Yet another story about New Yorkers?: But this one is different, insightful, surprising

Very good somewhat long story, The Beach Boy, by Ottessa Mossfegh, in current New Yorker - a story that initially appears to be about a Central Park West professional couple, childless in their 50s, the man a dermatologist, who superficially appear to have all the privileges of wealth and comfort and friendship and a good marriage, about whom, over the course of the story (I won't give too much away) experience sudden loss through which the man awkwardly confronts some of the truths about the hollowness of his life and about his repressed homosexual desires. Mossfegh does a great job sketching in the characters - it's not that easy to portray shallow and rather unlikable characters while maintaining sympathy, or empathy, for them and not being snide or ironic, but she (?) manages to do so with great tact and balance. The heart of the story is the memory of the couple's recent trip to a Caribbean (I think) island, her condescending attitude toward the people and the culture and his odd fascination with the young male prostitutes who cluster around the hotels and beaches. At the end of the story he returns to the setting, unclear about his motives - which are pretty clear to us - and of course his visit ends in disaster and shame, though not exactly as you'd expect. I don't know anything about this author, but hope to see more work by her: the writing is calm and assured and scathingly observant, she takes on the issues of class and privilege without being heavy-handed or polemical, and, though I think there's a super-abundance of fiction about upscale New Yorkers, this story presents a slightly new slant on the familiar terrain by its shift to an older and seemingly more demure generation (and borough).