Because I was ranting earlier (on December 27th, to be precise) about how tired I am of stories, particularly in The New Yorker, about dysfunctional relationships that never go anywhere, when they publish one worth reading, I feel it’s my duty to mention it. The story is Wakefield, by E. L. Doctorow, and it’s in the January 14th issue. Satisfyingly long, it is indeed about a dysfunctional relationship, and it makes me wonder if all those other dysfunctional relationships just weren’t dysfunctional enough to be truly interesting. This one really makes you squirm, and that’s all I’ll say about it.