It’s a tricky thing, this Missed series. Writing is a lonely business, but publishing can be a disingenuous one, and the only essays and reviews that work are bullshit free.
In the July 3, 2000 New Yorker, the debut fiction issue, there was a photo of a young woman on the steps of a brownstone. Her story was terrifying, erotic, and not quite like anything I'd read before.