The Guardian caught up with new-ish Paris Review editor Philip Gourevitch the other day, and besides all the usual highbrow stuff he had to say about getting more reporting into the magazine ("I feel that our literature, especially the periodical fiction, is rarely up to the wildness and boldness of the times"), he also had this to say about the pool table he's installed in the Review's office in Tribeca:
"In the old Paris Review offices there was the famous pool table where a lot of the editing took place. When we were offered this one, we jumped at it. It's coin-operated, so we might make a little profit."
We had no idea things were so bad in the post-Plimpton era. May we suggest a bake sale, or perhaps a magazine drive? Or maybe Phil could sell candy in the subway. We hear that can be lucrative.