Books

There is a story everywhere in New York City. Gotham is a collage of life stories, like a multifaceted crystal where each surface is a new and different tale. Every encounter, everything we see, people we know and don’t know all have stories. Most of the stories are unknown, most untold, but in reality there is a vast richness of unique experiences out there, waiting to be revealed. From Choi and Maria, the gentle and devoted Korean couple who run my corner bodega, to the beautiful line driven art work of Elbow-Toe, that skips across building walls and doors in and around Brooklyn, these are just pieces of the New York City story pie.

What makes a good story? Time, place, situation and most important the person who tells the story. A storyteller who puts words to paper, creating an engaging, intelligent and thought provoking piece, out of the seemingly ordinary, is nothing if not truly talented, gifted even. Dan Barry is one such person. He wrote the About New York section for the New York Times (currently he is writing the This Land section for the New York Times) for many years and those columns were made into a book City Lights: Stories About New York.

Dan Barry has given a voice to the people and places in New York City that would barely register on any scale. Through a combination of words and ideas he has unmasked the mundane of this city, revealing a poignancy and passion that lies just below the surface of all our lives. In 1000 word essays, Dan Barry has crisscrossed the city opening a window into the people and places that would otherwise be unknown to us. Some of the essays are heartwarming, some are tragic, but what City Lights best reveals is the heart and soul of New York City .

On Wednesday April 1, Dan Barry will be reading and discussing his book City Lights: Stories About New York at the Mid-Manhattan Library on the 6th floor at 6:30. Please join us for a wonderful evening.

From the flier for an upcoming program on March 19, 2009 at 4:00PM at the Tottenville Branch Library:

A Celebration of the History of Tottenville

The Tottenville Historical Society and the Tottenville Branch Library invite you to celebrate the arrival of the new book, Tottenville: The Town the Oyster Built by Barnett Shepherd. “Scrupulously researched but lively vivid…” writes Christopher Gray of the New York Times. And Brian J. Laline, Editor, Staten Island Advance adds “Tottenville, Staten Island. A place of rich history, historical significance–and your last stop before leaving the shores of the State of New York…Travel with him around this southernmost town in New York State…It’s truly a unique story of a tiny slice of America.”

The book is published by the Tottenville Historical Society and the Preservation League of Staten Island.

If you can't come to the program and are interested in the book, you can contact the Tottenville Historical Society at www.tottenvillehistory.com or at PO Box 70185, Staten Island, NY 10307-0185

Tottenville Branch had a book discussion last night on The Namesake. It went very well, but wasn’t quite as lively as last month’s discussion of Running With Scissors! The group liked The Namesake, and were sympathetic to the characters, by and large, and their difficulties in adapting to American culture, and being caught between India and the U.S., especially for the second generation character, Gogol, who is the main character of the book. Some of the participants thought he was a bit too laid back, even being described as disengaged. There was kind of a long discussion of arranged marriages, with some thinking they were and are horrific, but some did talk about what they felt were possible positives, and contrasted it to the problems in American marriages and the high divorce rate. I did have to bring it back to the book, but it was an interesting side discussion.

Most agreed it was a pretty fast reading book, although there were mild complaints that not much happened, especially in the first half of the book. But all agreed the book is an interesting look into the Indian-American community, and the issues and problems they have to deal with. Also, I think, a look into contemporary mores of the 20 and 30 something generation.

A good book for a book discussion.

And next month, Water for Elephants by Sara Gruen.

Exiting the subway at 40th Street and 5th Ave, I noticed that the oasis of Bryant Park was really there. Under all metal girders, draped in white there was a park. The dismantling of the tents signaled the ending of what will hopefully be the conclusion of what had simply been business as usual in this country, like conspicuous consumption. Hopefully we can say good bye to gluttonous MacMansions and grossly oversized vehicles and the celebration of pomp without a lick of substance. If we are lucky, we can say good bye to the arrogance and unrestrained hubris, that had been the mantle of America in general, that is until the collapse this past fall of the financial world.

