I read a terrific gay short story by Colm Tóibín and wondered why it hadn’t been published in The New Yorker. He must be one of the best short story writers on the planet and some of his other works have appeared there. But I realized as I was reading “The Pearl Fishers” that it was far more sexual than most of his other work, describing rimming and cock sucking and priests wanting to “stuff” their penises up church boys’ bums, and also that I’d never read a frank description of sex in the pages of The New Yorker. Not sex of any kind, gay or straight. Decades after William Shawn, his influence lingers on.