Book

The commercial strips of the neighborhoods of New York City are the lifeblood of the community and city at large. It is where the action is. People shop, stroll, and mingle on the street. In warm weather men often pull up chairs, to discuss the day’s events in front of their local barbershop, with the twirling barbershop poll acting as a beacon in the background. While bodegas with their blinking colored signs often seem to host a never ending domino game in front of their storefronts. And corner candy stores are magnates for youngsters, tossing balls or cruising on skateboards. Teenage hoods hang out too but at curbside with cigarettes in their mouths. The commercial strips of the neighborhood of the city are a microcosm of the city itself. You can feel the life and energy in front of many storefronts. The social community that is organized around the business district help gauge the health of the neighborhood. Commercial strips are fluid entities and change like a river. In one generation the street may be lined with mom and pop businesses: a bread store, dry cleaner and an Italian deli with meats hanging in the window, while in latter generations the street may change many times over. In Park Slope, where I live, I have witnessed one storefront after another close, because the next generation did not want to continue in the family business.

In the time that I have lived in my neighborhood, I have seen the closing of many storefronts. Some close up shop because storeowners want to make a big buck as developers greedily eye the strip and think of tearing down and building anew, while others can’t bear the thought of having an outsider running their business, choosing instead to shut down their business that was instrumental in supporting their family. Remnants of the old sign of the business are often buried under the new signage, sometimes it is visible: a shadow on the wall where the letters were once placed or painted words that peak out from under the new sign and sometimes you can even see hints of where the neon tubing was attached. Or in the case of Garry Jewelers on 5th Ave, in my neighborhood, it is the name Garry in a smooth mosaic tile on the ground, at the entryway. The neon of Garry Jewelers is still there, but now it is always dark and it is only a matter of time until this beautiful sign, established in 1951, finds its way to the junk heap.

Please join the authors of Store Front James T & Karla L. Murray as they present a slide lecture on the Disappearing Store Fronts of New York City on Monday, Oct 26th at 6:30 PM on the 6th floor of the Mid-Manhattan Library.

Images from: http://www.jamesandkarlamurray.com/JamesandKarlaMurraySTOREFRONT.html

Almost 30 years ago, my husband and I stood on a corner in Brooklyn, to watch the New York City Marathon. We were essentially alone watching the runners on that cool fall day so long ago. We watched, as a trickle of runners became thousands of runners, coursing through the streets of New York City, eventually to the large fanfare that would greet them in Manhattan along 1st Ave, Central Park South and in Central Park itself at the finish line.

Since that day, I have watched a lot of NYC marathons. I live on a street that is steps away from 4th Ave, the long stretch the runners hit as they come off the Verrazano’s Bridge. I leave my house early, grab a spot next to a traffic light on my corner, I place a step stool at the base. I bring a warm drink and I sit on the stool and wait. It will be hours before the main body of runners come. I cheer and clap as the early starters pass my spot. Sporadically, a few at a time come by, often with guides by their sides. I think about the commitment it takes to undertake such a feat. Soon my corner where I have set myself up becomes incredibly crowded. Police try to hold back the crowd, as spectators lean out far into the street to catch a glimpse. I now stand on my stool and over the heads of others; I can watch the mass of runners pour down the avenue better than anyone else. I scream, clap and shout the runners names who have them affixed to their jerseys. I become overcome with emotion and sometimes my eyes tear up. The sea of bobbing bodies that is the New York City Marathon, is my favorite event of the year.

What draws me to watch the NYC marathon year after year is the simplicity of the event. It is a footrace where runners take to the streets of New York, running an incredible distance, touching a foot in each of the boroughs to complete the race in the fastest time possible. On the surface that’s all there is to it and it’s free to watch. But it is the stark reality of a 26 mile race juxtaposed against the stories of each and every runner: from the elite runners to the everyday runners, some of whom just might be your neighbors, which make marathon watching such a pleasure. I often wonder what it would be like to inch my way forward to a finish line I could not even see, even if all 26 miles were laid out in a straight line right in front of me. Roughly 30 thousand runners from all over the world take part in the race every year. And every year I marvel at the beauty of the mass of runners as they come barreling down past my lamppost where I stand atop my stool. Arms raised, hands waving, I scream at the runners to forge ahead to the end and with joyful eyes and sometimes with shouts of enthusiasm of their own, the runners answer back and in an instant a bond is formed. On that day a part of them is in me and I in them, as I cheer to heavens “COME ON RUNNERS…YOU CAN DO IT….RUN, RUN, RUN…YOU ARE BEAUTIFUL!!!!”