Contemplating the lovely Bryant Park, I had recently completed reading The Kill by Emile Zola. The Kill (La Curee 1871-72) the second book in the 20 volume Rougon-Macquart series, has been reprinted after years of being out of print. The setting ofThe Kill is 19th century Paris, when Paris was undergoing significant changes. Tiny medieval streets were being destroyed and redesigned into big wide boulevards. Neighborhoods were being replaced with newly minted enclaves, shiny and bright. Despite the grand plans of master designer Baron Haussmann, there existed something sinister lying just under the surface. There always is in Zola’s Rougon-Macquart series.

Zola's colorful tale is peopled with characters not unlike what we presently see in our tabloid smut, there are the Madonna types and characters like Eliot Spitzer and Donald Trump and lovely airhead beauties expounding on fashion as though their opinions were somehow worthy. Schemers, hucksters and land-grabbers decked out in the finest threads, with kid covered hands, smile and peck cheeks as though they were the epitome of civilized society. All the while Madoff type plans are being hatched, fueling the excess that is the backbone of this little treasure. It is a book for our times, showing greed at its worst. What we learn is that history repeats itself over and over again, the good times and the bad times. Fashion Week closed on a somber note, not unlike the final pages of The Kill.

A few days ago, I remembered that I liked Design Observer—a collective blog that occasionally includes posts from the great Steven Heller. Anyway, there was a post or a link or some other worm hole a few months ago that led to a Flickr page of book covers designed by Alvin Lustig for New Directions in the late 1940’s. Clean, with one or two colors, interesting use of typography or hand lettering, and abstracted shapes, Lustig’s designs are a revelation and respite from the lazy use of the photographic image and rote text layout (a problem then as now).

However, since NYPL, like most libraries, does not extensively collect book jackets, my forays into the stacks were for naught. That is until I ran across Alfred Young Fisher’s The Ghost in the Underblows. A 304 page arch-modernist poem that I won’t or can’t summarize, The Ghost in the Underblows was designed by Lustig and printed at the Ward Ritchie Press in Los Angeles in 1940. Lustig’s design for the title page and the section breaks are quite beautiful given the two-color palette (red and black) he utilized and vastly different from his later work. Each is a small symphony, composed of metal slugs and other odds and ends from the print shop where the positioning and edges of the components become visible on close inspection. Yet moving back the designs resemble a Frank Lloyd Wright window constructed by Malevich.

All of the images from Ghost as well as other information on Lustig are available here, but a close examination with the object provides a real delight.

If the New Year is to mean anything more than the difference between Wednesday and Thursday, it should contain a bit of reflection on the past, a glance over the shoulder to see where we’ve been and what we’ve done. Since this is a blog about books, reading, and libraries, I thought an examination of my personal reading list during this past year might be interesting. I’m always intrigued by the lists of others--even if, as with the New York Times’s 10 Best Books of 2008, I’ve only read one of the selections. My average with other people’s favorite movie lists is usually even lower.

Since the number of real bookstores in New York has dwindled to a paltry few, one of the few places left to exercise the fine art of book-browsing is the Mid-Manhattan Library. In fact, most of the books I’ve read this year have been courtesy of my library card. I don’t generally gravitate to the new books section, with their glossy covers, pristine pages, and spines that crack a bit when you open them. I often prefer the excitement of unearthing a hidden gem, a book nobody’s ever heard of or long since forgotten, even if it’s been sitting idly on the shelf for a generation so. That’s how I discovered Something in Disguise, a 1969 novel by Elizabeth Jane Howard, and The Dressmaker, from 1973, by Beryl Bainbridge. Both are dark tales of British social mores, the first about a widow with grown children who marries a pompous bore who just might have a shady side to his nature, the second about a repressed young woman living with her aunts in wartime England. Of course, I could probably have found used paperback copies of both these books on the Internet, if I’d been aware of their existence. But since there is no such thing as browsing books on the Internet, where would I have looked? [Since I read Something in Disguise earlier this year, it seems to have been withdrawn from the Mid-Manhattan library but is still available in the General Research Division's collection.]  read more »

In November the new Children’s Center at 42nd Street opened in The New York Public Library’s landmark Fifth Avenue building. John E. Peters, the Children’s Center’s new Supervising Librarian, shares his staff’s picks of the best children’s books they read during 2008.
 
