I remember when I first started reading the new yorker. There were old issues that happened to be around the gym at work, and having read someone's blog who seemed to like it a lot, i started picking up issues and reading whatever article seemed most interesting while I worked out. The New Yorker is quite dense, and honestly more than a little pretentious. But I found stories that made me want to rip the pages out and preserve them, reading them over and over again to capture the people and experience the author was describing. There are some articles that told such lovely stories.
I subscribed, and over the past few years the only magazine that has piled higher with unread copies has been the Economist, which I finally gave up and canceled. It's unfortunate -- I do love the New Yorker, but I can't keep up with it. It has gone from a leisurely activity, a surprise, to a weekly duty. It doesn't help that certain people seemed to jump on it and complete each issue well before the next would arrive, leaving me 5 deep.
I never transferred my subscription when I moved to Boston, but I also didn't cancel it (probably something psychological about being unwilling to close doors there). When I was home for spring break, I grabbed the issue with the prettiest cover art, glanced at the index, and started reading. It was the style issue. I was reminded of how even if they continue piling up ad infinitum, I will continue to subscribe, because some of the articles are so poignant I want to cry. In this issue I read about Isabel and Ruben Toledo, a fantastic cuban couple so creative and productive and immersed in each other (the abstract doesn't do it justice), and I was so moved I think I'll have to rip out and save the pages as I did with the article about Diller Scofidio + Renfro, a design firm in New York. They did the ICA in Boston. Now that I look them up, I realize each story is about a husband and wife pair who create beautiful things. I love the idea that their relationship manifests itself in their collaboration. I love the picture of Isabel hoolahooping while Ruben dances in the background of their loft. I think I will have to throw all of my New Yorkers into the air and read them randomly as they land.
Edit: Here's a great walk through of their living space: nymag