Posts Tagged ‘the commute’

My Lucky Day?

April 3, 2012

You Dirty Rat

  • Right before leaving for work this morning, a little voice inside my head told me: “Take your camera.” The last time that happened, I ignored it and missed a great shot on the way to work.

To my delight, there was a big inflatable rat in front of the Trump Tower at 8:45 a.m.

Check out the protestor on the right, the guy in the gray plaid jacket. He could be the rat’s brother.

*  *  *

  • Keeping in mind yesterday’s post about my crazy office, this is the text of an e-mail sent by Human Resources today:

Sent: Tuesday, April 03, 2012 3:22 p.m.

To: NY Staff

Subject: Food From Meeting Rooms/Fruit Bowl

All employees have to wait until any food that is left over from a meeting room is  brought into the kitchen. All food left in the kitchen is available to staff for their enjoyment on a first come, first-served basis.

Please be courteous and take one piece of fruit per day so your co-workers can have a piece too!

Your cooperation is appreciated.

(I laughed out loud when I read this. It sounds like something written by my third grade teacher. I can just picture the stampede of gobblers scarfing up half-eaten leftovers from the conference room.)

*  *  *

  • At 5:00 p.m., I left work and walked to the subway station to catch the R, a local train. Because I had my book, New York Diaries, I would not mind the longer ride home. Besides, I didn’t feel like walking up blustery 57th Street to catch the F express.

Luckily, the R pulled into the station right way. And, I got a seat! I opened my book.

Right before we pulled into the Queens Plaza stop, I read this wacky journal entry dated May 3, 1847. It was written by Walt Whitman:

People are not half aware of  the benefits of regular bathing—a practice which should be “got into” by every man, woman, and child of the land. The cold bath is best (winter and summer), for healthy persons–with this proviso: not to bathe in it when the body is chilled, but when it has a healthy glow of warmth. This is an important item. At first, and for those to whom bathing is new, tepid water will be best–soon and gradually to be superseded by the water of the natural temperature. Nor is anything absolutely necessary to a bath, except a pitcher of water in one’s room, a sponge and a towel; by using these daily, one will feel better and live longer.

By every man, woman, and child of the land! Can you imagine how people must have reeked in 1847, if they need instructions on bathing?

Before I knew it, the R pulled into Queens Plaza. Across the platform, the E express train sat on the tracks, doors open, waiting for passengers. At the last minute, I ran out of the R and breezed through the doors of the E just as they were closing.

Which meant only more one stop to Jackson Heights — instead of the usual 5 or 6 more stops had I remained on the R.

When the door closed, the stink on the E train acquainted itself with my nostrils. I wanted to gag (or read aloud Walt Whitman’s advice to the offending passengers.) The muggy, close air stank of B.O., despite the A/C.

The guy standing next to me was snorting every few seconds like a horse. What is it with these snorting people? They are everywhere. Have they never heard of Kleenex?  (I had to be grateful. He could have been a spitter or projectile nose-blower).

The guy to the right of me was just plain dirty.

Noxious odors notwithstanding, it was indeed fortunate I followed my instinct and switched trains. Because when I arrived at my stop and climbed the stairs to the station, I saw a group of firefighters with emergency equipment milling around. Out on the street, I overheard an EMT worker utter the word “cardiac.”

Which meant right then, the conductor on the R train was most likely announcing “sick passenger” or “police action” into his microphone to a packed train of people at a standstill in the tunnel.

The last time that happened to me, our extremely crowded rush hour train was stranded in the tunnel for 45 minutes. Talk about misery!

The scene outside the station

Relatively speaking…this was sort of my lucky day.

When is a Work of Art Finished?

June 14, 2011

I’m in between books.

I’ve just finished a string of them. Books are easy to finish. You know when you are done because you’ve run out of pages.

What I’ve been reading lately: The Ugly American (William J. Lederer and Eugene Burdick — excellent, very readable, semi-satirical, startlingly relevant classic from 1958 about American foreign policy); The Ten-Year Nap (Meg Wolitzer — very enjoyable read about a group of women friends, and could qualify as “summer reading”); Reading My Father: A Memoir (Alexandra Styron — disappointing in that it is interesting when she discusses William Styron, her father; but dull, when she doesn’t); The Emperor of All Maladies (Sidhartha Murkerjee — fascinating, informative labor of love about the history of cancer); and Drop City (T.C. Boyle — I’m a Boyle fan and loved this one: the inevitable decline of a hippy commune circa late 1970s in northern CA).