YOUNGER AUDIENCES:

Krull, Kathleen & Brewer, Paul. Fartiste. (Simon & Schuster).

What? You've never heard of renowned French performance artist Joseph Pujol? Blast yourself over to the nearest children's room and check out this airy picture book biography.
 
 
 
 
 
Miller, Heather Lynn. This Is Your Life Cycle. (Simon & Schuster).

Oprah-on-the-pond.
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
MIDDLE LEVEL AUDIENCES:

Law, Ingrid. Savvy. (Dial).

This first novel features a Midwestern Odyssey and a truly ingenious McGuffin.
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
Morris, Gerald. The Adventures of Sir Lancelot the Great. (Houghton).

The first episode for newer readers from the author of the Best. Arthurian. Retellings. Ever. If you haven't read him, start with Squire's Tale.
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 

OLDER AUDIENCES NOT AFRAID TO BE SEEN WITH A CHILDREN'S BOOK:

Greenberg, Jan & Jordan, Sandra. Christo and Jeanne-Claude: Through the Gates and Beyond. (Roaring Brook).

What they do, and why they do it--explained with brilliant concision.
 
 
 
 
 
 
Nelson, Kadir. We Are the Ship: The Story of Negro League Baseball. (Jump At The Sun).

The story has been told before, but the pictures will knock your socks off.
 
 
 
 
 
 

The Tottenville Branch will be having a book discussion of Eat, Pray, Love by Elizabeth Gilbert this coming Monday, November 17 at 7:00PM. Come join us! We ask only that you have read the book to take part in the discussion.

The Tottenville Branch is located at 7430 Amboy Road, Staten Island, NY 10307, and the phone number is 718-984-0945.

We will be discussing The Secret Life of Bees by Sue Monk Kidd on December 15.

Visit the Book Discussion Groups page for a full list of book titles, dates and locations.

My apartment does not contain exquisite little Meissen porcelain figures, or walls full of J. M. W. Turner watercolors, or a locked case full of exotic anthropological artifacts from Papua New Guinea, or even a valuable stamp or coin collection. Instead, I’ve managed to surround myself with many well-loved objects of no intrinsic value: books, CDs, movies. This reflection was inspired by my decision, over the Labor Day weekend, finally to get rid of my personal VHS video library. I suppose I should confess at the outset that my VCR has been non-functional for over a year now, and I was holding onto my collection only as a sort of historical relic while I bored my friends insensible with the question of whether to buy a new VCR or to replace the tapes with DVDs. It’s no secret how much superior a format the DVD is; when I last watched one of those tapes, a year ago, I was well aware that it was like gazing through the surface of a stagnant pond. And how often can you watch the same movie, anyway? Some, if not most, of you will wonder what the fuss is all about. A few, I hope, will recognize the time, energy, money, and love that go into a collecting compulsion. You might even be holding onto similar accumulations yourself.  read more »

Our cast takes a bow at Staten Island OutLOUD’s annual performance of “Moby Dick” at historic Fort Wadsworth.

What is Staten Island OutLOUD?
Staten Island OutLOUD is a grass-roots dialogue and performance project. Several times a month, we present free gatherings in community settings throughout Staten Island. We gather to read aloud to one another from a variety of world classics and other compelling literature. There’s nothing to buy, nothing to prepare. Just come with an open mind; we’ll lend you copies of the featured literature. Anyone who wants to read aloud is welcome to do so; those who’d prefer not to, can just sit back and enjoy being read to. We draw a diverse, intergenerational audience. In fact, we bring together many people who might otherwise never have a chance to meet. We share ideas about what we’re just read, and enjoy hearing a variety of viewpoints. Most of our events are intimate, participatory readings, but several times a year we present large staged events with music. All our events are free.  read more »

