Showing posts with label New York City. Show all posts
Showing posts with label New York City. Show all posts

Saturday, November 16, 2024

Here Is New York

White, E. B. Here Is New York. New York: Little Bookroom. 1949. Print.



First Sentences:
 
On any person who desires such queer prizes, New York will bestow the gift of loneliness and the gift of privacy....for the residents of Manhattan are to a large extent strangers who have pulled up stakes somewhere and come to town, seeking sanctuary or fulfillment or some greater or lesser grail. The capacity to make such dubious gifts is a mysterious quality of New York.


Description:

Unless you live in New York City or very much enjoy visiting this delightful, challenging city, you might think you would have little interest in reading E.B. White's Here Is New York from his 1949 summer living in the city.  But you would be so very wrong. 

White is a magnificent writer, a quiet observer relating to us lucky readers his thoughts about the sights, sounds, people, and even the air of New York. And rather than me try to convince you of value of this short book/essay (only 56 pages), I'll just present some quotes from White and let you judge for yourself.
  • New York blends the gift of privacy with the excitement of participation; and better than most dense communities it succeeds in insulating the individual (if he wants it, and almost everybody wants or needs it) against all enormous and violent and wonderful events that are taking place every minute.
  •  I heard the Queen Mary blow one midnight, though, and the sound carried the whole history of departure and longing and loss.
  •  Many people who have no real independence of spirit depend on the city's tremendous variety and sources of excitement for spiritual sustenance and maintenance of morale.
  •  Not many [commuters] have ever spent a drowsy afternoon in the great rustling oaken silence of the reading room of the Public Library, with the book elevator (like an old water wheel) spewing out books onto trays.
  •  The city makes up for its hazards and its deficiencies by supplying its citizens with massive doses of a supplementary vitamin -- the sense of belonging to something unique, cosmopolitan, mighty and unparalleled.
  •  On a summer night the [Bowery] drunks sleep in the open. The sidewalk is a free bed, and there are not lice. Pedestrians step along and over and around the still forms as though walking on a battlefield among the dead.
  • New York is not a capital city -- it is not a national capital or a state capital. But it is by way of becoming the capital of the world. 
Well, there it is for you. By now, you'll either love these wonderful descriptions of a uniquely complicated city (as I do) and want to visit it or at least read more about it. Or you will have had enough and are ready to move on to some other diversion. Your choice. But with E.B. White as your guide, how can you go wrong at least reading his brief essay, This Is New York
The city is uncomfortable and inconvenient, but New Yorkers temperamentally do not crave comfort and convenience -- if they did they would live elsewhere

[If this book interests you, be sure to check out:] 
  
Hayes, Bill. Insomniac City  
The thoughts of the author as he wanders the streets of New York City in the late night hours, including the people he meets, the restaurants he visits, and the quiet, dark sights he enjoys.
  

Happy reading.


Fred

Find More Book Recommendations - along with an Introduction to The First Sentence Reader.



 

Tuesday, January 2, 2024

Apple of My Eye

Hanff, Helene. Apple of My Eye. New York: Doubleday 1978. Print.



First Sentences:

On April Fool's Day, I came home from a meeting with a publisher, hurried through my apartment-house lobby and told all the tenants waiting at the elevator:
"I've got the dream assignment of all time! I'm going to write copy for a book of photographs of New York City."

Description:

Sure, author Helene Hanff is rightfully excited to land the plum assignment to write the text for a book of photos of New York City. The pictures will be of the famous sites in the city: the Statue of Liberty, Radio City Music Hall, Rockefeller Center, Grand Central Station, the Cloisters, Grant's Tomb, etc.

But there is one problem: Hanff, a born and raised New Yorker, has never visited any of these famous sites. So nothing would do but grab onto her friend Patsy, (someone who also has not seen these destinations) and set out to visit, observe, and take notes on the intriguing aspects of each location. The result of their frantic tour around New York in 1975 is the delightful, insightful book, Apple of My Eye, a tour-de-force that I highly recommend for any one interested in witty writing, overwhelmed tourists, and, of course, New York's iconic attractions.

