and embody their generation’s emotional and economic malaise.