My father moved into my Brooklyn home about 10 years ago when my mother died, and thus began my career as his personal librarian. When he first moved to Brooklyn, I showed him how to use the bus system so he could travel to and from the Brooklyn Central Library. I gave him a simplified explanation of the Dewey system; telling him what I tell everyone who comes to the reference desk, “think of the number as the address where the subject or book lives on the shelf.” I knew my father’s reading preferences very well and it was with assurance that I sent him to the 940’s to find exactly what he would like. For the most part he took care of his reading material himself, with his weekly jaunts to the library. I would pepper his selections with other books I thought he might enjoy from the collections at Mid-Manhattan. Favorites in the category were Samuel Pepys: The Unequaled Self by Claire Tomalin , Sweet and Low: A Family Story by Rich Cohen, Wild Swans:Three Daughters of China by Jung Chang, The Color of Love: A Mother’s Choice in the Jim Crow South by Gene Cheek and much more. His reading was varied, but mainly it was WWII history he loved and always non-fiction. While at my house he watched no TV. My father just read for his entertainment. As far as I could tell he loved it.

A year and half ago my father became quite ill. I had noticed he did not seem himself so I forced him to go the doctor. I was informed that my father was very sick with congestive heart failure, a common affliction of the elderly. He was so sick there was cause for concern whether he would even live. For 10 days I maintained a presence at the hospital. I sadly watched him turn old right before my eyes. I brought him books while at the hospital but they remained unread. I surmised he was distracted by his plight. Naturally he became depressed. Life was now different and he would have to adjust, or not. The trips to the library would now become memories. Within a matter of days his world became miniscule to what it had been. Miles of travel would now be reduced to blocks, if he was lucky. There was nothing neither he nor I could do; this was life, cruel and ironic.

Once home my father tried to manage a hefty depression. He now had to get used to a new self and that new self would be drastically different from a few weeks before. I brought him books, foolishly thinking reading would be a welcome distraction. How wrong I was. The books gathered dust and their beckoning was left unanswered. I finally broke down and bought him a TV and had cable installed. My kids were thrilled and my father became a zombie in front of the blue screen. He watched for hours and would sleep and then watch more. It broke my heart. He seemed unable to focus on a book. Outwardly he seemed fine, but to me he had become a mere shadow of himself. He no longer seemed an active participant in life, but rather a passive ride taker. I became resigned to my new father and just tried to make him comfortable.

There came a time recently when I brought home two books, the book I was reading A Death in the Family by James Agee and Middlesex by Jeffrey Eugenides the book I planned to start reading afterwards. My father is Greek and our family is from Detroit so I made a point of showing him Middlesex because of the Greek author and the Detroit setting for his book.

My father in his old age has developed a keen interest in everything Greek. I thought the Eugenides book would interest him, if not to read then to simply marvel at the author’s heritage. To my surprise it was the Agee book that caught his interest. He said about the Agee book, “I always wanted to read this book.” With that, I said “here pops, take it, you read it.” That was months ago and my father has been reading fiction every since. Perhaps by reading fiction my father has been able to recapture a part of life that he has lost in his own life. Author Paul Theroux once said “fiction gives us a second chance that life denies us.” I bring him mysteries like: Georges Simenon, Henning Mankell, Elmore Leonard and other works of fiction from Ian McEwan to Somerset Maugham and many more. I am happy to be of service to my father for as long as it lasts. I am also so thankful to be working at Mid-Manhattan, with such an incredible collection of fiction to choose from.

If I had all the time in the world, I think I would spend every weekend watching every minute of Book TV on CSPAN2. In case you don’t know about it, it is mostly readings and talks by authors of non-fiction books, which are mostly but not entirely related to politics. I find it  fascinating.

Since I don’t have all the time in the world, this past weekend I watched 2 hours worth. One was Alan Weisman discussing his book The World Without Us, which is a look at what nature would do if there were no people around, one of the assumptions being that there were no dead human bodies for nature to deal with. It was quite humbling realizing how fast nature would take over. Mr. Weisman is a very engaging speaker, and is  well-versed on the subject.