With little money and no maps (or ones they were unable to decipher), the two women ride buses or walk to take in all the scenery tourists might come across, poking their heads into small restaurants, shops, and historic markers along the way. They refused to ride subways since that underground experience would rob tourists of the views of the city. 
Going from Grant's Tomb to Zabar's was going from the sublime to the ridiculous or from the ridiculous to the sublime, I'll never be sure which.
They are game to see everything, but their acrophobia make them very hesitant to take the elevator to the top of the Statue of Liberty and the new-opened twin towers of the World Trade Center. (It was quite a shock to read about these towers from a New Yorker's perspective in 1975):
Throughout its construction, the World Trade Center was cordially detested by all New Yorkers. The unpopular Rockefeller brothers were so closely involved in the financing that for a while the twin towers were knows as Nelson and David....the financially desperate city didn't need two new 110-story office buildings and couldn't afford to supply them with services.
But later, when they had swallowed their acrophobia and made it to the Tower's Observation Deck, Hanff felt differently:
And suddenly, irrationally, I gloried in the highhanded, high-flying damn-your-eyes audacity that had sent the Trade Center's twin columns rising impudently above the skyline at the moment when New York was declared to be dying, and so deep in debt it couldn't afford workers to dispose of the Center's trash, police its plaza or put out its fires.
Of course, Hanff and Patsy have their differences. Hanff, who has done copious research, constantly quotes "interesting" statistics and detailed stories to a non-listening Patsy, while her friend is constantly worried that Hanff will not include items in the book that might attract tourists. Their dialogue in Battery Park is typical of their back-and-fourth exchanges:
[Hanff] "President Washington," I told Patsy -- though I knew from experience that the minute you start a sentence with "President Washington," everybody stops listening -- "used to stroll here on summer evenings with his wife and the members of the Cabinet..."
[Patsy] Who's on this slab? Did you write him down? Who's on that slab over there? Did you read this one? Write it down. You're not writing anything down....I think you're being very haphazard about this...Somewhere in this book you'd better write: "Everything in this book is half-accurate."
When they drink coffee outside the Metropolitan of Art, Hanff sits with her back to the museum "Which is he only way I will ever consent to sit." You see, Hanff is bitter that the Met takes up space "torn out of Central Park, which does not belong to the Metropolitan Museum of Art, it belongs to me. Me and a million other New Yorkers..."

They have judgmental observations about the people of New York as well:
West Siders look dowdy, scholarly, and slightly down-at-heel, and the look has nothing to do with money. They look like what a great many of them are: scholars, intellectuals, dedicated professionals, all of whom regard shopping for clothes as a colossal waster of time.
Witty, informative, personable, and always slyly funny. As a bonus, it's wonderful to see photos from that year of Central Park's model sailboat pond, the cable car over the East River to Roosevelt Island, Grand Central Station, the Metropolitan Opera House, St. Patrick's Cathedral, and yes, sadly, the World Trade Center towers. A wonderful overview of the city to accompany Hanff's text.

Hanff is the author of 84, Charing Cross Road, the epistolary story of her correspondence with a rare book dealer in London as she tries to procure obscure editions of favorite books. She is a very skilled wordsmith, someone you want to listen to forever as she reels off stories, demands, confusion, and self-reflection, all in witty, personable manner that makes you want to hear more and more.

I really love Apple of My Eye, especially since I have spent time in New York City over the past few years. Her descriptions of places I have seen, entered, or at least walked by struck a note that supported the idea that this is a great city during any age. And for anyone not familiar with New York, well, here's your chance to read all about it as you walk along side with Patsy and Hanff in their delightful explorations and observations.
 
Happy reading. 
____________________

If this book interests you, be sure to check out:

Hayes, Bill. Insomniac City  
Author Hayes, newly moved to New York City after the death of his partner, loves wandering his new city late at night, talking with people, observing the world, and photographing the heart of New York, then sharing his thoughts with us lucky readers. Wonderful. (previously reviewed here)

Wednesday, June 30, 2021

Insomniac City

Hayes, Bill. Insomniac City. New York: Bloomsbury, 2017. Print


First Sentences:

I moved to New York eight years ago, and felt at once at home. 
 
