A posthumous debut novel - wry, wise, and outrageous - from award-winning journalist Michael Hastings, based on his experiences working for Newsweek
The year is 2002. Weekly news magazines dominate the political agenda in New York and Washington. A young journalist named Michael M. Hastings is an intern at The Magazine, wet behind the ears, the only one in the office who has actually read his coworkers' books. He will stop at nothing to turn his internship into a full-time position and has figured out just who to impress: Nishant Patel, the international editor, and Sanders Berman, managing editor - both vying for the job of editor-in-chief. While Berman and Nishant try to one-up each other pontificating on cable news, A. E. Peoria - the one reporter seemingly doing any work - is having a career crisis. He has just returned from Chad, where instead of reporting on the genocide, he was told by his editors to focus on mobile-phone outsourcing, as it's more relevant. Then suddenly, the United States invades Iraq - and all hell breaks loose.
As Hastings loses his naïveté about the journalism game, he must choose where his loyalties lie: With the men at The Magazinewho can advance his career or with his friend in the field who is reporting the truth.
The Last Magazine is the debut novel from Michael Hastings, discovered in his files after his death in June 2013. Based on Hastings' own experiences, it is funny, sharp, and fast-paced, a great book about the news game's final days in the tradition of Evelyn Waugh's Scoop, Hunter S. Thompson's The Rum Diary, and Calvin Trillin's Floater.
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CURRENT and ENERGY that is hard to contain
- Darwin8u "I write for myself, for my own pleasure. And I want to be left alone to do it. - Salinger ^(;,;)^"
An amusing, telling epitaph.
The humourous responses to the seriousness of a news magazine. In particular the alcohol, drugged antics of the foreign correspondent.
Any of the people would be most intersting. The high power people of the press make good dinner dates.
The trip to NY in first class is hilareous.
- Gerald S. Gold "avid fan"