The 2nd hour I watched Edwidge Danticatt both read from and discuss her new book Brother I’m Dying. It is a reminiscence of the troubles her 81 year old uncle had in trying to come to the US. He claimed political asylum, and Ms. Danticatt tells all the problems he had in convincing US government officials that this was necessary to save his life. Ms. Danticatt read in a calm but still passionate manner, reflecting on the difficulties of immigration, as well as the trials and joys of Haitian life.

They do almost no fiction or poetry on Book TV, but even so, every time I watch it I come away with a feeling of how wonderful these authors are, and how much they put into their books and how enlightening they can be.

Check it out–Book TV on CSPAN2 (available only on cable.) But don’t blame me if you can’t turn it off!

Easy Rawlins is very near and dear to my heart. If he was real I would be in love. Instead I must admire him from afar, through the written word. The man I have the biggest crush on exists only on the page and in my mind’s eye. He is the protagonist of the acclaimed Easy Rawlins series created by noted author Walter Mosley.

I discovered Mosley by accident. I was visiting friends a few years back and I was hungry for something to read, something fun. We got on the topic of books and I mentioned my desire. Mosley was suggested with the added endorsement of Bill Clinton considering Mosley a favorite. That night I looked Mosley up in Novelist (how I miss that database) and discovered the Easy Rawlins series. The next day I got the first book, Devil in a Blue Dress. I read practically the whole book in one sitting. I loved it. I then went on to the third and fourth and within a matter of time I had read the entire series practically in one long sitting and I was hooked. There were so many things that I liked about Easy Rawlins: he was smart but not arrogant, he made mistakes, he was human, he had tremendous humility that he wore like a well fitting suit, and lastly he aged in each installment.

Mosley uses the backdrop of an historical milieu, sometimes using significant events like the Watts Riot to set a story. Mosley’s writing is top notch, graceful and powerful. His sentences often warrant a second look. His secondary characters are well thought out and purposeful.

There is tragedy and humor to the East Rawlins series. They often make me cry.

When I started doing programming, in the back of mind I thought how wonderful it would be to have Walter Mosley come speak at the library. I fantasized about what the night would be like. I seriously wanted to meet Walter Mosley and tell him how much of a fan I was of Easy Rawlins. So in this frame of mind I fired off a letter to Walter Mosley, then two and three, all of them passionately inviting him to come speak at the library. His publicist tried to let me down gently, but I would not give up. After many months and many more letters I did finally give up, putting my school girl crush on Easy Rawlins to rest. I thanked his publicists (there were two or three) for their help and I put the idea of Walter Mosley coming to speak at the library away.

Then last year I was strolling the aisles of the Book Expo at the Javits Center and as luck would have it, I came across the Little Brown & Co. booth and right in front was promotion for the 10th installment of the Easy Rawlins series Blonde Faith. I can’t tell you how excited I was. I gently inquired about having Walter Mosley come to the library. The reception of the request was warm but they would have to check with the author first. I requested business cards and went on my way.

Once back at the library the work began, I composed an email to Walter Mosley’s publicist and waited a week. No response. I re-sent the email with a new email on top. This time a response. It went this way back and forth for a about a month, maybe two. I finally was able to secure a date and with that my heart raced with joy. Getting a solid date of NOV 20 2007 erased the feeling of inadequacy that accompanied my previous attempt to get Walter Mosley to come to the library. Now I was elated and proud. But all the work that went into getting Walter Mosley to come to the library and the great feeling of joy I felt was for naught. In September I was notified by his publicists that Mr. Mosley would not be coming to the library after all. I was frustrated and extremely disappointed and there was nothing I could do about it.

Yesterday was Christmas Eve. I finished Blonde Faith, the 10th installment of the Easy Rawlins series. I happened to be on the train and there it was: the last page, then the last paragraph and finally the last sentence. I shut the book, looked up and thought to myself what a great book it was and how much I love Easy Rawlins.

There is a saying that some of the most precious moments in our lives are special just because we didn’t know that they were important at that time.

