Murdoch, for all his lack of an inner life, at least in this book, is an extremely engaging man to listen to. At investor conferences where other media titans drone on defensively, he is far and away the most fearless and factual. But not here. Wolff, who has the columnist’s tic of being far too struck by the fragrance of his own prose, draws attention to the Boswell at the expense of the Johnson.[emph mine]
Wolff remains true to his nature, which is joyously nasty. It is a baked-in reflex of a kind that Trollope described: “His satire springs rather from his own caustic nature than from the sins of the world in which he lives.”
Here's another Carr introduction to one of Wolff's many lapses in accuracy and honesty:
Historically, one of the problems with Wolff’s omniscience is that while he may know all, he gets some of it wrong.And then proceeds to shred any scintilla remaining of Wolff's "integrity as a reporter," of which he famously has none.
The reason for Wolff's persistent nitwittery and inaccuracy becomes clear in a later graph:
And Wolff also writes that The New York Times canceled a series on Murdoch after two articles were attacked by News Corp. Only two articles were scheduled, and none were canceled, according to the paper’s editors. Wolff prefers the purity of his constructs — one of which is that The Times is a deeply flawed artifact that is doomed to be crushed by the more nimble, less morally constricted Murdoch.
Und so weiter und so fort. Wolff's yapping lapdog attacks on Murdoch are effortlessly put down by Carr and the link above will demonstrate that the NYT, despite many lapses, still has enough self respect to impale an impostor like Wolff despite the fact that Murdoch is no friend of the Times. Wolff will predictably reply by saying that Carr is cadging for a job with Rupert's flagship newspaper in NYC, but I applaud the Sunday Book Review editor for putting Carr's putdown of the scurrilous narcissist Wolff right on the front page.