Postscript: Joan Acocella

Alexandra Schwartz

A new piece by Joan Acocella was A reason enough to cancel plans. What had she chosen to tackle this time? Balanchine? The Book of Job? Harry Potter? Arsenic? There seemed to be no subject that she couldn’t take on. A little over a year ago, I hoped to review a book on Chaucer’s Wife of Bath. No dice; Joan had claimed it. Annoyance at not being able to write turned instantly to gladness at being able to read. Now I am doubly glad. Joan died last weekend, at seventy-eight, from cancer; that essay was the last she published in this magazine. She herself might not have been so deferential. “Remember: if I do not get to review it, I will throw myself out the window with a note pinned…

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The New Yorker (Digital) - 1 Issue, January 22, 2024

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