Roger Hodge, whose rise from the state of Texas to Harper's intern to, in 2006, the magazine's editor in chief was even heralded in a New York Times profile, is departing. Hodge generally held steady, and was present for a significant and extremely forward-thinking web overhaul, despite some early troubles in his tenure. Ellen Rosenbush-the managing editor since 1989, five years before Hodge was an intern-has been named the acting editor.
Harper's was very angry under his stead. But angry in a really hot way that kind of turned me on.
I mean, there was plenty to be angry about, so maybe it was just being topical.
I agree!
I've really enjoyed their aggressive coverage of climate change of late.
And I love their weekly email, and their crazy website! Both him, no?
I will be curious to see where he goes.
If publications were capable of cognitive dissonance, Harper's would be my lover who lived in the South of France who I saw a few times a year and always gave me lots of what I wanted, rigorous intellectual discourse, and showed me some interesting art and could always back up what he was saying.
The New Yorker is my husband, I see all the time and is a little predictable, if comfortable though prone to expounding on things which may be a bit of his league, though occasionally coming through with an interesting point or wity line.
Interview is my fuck-buddy who comes back with great fashion tip, juicy gossip and insidery stuff, and bitchy one liners.
(sorry to rant, I really really love this magazine - thanks for this Choire!)
Wow! I thought he'd be a lifer.
The first job for his replacement should be doing something about the fucking address labels. They are IMPOSSIBLE to peel off.
It's a really sad turn of events for the magazine. However one feels about Harper's, it publishes long-form literary journalism of a sort that would be unlikely to find homes anywhere else, and has always been willing to give new writers a chance to do really ambitious projects. Hodge was a great steward of this tradition, and I worry that his ouster doesn't bode well for the future of this sort of writing. Who else would have let David Foster Wallace write 18,000 words about a luxury cruise?