Bookish NYC

Reading Now

I've just about finished The Rector's Daughter, by F.M. Mayor.  It's the early 1920s, and Mary Jocelyn is the thirty-five year old spinster daughter of an aged and widowed clergyman who is, frankly, a bit of jerk.  Cold, selfish, snobbish, a bore who enjoys "baiting" younger, less erudite clergy,  he does not appreciate Mary and pays her little notice, even though she cares for her disabled younger sister, keeps house, and works tirelessly in the parish.  Early in the story, we are told: "Sometimes she felt the neighborhood, the village, even her father, becoming like shadows.  On the whole she was happy.  She did not question the destiny life brought her.  People spoke pityingly of her, but she did not feel that she required pity."  Mary's life is transformed when she meets a younger colleague of her father's, the vicar of a neighboring parish, although if you think you see where this is going, you are quite likely wrong.  It's hard to express just how wonderful this novel is.  It's beautifully written, and poignant without being "sweet" or cliched.  It is, in short, a Spinster Manifesto.  Highly recommended.  

Regular readers may recall that I attended a wedding last weekend.  It was held at a lovely country inn in upstate New York, and the ceremony was outdoors overlooking a pond, surrounded by weeping willow trees.  The bride and her father processed up the aisle to the strains of Moon River, which most of you probably know comes from the movie Breakfast at Tiffany's.  (BookishNYC trivia:  it was released the year I was born.)  So, that's a roundabout way of getting to my point . . . when I was at Barnes & Noble the day after the wedding, my attention was, coincidentally, immediately drawn to a book titled Fifth Avenue, 5 A.M. by Sam Wasson.  The book jacket features the famous image of Audrey Hepburn in Holly Golightly's iconic little black dress, drinking a coffee and eating a danish while staring in the windows of Tiffany's at dawn after a night on the town.  I think you will agree that I of course had no choice but to buy the book, which is a behind-the-scenes account of the making of Breakfast at Tiffany's.  Here's a teaser:  Truman Capote originally wanted Marilyn Monroe to play the lead!  (Can you imagine?)  

Object of Desire

I would dearly love this book, published in 2007 on the occasion of the House of Dior's 60th anniversary, but at a list price of $250 (and available for "only" $157 on Amazon), it will not be gracing my shelves anytime soon:  

 
 

Exhausted

I'm a quiet, bookish type, not well suited to a cultural/social whirlwind, and yet here I am on Sunday evening, in need of a vacation to recover from the past several days in which I did my best impression of a social butterfly.  Here's the rundown:

Last Wednesday:  Worked all day.  In the evening, New York Philharmonic end-of-season concert:  Beethoven's Missa Solemnis.  (That was after intermission; the first part of the program featured a composition by Finnish composer Magnus Lindberg.  Let's just say he should not get any ideas, being on the same bill as Ludwig von.)  

Last Thursday:  Worked all day, then attended performance of Tony Award-winning Best Play Red, starring the wonderful Alfred Molina as artist Mark Rothko.  Red is a two-character, one-act play set in the late 1950s/early 1960s, when Rothko was commissioned to create murals for the then-new Four Seasons restaurant in the Seagrams Building.  (Think Mad Men-era elegance.)   Rothko and his young assistant work on the murals, argue, debate philosophical issues, eat takeout, and argue the merits (or lack thereof) of emerging "pop art" talents Andy Warhol, Roy Lichtenstein, etc., who were eclipsing Rothko's abstract expressionism.  Rothko, after working on the murals for more than two years, took his wife to eat at the Four Seasons and famously declared that no one who would eat at such a pretentious restaurant would bother looking at his paintings.  He cancelled the commission and returned the money.  This was a great, intense evening of theater.  Bonus celebrity sighting:  a prominent CBS newswoman was seated two rows ahead, looking kinda freakishly taut and plumped and smooth.  

Friday:  Worked like a lunatic finishing a prenuptial agreement (romance lives!), and then went out to dinner at Antonucci, a great little restaurant on East 81st Street that was virtually empty, because everyone who's anyone had gotten out of Dodge for the weekend.   Pear salad, bucatini, fresh strawberries, a delightful rose wine . . . OK, OK, so Friday wasn't really all that taxing.  Still, another late evening and as I mentioned above, I'm a lightweight.  

Saturday:  Attended the wedding of an associate in our office.  (NO, not the person for whom I finished the prenup on Friday!)  It was a lovely affair, but as it involved a two-hour drive each way, it ended up consuming twelve hours!  (And might I add, twelve hours in stunning but uncomfortable black satin peep-toe heels.)  I have decided that going forward, I am going to avoid weddings unless I am related to the bride or groom.  I will instead apply a general rule that if I don't actually have to attend your wedding, you get a MUCH nicer gift.  That seems fair, doesn't it?  

Sunday:  It was beastly hot, rendering errand-running a reasonable facsimile of the Bataan death march, so I went to the movies with a friend instead of getting anything productive done.  We saw the documentary film, Joan Rivers: A Piece of Work (surprisingly terrific) and I Am Love, starring Tilda Swinton as the bored, Russian-born wife of an Italian textile magnate (surprisingly NOT terrific, given the hype).  It was certainly a visual treat, but I was a bit disappointed, and found myself wondering at various points, "will this never end?" and "should I order Thai or Mexican food for dinner?" and "is that red jacket back from the drycleaner?"   Of course, your mileage may vary.   

Sunday Quote

Soft is the music that would charm forever;

The flower of sweetest smell is shy and lowly.

