Although Deborah Treisman, the new Fiction Editor at The New Yorker, is expected to publish “a raft of new writers” and less Eurocentric fiction, she’s no more likely to dig into the slush pile than her predecessor. (Link via Moorish Girl and the Literary Saloon.)
The Literary Saloon challenges this approach, arguing that:
the channels Treisman says lead to publication — agented submissions and recommendations/discoveries by literary acquaintances (i.e. nepotism) seem to us the worst sort of ways to find worthy literature. But it seems to work for The New Yorker . . .
As a rule, I haven’t submitted to major big guns like The New Yorker (although I should admit that I once submitted to Zoetrope: All Story and received a kind response and detailed critique with the rejection slip).
Still, Treisman’s approach strikes me as an unfortunate if unsurprising one.