Apparently I can subscribe to The New Yorker digitally. It would arrive in my inbox on Monday, appear just like the printed magazine, and cost $40 a year.

“You should get it!” Taxman told me. “It will make you happy!”

But will it?

Part of the beauty of a physical magazine subscription is reading it on Shabbat or Yom Tov; toting it to read in the park while the kids play; letting it stack up while I read novels and then diving into the pile, searching for articles by my favorite staff writers and regular contributors: Gawande, Groopman, Sacks, Mead, McPhee, Angell.

So, yeah, silver lining. But I’m…undecided.