I teach at a University that does not trust its lecturers to choose their own textbooks, which sent me pillaging the New Yorker's online database of stories in late July, an act not far removed from slush-pile wading, as any non-Alice Munro, non-William Trevor fan can attest. Two stories from 2004, however, stand out as classics of the form, and since Michael Chabon didn't select them for Houghton Mifflin's Best American New Yorker Stories 2005 collection, I think I'll use my first blogging opportunity (thanks, guys) to nominate them for my own anthology of 2004's best stories. Jhumpa Lahiri's Hell-Heaven is actually more satisfying than any of the stories from her Pulitzer Prize-winning debut, and I mean that as nothing but a compliment. Judy Budnitz's Miracle, too, deserves inclusion in an anthology of classic short fiction, whatever the year.

Okay, they're a year and a half old, but so are all the stories in Best American. And if you want something newer, check out this week's issue for a completely enthralling, fascinating profile of Matthew Carter, the world's most famous (hold your breath) typographer. The long-form profile is perhaps the most reliably worthwhile feature of this flawed but still relevant magazine. There is an entire world of thought and philosophy contained in typeface, more pertinent to writers and the content of our work than we could ever imagine. But it's only in the print edition. Sorry.