Obama

There was a profile of Barack Obama in the New Yorker early last year, which I read and loved. I read it again today (prompted by D, who reads this blog, funnily enough). It's a lovely piece of writing, and there's a sentence in it which is just so exquisite that I remember when I read it the first time, almost a year ago, I felt an almost physical pleasure. I'm sure you'll think I'm mad. She (It's Larissa MacFarquar) writes, nine pages into the profile:

When most politicians speak to a crowd, they give the impression that that is what they live for; Obama at town-hall meetings appears engaged but not fervently so, as if there were several other things that he would be equally happy doing that day.

It's perfect, isn't it?

(For the avoidance of doubt, I'm an Obama fan. A politician who can write! Whahey!)