Liz Robbins, author A Race Like No Other, presented a program on the New York City Marathon at the Mid-Manhattan Library on Tuesday October 13th. Liz revealed that the reason why the New York City Marathon is so successful and different from any other marathon is that the race is in the streets of New York, a city of people. Two million race watchers line the street to watch the runners. And runners will testify to what a joy and pleasure it is to run through the neighborhoods, with people cheering, handing out water and marching bands playing music for them. The runners feed off the good energy of the spectators. And there is no race in the world that best does this than the New York City Marathon. During the program Liz asked some of the audience members who had ran the marathon before to talk about what it is like to run this race. Feelings of joy, accomplishment and camaraderie were touched up, as well as debilitating pain. What I found interesting is some participants in the audience did not consider themselves athletes. They took up running late in life, though now they are committed runners, with some having run in hundreds of marathons already.

Lisa Peterson-de Cueva attended Tuesday night's program and posted about the event on her blog.

I am embarrassed to say but up until a week ago, I had never read The Great Gatsby. I had never been assigned to read it in school and frankly over the years I never wanted to read it. I actually had developed an aversion of sorts to the book. This was founded on nothing more than air. Seems strange but I can develop an instant dislike to anything based on nothing and unfortunately have it flavor my feelings for a book and for that matter, a movie, type of cuisine, a neighborhood and finally something as innocent as a public beach, sadly almost anything.

Fortunately no one ever as asked me about the book and so I did not have to reveal my completely unfounded, unintelligent, biased opinion about a book I never read. Until that is my boss at the time Rene Kotler made reference to The Great Gatsby when we were in conversation. She then looked to me for a response and I had to admit that I never read the book. Rene looked at me sideways and said “You have never read The Great Gatsby?!?!” I could feel my cheeks turn red and I made a lame excuse and then boldly told her I actually had no interest in ever reading it. Incredulous and shocked, she shook her head. She then went into an emphatic defense of why the book is so good and should be read by me, “It is really a love story more than anything else, a truly passionate love story… you would love it. Trust me you will.” That was in the summer of 08 and I thought a bit about The Great Gatsby after our talk and put it in on my mental list of books I would read one day. However, I still had an uneasy feeling about the book despite the glowing recommendation of Rene, a woman I like and respect. One year later I still had not read The Great Gatsby but it was on my mental list. It was July and I happen to be in the car driving to the Rockaways to spend a glorious day at the beach. It was a Saturday morning around 10:00 and I was listening to WNYC. The radio show about to begin was NPR’s Studio 360 and on that day the show was to be devoted to F. Scott Fitzgerald's The Great Gatsby. When I heard this, I turned the volume up a bit more, ready and interested to listen. It was a wonderful broadcast. On one of the segments, writer Jonathan Franzen was interviewed about his feelings on The Great Gatsby. It was at this point that all the bad feelings I had about the book went away. The entire show was very good but it was Franzen’s remarks about The Great Gatsby that singlehandedly changed my feelings about this American classic. After listening to the show, I knew shortly I would be reading The Great Gatsby.

Now it is September and I have just finished the book. After hearing The Great Gatsby broadcast on Studio 360, I knew that I was in store for a treat. From the very first page, I was pulled into the book. The story is a good one, but more importantly it is Fitzgerald’s deft command of the written word to tell the story that is dazzling. The writing is so powerfully good. In some passages it is one phrase after another, a confluence of words and rhythm, creating a lexiconal beauty that is magical to experience, as line after line unfolds before your eyes. Some passages warrant a re-reading because the language is so tight, poignant and light, almost ethereal. The Great Gatsby was far greater than I ever could have imagined.

