
"Books about poverty tend to be books about the poor," the sociologist Matthew Desmond writes in "Poverty, by America" (Crown). That's true whether the motivation is to blame the poor for their lot-chronicling the supposed pathologies creating a "culture of poverty"-or, more commonly nowadays, to generate empathy via detailed ethnographies of survival and agency amid deprivation. It was true of the first books that set out to systematically map and measure poverty, such as the Victorian reformer Charles Booth's seventeen-volume "Life and Labour of the People in London," and of Progressive Era attempts to rattle the consciences of the well-off, like Jacob Riis's document of New York tenement life, "How the Other Half Lives."
This story is from the March 20, 2023 edition of The New Yorker.
Subscribe to Magzter GOLD to access thousands of curated premium stories, and 8,000+ magazines and newspapers.
Already a subscriber? Sign in
This story is from the March 20, 2023 edition of The New Yorker.
Subscribe to Magzter GOLD to access thousands of curated premium stories, and 8,000+ magazines and newspapers.
Already a subscriber? Sign in

UNINTENDED CONSEQUENCES
\"Inside\" and \"What the Hell Happened to Blood, Sweat & Tears?\"

HIVE MIND
\"Swarm,\" on Prime Video.

GEORGIA ON OUR MIND
The musical \"Parade\" revisits the charged trial of Leo Frank.

GHOSTS ON THE STAGE
Pina Bausch's legacy.

SEEING THINGS
Sebastian Barry's Irish marvels.

COSTUME DRAMA
J. Crew and the paradoxes of prep.

Minority Report
I dream often of a man I knew more than thirty years ago. When I say “knew,” that is not accurate; I barely I than thirty years ago. When I say “knew,” that is not accurate; I barely knew him at all.

PINS AND NEEDLES
How Demna engineered the rise— and near-fall—of the house of Balenciaga.

DRAWING BOARD
The graphic designer Milton Glaser made America cool again.

PLEASE INVITE ME TO YOUR PARTY
I’m a great guest. For one, I will appreciate all your deep cleaning. The baseboards you scrubbed, the silverware you polished to a high gleam, the corners you awkwardly maneuvered the Swiffer into, to sweep the last crumbs and bits of cat hair out of sight.