I feel a little bit had by the "story" in this week's New Yorker

There was a time a 20 years back or so when I was books editor at the Providence Journal and some of the major publishers would send around at the beginning of each "season" a booklet, usually in magazine format, that had short excerpts from some of their major forthcoming books. These were really attractive and today maybe they have some collector's value - I remember reading the first pages of The Secret History in this format, and being blown away. And that was its sole purpose - to develop interest among critics and booksellers, and not through some fake bullshit buzz but from the quality and promise of the writing. Those days are gone in many ways. But what's up with the New Yorker, has it become, is it becoming the same kind of shill for publishers? I realize that the New Yorker does not explicitly publish "short stories" - they label it "fiction" - so excerpts from novels or other long-form works are within bounds. But still, shouldn't what they publish have some kind of form, architecture, beginning-middle-end, arc, or sense of an ending? Or are they just doing a publisher's bidding and touting a forthcoming book or upcoming author? This week's fiction is a case in point, and a really good case because I have to admit I was very taken by the writing and intrigued by the writer, about whom I know nothing, Akhil Sharma. Story feels quite autobiographical, narrated by a young man who immigrated to Queens from India when he was 8, and who's looking back on at least that segment of his childhood; he's the anti-Jhumpa Lahiri - his immigrant family is isolated, conservative, driven by finance (and status, through the intellectual accomplishments of their boy, esp the older brother). The writing is great - clear, odd, funny - for one example, the narrator and brother spend part of summer vacation visiting aunt in Virginia, and what particularly strikes the young boy is that the TV networks in Virginia are on different channels from NYC. That's a very real thing that a kid would note and that would make him realize he's in a different location - other stuff he'd barely notice. Anyway, something pretty dramatic, traumatic happens in the story and, instead of making anything of that event, Sharma just ends story abruptly - but obviously, he doesn't end story abruptly, his story, The Mistake, must be a lift from his forthcoming novel. It worked. I'm interested in his novel. But I feel a little bit had as well. NYorker - you're the leading literary magazine in the world, and the one w/ the most $, prestige, and connections. Can't you do better for your readers? Can't you find a story every week - 52 weeks a year (not counting your double editions, staff vacation on the subscribers' backs, if you ask me) - it's not that hard!