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We at Harper’s Magazine deeply regret, on a personal and professional level, the death of Christopher Hitchens. Christopher was a friend to me and to the magazine for many years, especially during his time as Washington Editor from 1987 to 1992.
Lewis Lapham and I would surely concur that some of Christopher’s best work was written for Harper’s. Among our proudest collaborations were “The Case against Henry Kissinger,” which ran in two parts in 2001 and was published as a book later that year, and his brilliant analysis of President George H.W. Bush’s intervention in Iraq and Kuwait in 1991.
Journalism and politics aside, Christopher’s sense of humor was perhaps his greatest weapon, and I will personally miss his irony, generosity, and resilience of spirit.
We extend our condolences to his family and friends.
More from John R. MacArthur:
Publisher's Note — April 16, 2015, 3:51 pm
“Attributing white-on-black violence entirely to racism misses the larger problems that poorer people face in this country. They suffer a thousand cuts that never get talked about, except when the victims bleed to death.”
Publisher's Note — March 19, 2015, 4:05 pm
“Emanuel’s position in the local party is insecure because he was not raised in the machine, or, for that matter, in a working-class city neighborhood.”
Publisher's Note — February 26, 2015, 3:00 pm
“Houellebecq, who is neither radical nor left-wing, understands perfectly France’s political elites and its duped and disempowered electorate.”
Number of British women killed last fall by lightning conducted through their underwire bras:
British women wear heels for fifty-one years on average, from the ages of twelve to sixty-three.
Thousands of employees of McDonald’s protested outside the company’s headquarters near Chicago, demanding their wages be increased to $15 per hour. “I can’t afford any shoes,” said one employee in attendance, “and I want Versace heels.”
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“Shelby is waiting for something. He himself does not know what it is. When it comes he will either go back into the world from which he came, or sink out of sight in the morass of alcoholism or despair that has engulfed other vagrants.”