In the haggard buildings and bloodshot skies, in trains that never stopped running like my racing mind at night, I recognized my insomniac self. If New York were a patient, it would be diagnosed with agrypnia excita, a rare genetic condition characterized by insomnia, nervous energy constant twitching, and dream enactment -- an apt description of a city that never sleeps, a place where one comes to reinvent himself.


Description:

From these very first words, I loved Bill Hayes's Insomniac City: New York, Oliver, and Me  Who could not fall in love with such captivating language to describe a unique environment? Clearly, this book promised to be full of wry, thoughtful and unique observations, so I was all in.
 
Author Hayes moved to New York from San Francisco after the sudden death of his long-time partner, Steve. As an insomniac, Hayes began to wander his new city in the late and early morning hours, both observing and conversing with people who were similarly sleep-challenged.
In the summertime, late into the night, some leave behind their sweat-dampened sheets to read in the coolness of a park under streetlights. Not Kindles, mind you, or iPhones. But books,. Newspapers, Novels. Poetry. Completely absorbed as if in their own worlds. And indeed they are.

Hayes also brought along his camera, his "travel companion," during day and night city walks. He shot photos of people for his own private enjoyment. Unwilling to intrude on some intimate scenes, Hayes shot body parts that reflected the person's essence.

Couples captivated me -- on the Tube, on park benches, arm in arm on the street. Couples so in love you could see it in their faces....Their smiles were heartbreaking. I took pictures of their hands, laced together as if in prayer, or their feet -- the erotic dance that is a prelude to a kiss.

Hayes records these episodic meetings, observations, and photos in his diary, entries which he compiles into Insomniac City. And oh, the joy, hope, and humanity each piece presents to us lucky readers fortunate enough to share his everyday sights, elegant writing, and imagery. 

Sometimes I'd sit in the kitchen in the dark and gaze out at the Empire State and Chrysler buildings. Such a beautiful pair, so impeccably dressed, he in his boxy suits, every night a different hue, and she, an arm's length away, in her filigreed skirt the color of the moon. I regarded them as an old married couple, calmly unblinkingly keeping watch over one of their newest sons. And I returned the favor; I would be there the moment the Empire State turned off its lights for the night as if to get a little shut-eye before sunrise.

But there is yet another part of this wonderful book besides late night observations and photographs. Hayes meets Dr. Oliver Sacks, the neurologist and best-selling author. The two men connect and become romantic partners, a first for Sacks in decades. Their loving relationship is also reflected on in Hayes' diary as he records bits of their conversations, random thoughts from Sacks, and a peak at the new life they spend together.

...last night the clock chimed,..O[liver] and I counted the chimes carefully. A big smile broke out on his face. "Oh! That's very eccentric! Earlier, it did ten chimes at four o'clock, and now, seven at nine."

We laughed how this is like having an aging parent in the house, one who's a little "dotty," gets a little lost, misremembers, from time to time ... 

I could keep on giving examples of Hayes' narrations, but I have to stop and leave so many more for you to experience. Suffice to say, I fell in love with both these men, New York City, and the beauty of descriptive writing that will stay with me for a long time. Highest recommendation.

I have come to believe that kindness is repaid in unexpected ways and that if you are lonely or bone-tired or blue, you need only come down from your perch and step outside. New York -- which is to say, New Yorkers -- will take care of you.

____________________

If this book interests you, be sure to check out:

Highly unusual cases recorded and commented on by Sacks, detailing his experiences in a New York neurology clinic depict some of his patient' symptoms and treatment, including: a man with no recollection of any events in the last sixty years; a man who cannot recognize faces (including his own); an autistic, but brilliantly gifted artist; a woman who has Irish songs from her childhood constantly running through her head; and of course, the title character who grabbed his wife's head and tried to put it on his own head. Incredible, readable, and wonderfully entertaining as you try to imagine the reality of these patients.