Below is one passage that made me pause…

“He smiled understandingly—much more than understandingly. It was one of those rare smiles with a quality of eternal reassurance in it, that you may come across four or five times in a life. It faced—or seemed to face—the whole external world for an instant, and then concentrated on you with an irresistible prejudice in your favor. It understood you just so far as you wanted to be understood, believed in you as much as you would like to believe in yourself and assured you that it had precisely the impression of you that, at your best, you hoped to convey.” (from chapt.3)

It is odd that I was able to miss out on reading The Great Gatsby all these years. It was simply chance. Honestly though had I been assigned to read it in high school or college, I think I might have liked the book, but not fell in love with it the way I have now, after just reading it. There are many things I would have missed: the nuances, the imagery and the shifts in tone, the wonderful construction and the important social history displayed within the pages. Had I read it many, many years ago The Great Gatsby may have just been a good book and nothing more to me and that would have been a crime. I am actually thankful that somehow I missed out on this American masterpiece all these years until now. I actually feel fortunate to have read The Great Gatsby at this point in my life, many years later than most have read it.

Now when someone makes reference to The Great Gatsby and looks to me for a response, I will be able to add my two cents based proudly on the fact that I have actually read the book.

And another beautiful passage...

“…Out of the corner of his eye Gatsby saw that the blocks of the sidewalk really formed a ladder and mounted to a secret place above the trees---he could climb to it, if he climbed alone, and once there he could suck on the pap of life, gulp down the incomparable milk of wonder.” (from chapt. 6)

New York City is a big place, very big. The aggregate information out there to describe the city is also big, very big. Its vast, ubiquitous quality makes it seem unknowable and unmanageable. Much of our knowledge about the city is in small bits and pieces, mostly unrelated to each other. Many us may generally know a thing or two about our neighborhood: we may know who lives there, we may even know something about the crime stats or the average price of a co-op. Other than the of odd pieces of knowledge we carry around with us about New York City, the real numbers of the city are essentially a blank in our heads. Outside the fiendishly organized grid of Midtown, New York City is very hard to describe, from the attendance at the major cultural institutions to the most dangerous intersections for pedestrians between 1995-2001. The information is simply too complex for it to be easily accessed.

Many of the librarians at the reference desk consult online or bound references for statistics. A lot of the information is general in nature. For information specific to New York City there is the NYC government website but the information is not readily transparent. Not until the Almanac of New York City was published was there a source unique to New York. Answering questions about New York City was always a complicated challenge. The simplest question requires a multi-step process to get an answer. And the hope is you don’t lose the patron’s interest as you guide them through the labyrinthine process. There is the New York City website, as well the Green Book to direct people where to get further information. United States census has information and then you can even contact your local community board for information related to specific neighborhoods, but all the searches are an involved process.

The Almanac of New York City is unique because it is filled with information that is entertaining as well as informative. It is a comprehensive collection of the information on our city. For example, The Almanac lists the Gravesites of Celebrated Persons as well as the populations of the public housing projects. It also has the names all the winners of the NYC Marathon, as well as the number of seats in each Broadway theatre. It’s the type of book you want handy for a bit arcane knowledge about the city and also the type of book you want to have along side your cereal bowl in the morning to simply wander through as you dig into your oatmeal and berries.

Please join editors Kenneth T. Jackson and Fred Kameny of the Almanac of the New York City on Wednesday April 15th at 6:30 PM, at the Mid-Manhattan Library as they talk about the numbers of New York City

Test your New York Trivial knowledge.

It starts as an almost imperceptible rumble, and then ends with a societal cry of pain. As you read, the tension builds, you become unsettled where you sit; something sinister is afoot. Your eyes willingly travel the lines of the page, the scene is being set, just the right amount of description, a perfect staccato rhythm of words and phrases, resulting in a broiling image of disarray and disorganization. Something dangerous is in the air. Soon it will be upon you, your mind will be filled with a cacophony of shouts and screams, slivers of conversation, slices of pandemonium. Reading further, you discover twisted limbs in grotesque positions, bloodied faces, cruel intentions and inflictions of pain done by one stranger to another. You wince and hope the world you are reading about will once again become civilized and safe. This is a riot, a mob scene, people out of control, people caught up in the moment, murder and rape are happening in the same place where people walked calmly earlier in the day. This can’t be happening, should not be happening but it is happening convincingly so in Dennis Lehane’s new book The Given Day.

