This is my graveyard of New Yorker stories that were killed after being laboriously researched and written. It was the number of my stories killed that David Remnick in 2007 cited as the reason he wouldn’t renew my contract for a fourth time. I don’t find these very instructive because I cannot discern any difference in quality between these and those that ran to acclaim. Perhaps you’ll find them instructive.
And perhaps you’ll agree with Remnick. Maybe these are stinkers.