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Adam Gaffney, David U. Himmelstein, and Steffie Woolhandler
The Dismantling of American Health Care

We must resist Trump’s war on medical access and knowledge today, even as we prepare to rebuild something better tomorrow.

Casey A. Williams
‘The Red and the Green’

The Japanese philosopher Kohei Saito’s proposal for “degrowth communism” as a solution to the climate crisis has inspired fierce debate, including among other Marxists.

Peter Canby
Padre Marcelo’s Last March

For decades, an activist priest from Chiapas campaigned for the state’s indigenous poor and against the violence of its cartels. Last year, he himself was assassinated.

Ruth Bernard Yeazell
The Collector as Autocrat

Even as he assembled a world-class art collection, Albert C. Barnes always saw himself as an embattled underdog.

Free from the Archives

Since 2016 the cartoonist Chris Ware has been writing about art and comics for The New York Review, including essays about George Herriman’s Krazy Kat, Philip Guston’s rather pendulous caricatures of Richard Nixon, and, on May 26, 2017, the electrifying lines of Saul Steinberg, who first arrived in New York City eighty-three years ago this month. “Steinberg’s images grow and even live on the page,” wrote Ware. “Somewhere in the viewing of a Steinberg drawing the reader follows not only his line, but also his line of thought.”

In the fall of 2014, Jeet Heer visited Ware at his home in Oak Park, Illinois, just west of Chicago, to interview him for The Paris Review. They discussed Peanuts, his “firecracker” mother, the look of midcentury broadcast TV, the lessons of art school, and much else besides.

Both the interview and Ware’s essay about Steinberg are available to read for free as part of a special offer with our friends at The Paris Review. If you enjoy the pairing, consider subscribing to both publications for only $119—37 percent off the regular price!

Chris Ware
Saul Steinberg’s View of the World

“Steinberg does not resort to the cliché of lit windows stretching into the sky; instead, his buildings sink into the horizon, not so much looking like Manhattan in the moonlight as feeling like the metallic, acidic impression of wet moonlit pavement.”

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