I recently finished The Given Day, after patiently waiting for a period of time for the book to come into the library. The Given Day is a big story, with multiple plot lines; the backdrop is Boston in the early 20th century, right after WWI. It is set against the rising tension of an underpaid and overworked police force striving to get their fair share of the salary pie.

Corruption, disasters and terrorism, fear of communism and unbridled racism is the fabric of which this story is woven. Relationships are built while others are destroyed. Betrayal and loyalty are constantly played against each other. This is an epic, a labyrinthine story, culminating in a riot scene that is a turning point in the book. Lehane’s handling of the riot is violent, raw, ugly and real. The impact was such that I found myself rereading passages, so captivating is Lehane’s rendering of such a tragic situation. The Given Day is well worth the 700 plus pages it takes Lehane to tell his story. And for me the riot scenes are the most memorable.

As an aside, there are two other books I was reminded of while reading The Given Day. They too contain very vivid and powerful riot scenes: Nathaniel West’s The Day of Locust and Emile Zola’s Germinal. Both left an indelible mark in my memory, for many reasons one of which is the depiction of human behavior when restraint is no where to be found.

Please join us at the Mid-Manhattan on Tuesday April 7 at 6:30, on the 6th floor, where Dennis Lehane will be talking about The Given Day.

By the time I was old enough to understand the relationship between food and culture, it was already too late for me. It seemed like food and culture and the relationship between the two all but died where I came from. I lived in Detroit up until the riots of '68 and then afterwards my family moved to a rural landscape. In a very short time farmland became a busy bustling series of suburbs. It was one massive series of highways, subdivisions and strip malls. If there was any local food identity or culture it was all but eaten up in chain establishments.

Chains took over where mom and pop food businesses reined, long standing food venues where shuttered closed. My father, who was a waiter, worked in one of the finest restaurants in the city of Detroit. In the 1970s the once solidly established restaurant scene tried to hold on during tornado like changes, my father was relegated to wearing a long white apron and plain white shirt with the sleeves rolled up (no more tux and bowtie) and serving lousy pizza to patrons, who sat at tables covered in red and white checkered tablecloths. The once revered Caucus Club stood out like a sore thumb with new blinky lights beckoning customers to come in.

It wasn’t till I moved to New York that I discovered a deeply rich tradition of food culture, both formal and informal. From my favorite local French restaurant Moutard to the summer time street fairs in the Italian neighborhoods, the culture of food thrives in New York City. Food is so alive in this city that everything seems to be centered around the table, be it at a beloved restaurant or at a friend’s house for a gathering or a picnic lunch with family in Prospect Park. Food is the glue that melds all the different cultures in New York City. Everyone has a food history, and it isn’t Ruby Tuesday’s or Dunkin Donuts. Sure there are chain eateries around but the independents are thriving too. God love them both. And in those independents are the seeds of many new food traditions and cultures.

Gastropolis: Food and New York City, editors Annie Hauck-Lawson and Jonathan Deutsch have compiled a list of essays about food in New York City. The book examines food in places, food and people, food and trade and food and symbols. Some essays examine New York City food history, like Harley Spiller’s essay "Chow Fun City: Three Centuries of Chinese Cuisine in New York City," while Annie Hauck-Lawson’s essay "My Little Town: A Brooklyn Girl's Food Voice" examines food culture by way of an intimate portrayal of her family growing up in Park Slope, Brooklyn. Gastropolis is both enjoyable and informative, an excellent partner to bring when you are dining alone at your favorite restaurant.

On Monday April 13 at the Mid-Manhattan Library, at 6:30, please join us as editors Annie Hauck-Lawson and Jonathan Deutsch discuss food culture in New York City.