.jpg?picon=512)
In my ever-obsessive need to stake my claim as a Native Daughter of the lovely borough other writers now think they discovered circa 1985, I post this hip, hot essay from author Colson Whitehead as originally read in this Sunday's New York Times Book Review section:
I WRITE IN BROOKLYN. GET OVER IT. (his title, not mine)
I started reading Colson's novel JOHN HENRY DAYS and I can't remember why I put it down. It was during Springsteen's Seeger Sessions tour and I was big on learning more about the iconic John Henry, the Steel Driving legendary hero.
(I think I stopped reading more due to my Springsteen show schedule and less because of the quality of the writing. I remember the reviews. They liked it.)
In case the memo has not reached your desk yet: Brooklyn has always been cool and kind to writers. I should know. Stamping foot, pouting lips. I was there before you. So get over it. ;>
My cordless mouse is dying so I am about to melt into the ether, like the Wicked Witch of the West. Foiled by technology. And I have no idea where the replacement batteries are. What kind of modern convenience is this?
I so wanted to write about the biography I just bought from Amazon. I could not find it in the stores. I can't wait to crack it open and fall in: it's the biography of Betty Smith, author of one of my favorite books... wait for it... A TREE GROWS IN BROOKLYN. (Click link to browse its glorious, Brooklyn-authentic pages.) Better yet, because I don't want you to leave here without a gift, Browse Inside here (and don't say another disparaging word about Brookly bum-types again): ;}
 |   Browse Inside this bookGet this for your site |  |
Add a Comment