At any rate, with three books on my library queue languishing in “pending” limbo, I quickly scoured my bookshelf this morning for something to read on the commute.

I will not ride the subway without burying my face in a book and hiding my eyes behind sunglasses. Why? What if something like this happens?

This occurred the other day on the train I normally take to work, at the Lexington Ave. 53rd St. stop. Thank God I wasn’t on it.

(Just so you understand why I need to divorce myself from the MTA environment I travel in, daily.)

On my bookshelf this morning, I located an old favorite: And Our Faces, My Heart, Brief As Photos by the brilliant John Berger (who also authored the astoundingly perceptive Ways of Seeing —  a staple for artists and art lovers alike.)

Half-way into Manhattan this morning, I read and re-read this long-forgotten passage by Berger.

When is a painting finished? Not when it finally corresponds to something already existing — like the second shoe of a pair — but when the foreseen ideal moment of its being looked at is filled, as the painter feels or calculates it ought to be. …Of course, the painting’s moment-of-being-looked-at cannot be entirely foreseen and thus completely filled by the painting. Nevertheless every painting is, by its very nature, addressed to such a moment.

Is it finished? is a question I asked often of my professors in school. I also asked it in writing workshops when presenting an essay or story. It has taken years of experience for me to trust my instincts and figure out the answer on my own.

Sometimes, the answer is simple: You just know. 

For profundity and perspicacity, you need not look further than John Berger.

But I suggest reading him in a quieter place than on the F train.

Books and Reading and Commuting in 2010

January 17, 2011

 

Last October, when I moved back to New York, I looked forward to doing lots of reading on my morning and evening commute to and from work.

In less than 15 months — mid-October through this past December — I’ve read 54 books, both fiction and non-fiction. That’s approximately 4 books per month (or 1-a-week). Not that I’m counting, but 2010 was the first year I’d actually kept a list.

Because I love talking about and sharing the names of books I’ve enjoyed with like-minded readers, I’ve taken the liberty of  listing my favorites of 2010.

Honorable mentions are also included, as are would-have-been-favorites, if not for their disappointing endings. There were also some real clunkers. But, I’ve left the clunkers off the list. I don’t have the heart to pan a novel outright, because I’m more than aware of the blood, sweat and tears that are part of the novel-writing process.

Anyway, here are my lists.

My Favorite Books of 2010 — in no particular order of importance or release date — (these are books I continue to think about long after I’ve finished them; books that changed my way of thinking on some level; books that are deftly written).

1) Must You Go? My Life With Harold Pinter (Antonia Fraser) – Diary entries, excerpted from Fraser’s own, beginning the moment these two eloquent writers first meet, at a party. Fraser, about to leave, walks over to Pinter, who is seated. He looks up at her and says: “Must you go?” A true love story and literary delight.

2) Brooklyn (Colm Toibin) – A pithy story, heartfelt, poignant, surprising, with such beautifully drawn characters. A twist of fate, misreading of intentions, wrong assumptions, alter the lives of the characters forever.

3)  Olive Kitteridge (Elizabeth Strout) – A series of stories linked by the formidable character of Olive Kitteridge, a retired school teacher. Warmly crafted, elegantly written, with an ending so perfectly rendered, you’ll rejoice.

4)  The First Family – The Birth of the American Mafia (Mike Dash) – A fascinating, obsessive factual account of the beginnings of the Mafia in this country, grandfathered by a fiercely murderous individual nicknamed “The Clutch Hand.”

5) Mattahorn – (Karl Marlantes) – A tour de force fictionalized account of Marlantes’ harrowing tour of Vietnam as a Marine. Unputdownable.

6)  Bright-Sided – How the Relentless Promotion of Positive Thinking Has Underminded America (Barbara Ehrenreich) – A breath of fresh air. Smart, trenchant and honest exploration of America’s penchant for denial.

7) Into the Wild (John Krakauer) – A fantastic book, which I’ve just gotten around to reading. Maybe you’ve seen the film adaptation. As good as that was, read the book.

