At its core, a column is a personalized perspective on the world. It’s where a writer takes a stand on school board politics, laments the death of the local diner, or shares a hilarious parenting fail. This isn’t objective reporting; it’s a crafted argument wrapped in narrative.
Great columns walk a tightrope. They must be informative enough to teach you something new, yet entertaining enough to make you forget you’re reading. The best ones feel like overhearing a wise, witty friend hold court at a dinner party.
Think of David Sedaris dissecting a trip to the DMV or Molly Ivins taking down a Texas politician with a single, devastating simile. That’s the craft—making the personal feel universal, and the universal feel personal.
Why We Still Love the Format
In an age of fleeting tweets and AI-generated summaries, the column offers depth with a human voice. It’s a commitment. You don’t skim a column; you settle into its rhythm. It demands a few minutes of your undivided attention.
There’s also a ritualistic comfort to it. For decades, people have turned to the same columnists—from Erma Bombeck’s suburban satire to Anna Quindlen’s thoughtful essays—as a way to understand their own lives. It’s a signpost in a chaotic week.
Fun fact: The oldest continuously published column in the U.S. is probably “Dear Abby,” which started in 1956. That’s nearly 70 years of giving advice on in-laws and laundry. Some columns become cultural institutions.
