it's got a great period photo of perfectly-clad punk. Which is right because it's about a young crew of wannabes who have a band, and it's written by Jennifer Egan who's got four novels, so it's a real surprise when almost every throwaway cultural reference is off--hasn't happened yet by that point or just isn't right--not to mention the voice sounds exactly like someone channeling Junie B. Jones at thirteen. So anyway, all this is getting so annoying I'm about to put it down and I look at the cartoon on that page and it's a couple riding along on the back of a dinosaur, and the woman says (no shit): "Can you stop complaining about the historical inaccuracy and try to enjoy yourself for one minute?" And OMG, this is a true twilight zone moment, and really, The New Yorker ought to hear about it, but I can't be bothered--I just wanted you to know.
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