8) Parallel Play: Growing Up With Undiagnosed Asperger’s (Tim Page) – A funny, astonishing, emotionally educational and heartbreaking account of living with this Asperger’s, by a brilliant writer and music critic.

9) The Sea (John Banville) – Lovely prose, witty, atmospheric, it’s a book I didn’t want to end. Highly recommended.

10) Tree of Life (Hugh Nisseson) – Haunting, unique, unlike any other book I’ve read before. I will never view Johnny Appleseed in the same way again. Nisseson is an amazing writer.

11) Just Kids (Patti Smith) – Very entertaining, great writing.  A loving, revealing chronicle of her relationship with Mapplethorpe, full of juicy tidbits, characters and anecdotes of the time period.

12) Suite Française (Iréne Némirovsky) – Set in Paris during the Nazi occupation — a novel that resurfaced years after the author’s death at the hands of the occupiers. Enough said. Don’t miss it.

13) The Night Stalker (Philip Carlo) – A masterpiece of the genre of true crime (my guilty pleasure reading).

14) Abide With Me (Elizabeth Strout) – Stunning in its irreverence, emotional depth and spare writing. An eccentric minister and his young, motherless daughter endure the small-mindedness of a small town, with grace and strength of character. A spiritual triumph.

15) Morphus Eugenia (A.S. Byatt) – a.k.a. “Angels and Insects.” Nothing short of fantastic. The “underside of the tapestry,” to quote Joan Didion.

16)  Stitches (David Small) – A graphic memoir focusing on a horrific truth withheld from Small in his childhood. Starkly rendered illustrations. Beautifully done.

17)  Fierce Attachments (Vivan Gornick) – Exemplary memoir. Superbly written.

Honorable Mention (more than worthy reads):

1) This Is Where I Leave You (Jonathan Tropper) – Very funny – Tropper has a great sense of humor – it’s his heartfelt account of the confusion, sorrow and attempts to move on after a breakup of his marriage.

2) The Privileges (Jonathan Dee) – Witty, erudite, sharply written – I admired the writing, but disliked all the characters, which made it difficult, in the end, to like the book.

3) Sag Harbor (Colson Whitehead) – A coming of age novel about what it was like to spend your summers growing up as a young black man in one of the black communities of Sag Harbor, Long Island, in the 1980s. Add a star if you’ve lived in or are familiar with the area.

4) The Signal (Ron Carlson) – Haunting, in the way only Ron Carlson can be haunting. Suspenseful story of a once-happy marriage, now over, and the erstwhile couple’s final, annual, camping trip in a forest teeming with danger.

5) Invisible (Paul Auster) – A story within a story, what you’d expect from an Auster novel, this time venturing into deeper psychological territory than some of his others, centering around an incestuous relationship — and, then again, maybe not.  Not my favorite Auster novel, but, I’m a longtime fan of his writing.

6) The Possessed (Adventures With Russian Books and the People Who Read Them) (Elif Bauman) – Liked it, especially when she mentioned Russian authors I’d actually read. Not as enjoyable when she wrote about those I hadn’t. Bauman’s mind is perceptively keen and she’s so damn smart — I just loved what she had to say about writers’ groups and workshops.

7) Driving Over Lemons: An Optimist in Andalucia (Chris Stewart) – An armchair traveler’s delight, written by the former drummer of “Genesis” and talented sheep-shearer, who leaves England and buys a broken down farm in Anadalucia, where he and his wife put down roots and befriend one of the colorful locals.

8) Everything Ravaged, Everything Burned (Wells Tower) – Read this collection, so you won’t miss his unforgettable story, “The Leopard,” which, when it first appeared in The New Yorker magazine, just thrilled me. It’s that good. I’d read the story twice at the time, back to back, and was delighted to encounter it again in this collection. All the stories are well worth your time.

9) Bitter Harvest (Ann Rule) – An insane, brilliant physician in Kansas slowly poisons her husband. One of Rule’s better true crime thrillers.

