> / dave /
I think Young went back to England and writes there. I never thought much of the guy -- too self-involved and not a very good analyst of pop cult. (Of course, Burchill too was self-involved, still is, it seems, but her work was funny if all over the place.)
Burchill went dyke and, with girlfriend Charlotte Raven, took over the Review, which was on the verge of collapse anyway. I was on the edge of this crowd for a time -- met with the American editors for drinks and submitted ideas, but it was a very in-group. I recall the Review's American party in NY. Young, short, stocky, crew-cutted, standing outside the building, asking everyone who entered who they were. Inside, a small gaggle of hacks clustered around James Wolcott, kissing his large ass in the center of the room. Very dismal. The mag folded not long after.
DP