I mention this because for the past few weeks I’ve been experiencing a resurgence of interest in the topic of famous fires, a subject that has fascinated and haunted me ever since I happened across a book on the topic at the library at MacDill Air Force Base (Tampa, Florida) when I was eleven years old. I remember sitting in the aisle between the shelves, utterly spellbound by black and white photos of the aftermaths of great conflagrations. There I learned for the first time about the Iroquois Theater in Chicago (1903), the Triangle Shirtwaist Company in New York (1911), and the Cocoanut Grove nightclub in Boston (1942). Even at that age, I could fill the images of the blackened and scorched buildings with visions of crowds of people being burned and trampled as they tried to escape. I saw in my mind’s eye the mingled bravery and helplessness of the firemen and could imagine the unavailing anguish of the victims’ families. I never forgot about that red-covered book whose name I cannot now recall, for it engendered an interest in me that resurfaces whenever a new book is published on the subject of a famous fire.

Habermann, Franz Xaver (1721-1796) - Engraver
“Representation du Feu terrible a Nouvelle Yorck”
In: The Eno Collection of City Views
Published: 1776

Books on Famous Fires

I recently read the books “Chicago Death Trap” and “Tinder box” (both available from New York Public Library), about the Iroquois Theater fire. They are very well written, and it is easy for their readers to imagine themselves in the audience watching the musical comedy “Mister Bluebeard” on that fateful December afternoon shortly after Christmas.

One frame in life’s endless ribbon of events

And here is the core of this entry. The families and couples and shopgirls and children who filled the hall to capacity and beyond that day had no idea while watching a song-and-dance number called “In the Pale Moonlight” that a stage lamp being used to flood the theater with a beautiful blue light was sparking and setting one of the scenery curtains afire. Half an hour after this moment of ignition, over six hundred of the audience would be dead, many more trampled than burned in a terrible stampede to the narrrow exits. I am haunted by this last moment before the fire and the panic. I replay it in my mind’s eye and can iris in like a camera on any and every detail. …The ornate theater, newly opened. Men in celluloid collars and vests sitting next to their wives in corsets, high-button shoes and immense feathered hats. Children excited by the performance or bored and wishing they were home playing with their new toys. Audience members standing behind the last rows of seats or sitting in the aisles. The excited cast and crew members backstage readying sets, props and costumes. The gasps of wonder from the viewers as the theater fills with artificial “moonlight”. Aerialist Nellie Reed waiting high above the stage, ready to swing out over the audience during her number where she’ll scatter flower petals over the crowd. (She will be one of the few cast members to perish when she is forgotten on her perch after the fire breaks out.)… It’s all so poignant and pregnant with portent … to me, because I know what’s going to happen next! None of the people there in the theater that afternoon knew that they would soon be fighting for their lives. Until the fire brought its tragedy, this was an average performance in a typical theater for everyday people. I use my imagination to crystallize a moment into a myth that is very powerful for my mental picture of the world. I can put myself virtually into the audience and freeze that instant in time, viewing it from every angle. But in real life, this is just one “frame” in life’s endless ribbon of events, no more or less special than any other.

I know that events can’t really be frozen into a bell jar or vitrine. Logic says that there was nothing remarkable about the last distribution of pay envelopes that Saturday afternoon at the Triangle factory, or singer Goodie Goodell playing the piano atop a revolving platform that night in the Melody Lounge at the Cocoanut Grove. But I choose, emotionally, to focus on and reflect on them, combing them for meaning and sometimes being reduced to tears at the evocative power of their sheer ordinariness. To return to the theme of this post, these things and moments were special because they were not important at their time. I have the luxury of living later and being able to “stop the film”, so to speak. The people caught up in these events were forced into and through them and did not have this choice. Maybe this is why I think so much about them.

The Burning of Rome : descriptive march and two-step / E. T. Paull, c1903
From the “Treasures of the Performing Arts” digital project

First place winner of th Adult Summer Reading Club is Joanne Olson, who will be receiving a $25 gift certificate to the Cape House Gallery. Natasha Leone came in 2nd place and received a $10 gift certificate to Egger’s Ice Cream Parlor, and Annette Reid finished in third place, and she will receive a gift certificate for one large cheese pie from Classic Pizza. Congratulations to them!