10) Lay of the Land (R. Ford) – I began this book shortly after it was released. Got about 2/3 of the way through. Put it aside. Picked it up a few years later, in 2010, and finished it. The fact that I had been stalled, well, I supposed the story had slowed down a bit. But — I did remember everything I had read up to that point, when I picked it up again, so that says a lot. I’m a fan of Ford’s writing, and have a soft spot for his novels (not to mention that I’d met him at a reading and he’d signed this very book, so I was obliged to finish it). I’ve read the first two novels in this trilogy, “The Sportswriter” and “Independence Day,” and also his short story collection, “A Multitude of Sins” – which I loved. This last novel is not his best, perhaps, but I feel as if I have come to know Frank Bascombe intimately (the main character that appears in all three novels). And, in the end, I was satisfied to have finished it.

11) Backing into Forward (Jules Feiffer) – For years, I was a fan of Feiffer’s cartoon strip in The Village Voice, which led me to this memoir. It’s one of the few books I actually “purchased” in 2010 – some of his strips (which I actually remembered – this was a plus, too) are reprinted in the book.

12) Lost and Found (Essays about N.Y.) (Various) – Just plain enjoyable. Add some stars if you live in N.Y.

13) Diary of a Mad Housewife (Sue Kaufman) – A reread of an old favorite. Still enjoyable, but a bit dated, this time around. By the way, the novel was made into a very entertaining movie, starring Richard Benjamin, Carrie Snodgrass and a very young and handsome Frank Langella (playing the part of one of the most cold-hearted, miserable, nasty, egotistical writers you’d ever want to meet, let alone sleep with). Still waiting for it to come out on DVD…

14) Dear Husband (Joyce Carol Oates) – A collection of stories. I loved “Death by Fitness Center,”  which made me laugh out loud. Most of the collection is on the grim side, which I don’t mind, such as her fictionalized story about Andrea Yates, the born-again mother who had a psychotic break and killed her kids. I’ve always admired Oates’ writing and compassion for abused women and how she keeps them in the collective consciousness by writing about them.

Good books with disappointing endings:

The Elegance of the Hedgehog (Muriel Barbery) – At the end, the main characters weepy breakdown in a restaurant, of all places, seemed totally out of character. Kind of ruined the book for me.

– This Book Could Save Your Life (A.M. Homes) – Very enjoyable, until it’s Hollywood ending.

– The Three Weissmanns (Cathleen Shine) – Compulsively readable and funny, but the ending was a letdown, too Hallmark. I felt cheated.

Should have taken a pass:

Nothing Was the Same (Key Redfield Jamison) –  Jamison’s memoir, The Unquiet Mind, about her bipolar disorder, was piercing, powerful and poetic, and infinitely better.

– The Hilleker Curse (James Ellroy) – Yes, we know that Ellroy is a flamboyant egomaniac and self-promoter. In keeping with that reputation, he shares the details of his romantic conquests and so-called relationships in a decidedly unromantic, rather emotionless way. Frankly, he comes across as an idiot in his behavior, but without a fulcrum of irony or humor. Why would these women choose to live with him, I continually asked myself as I read? Worst of all, he blames his bad behavior and relationship failures on the “Hilleker Curse” (i.e., his lifelong hangup on his mother and her shocking murder). So why did I BUY this book? Because Ellroy’s “My Dark History,” a memoir of his mother’s murder, is a masterpiece.

Sh*t My Dad Says (Justin Halpern) – A subtitle to this book might be: Sh*t His Son Writes. Sorry, I had to include this clunker – it’s on the N.Y.T. bestseller list (!)  Come on, America.

Last, but not least: Some Good Books About the Craft of Writing:

– Writing About Your Life (William Zinsser) – A memoir-writing classic.

– Don’t Quit Your Day Job (edited by Sonny Brewer) – A terrific collection of essays by Southern writers.

– My Reading Life (Pat Conroy) – I’ve never read any of Conroy’s novels (have opened one or two in a bookstore and flipped through them). I did enjoy this memoir, however, and read it obsessively on my commute. The opening chapter dedicated to mother is really beautiful. My eyes teared up twice on the F train.

The Art and Craft of Fiction (Victoria Mixon) – I recently ordered this book from Mixon’s website (she’s an editor) and have just begun reading. Not at all like the usual how-to writing books that are on the market. It’s so much more than that. Chocked with vital, well thought out suggestions, specifics you won’t find elsewhere. You can read excerpts and buy the book on her site http://victoriamixon.com/ Highly recommended.

As always, your comments and book suggestions are most welcome. Happy Reading…