They don't even have hot water in the ladies room, the New Yorker reveals. But everybody seems pretty cool with that: after all, it's the literature that's important (publishing Tom Wolfe, Denis Johnson, Alex Ross, et al), not the amenities. A longtime employee explains, "The money went into the books, not into painting the walls." (How expensive could it possibly be to paint the walls?) Now, FSG is moving 'cause they're a bit too cheap for the rising rents on their Union Square offices; nobody wants to spend money on something "inessential." [New Yorker]

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