     -- William Wordsworth

Seen on the Subway

A chubby 50-ish guy with a permanent five o'clock shadow and wearing a dingy looking seersucker suit was reading Agent Zigzag by Ben Macintyre.  I read this book last year, and it's a remarkable true-life story about a British double agent in WWII.  Highly recommended.  (And I note that the author has just come out with another WWII-era espionage thriller, Operation Mincemeat.)  More importantly, however, a word about seersucker suits:  unless you're an elderly Southern gentleman OR a smokin' hot gay man who models for GQ, just say no.    

A petite older lady, very elegantly dressed in tones of cream and caramel, and looking cool and unruffled despite the ghastly heat (100+) on the subway platform, was reading a hefty biography entitled The Last Empress: Madame Chiang Kai-shek and the Birth of Modern China, by Hannah Pakula.  

And while I myself did not see the following, my friend "L," a judge, reports that she was able to shield her face behind her hardcover copy of The Girl Who Kicked the Hornets' Nest when she spotted a disgruntled and moderately disturbed litigant who had appeared before her just a few seats away.  So there you have it: yet another reason never to take public transportation without having reading material on hand!  

On the Shelf

These steel bookcases wouldn't really fit in my with my apartment's decor, such as it is, but they are certainly intriguing.  Booxx bookcase, designed by Santachiara for Desalto.   

 
 

Career Demands

No time for a post today.  This legal career really cuts into my reading (and blogging) time.  Gaahh!!  

Object of Desire

I came across these Kindle "skins" for $14.99 apiece at decalgirl.com.   Aren't they great?  There are hundreds of choices, but these are my favorites.  I can't decide which I like the best . . . I'm waivering between the union jack design and the Monet's water lilies design.  

 

 

   
 

Bookish Birthday Haul

A bookish birthday treat was in store for me this weekend.  

Over dinner on Saturday night, two dear friends gave me The Allure of Chanel and My First New York.  The former is a small volume arising from a visit that the author, Paul Morand, made to Mlle Chanel in St. Moritz towards the end of World War II, when he was to assist in writing her memoirs.  He made notes of their conversations, which were then tucked away and not re-discovered until after Chanel's death in 1971.  From the book flap:  "Through Morand's transcriptions of their conversations, Chanel tells us about her friendship with Misia Sert, the men in her life -- Boy Capel, the Duke of Westminster, artists such as Picasso, her philosophy of fashion and the story behind the legendary No. 5 perfume."  I can't wait to dip into this, and will be sharing some of Mademoiselle's views in future posts.  

 

The second book, My First New York: Early Adventures in the Big City, features reminiscences of over fifty New Yorkers about their early experiences in the metropolis, including Tom Wolfe, Dan Rather, Liza Minelli, Yogi Berra, Judy Collins, Rufus Wainwright, and Graydon Carter.  Nora Ephron's entry concludes:

"I'd known since I was five, when my parents forced me to move to California, that I was going to live in New York eventually, and that everything in between was just a horrible intermission.  I'd spent those sixteen years imagining what New York was going to be like.  I thought it was going to be the most exciting, magical, fraught-with-possibility place that you could ever live in:  a place where if you really wanted something, you might be able to get it; a place where I'd be surrounded by people I was dying to be with.  And I turned out to be right."  

 

Other lovely and generous friends sent me a splendiferous book, British Paintings in the Metropolitan Museum of Art: 1575-1875, which I can dip into whenever I'm feeling a bit of Anglophilia coming on.  (And when am I not?  LOL!)  

 

Finally, the dear Sister Down South sent me a gift certificate to Barnes & Noble, which I shall happily spend at that store's outpost on 86th Street on my way home from work, the prospect of which will just about make Monday bearable.  

Sunday Quote

"We turn not older with years, but newer every day." 

-Emily Dickinson

Seen on the Subway

I spotted a woman, about 35 years old, clad in NYC's official uniform of all-black and sporting fuschia-painted toenails, reading a paperback edition of Bobby & Jackie (another entry in the perennially popular "Kennedy tell-all" genre) by C. David Heymann. 

A woman in her early 20s was reading Sidney Sheldon's Master of the Game, a book that initially was published about the same time she was born. 

I was lucky to get a seat on a crowded train the other evening, and a tall woman took the standing-room only spot in front of my seat.  She was reading Bullet, by Laurell Hamilton.  She (the reader, not Ms. Hamilton) had very very long acrylic fingernails adorned with an elaborate pink-and-white scrolled pattern.  I looked down, and her toenails were similarly adorned.  I'm talking HOURS in the salon.  

Finally, a guy in his 50s -- grey suit, grey hair -- was reading Spies of Warsaw (terrific book!) by Alan Furst.  I note that Mr. Furst's newest book, Spies of the Balkans, was just published.    

On the Shelf

Well, you'd need a library ladder, but I suppose this is a clever use of space, and you could use these shelves for books you don't immediately need to hand . . . 

 
 

A New (to me) Mystery Series

A visitor to this site (don't be bashful, MyTwoCentsWorth!) has recommended a new detective series by Tarquin Hall.  The first novel is The Case of the Missing Servant:  From the Files of Vish Puri, Most Private Investigator.  The series is set in Delhi, and the portly protagonist is a bit of a gourmand (resulting in mouth-watering descriptions of various delectable meals).   In this first book, Puri is hired by a prominent lawyer suspected of filling a maid in his employ after getting her pregnant.  A subplot involves the father of a bride-to-be who hires Puri to investigate his future son-in-law. 

MyTwoCentsWorth thoroughly enjoyed this first installment, which is available in paperback, and notes that the second book in the series, The Case of the Man Who Died Laughing, was published just yesterday in hardcover.  Both books are available for Kindle.  I, for one, feel a purchase coming on . . .

Object of Desire

This is a sterling silver Victorian vesta (match) case in the shape of a book.  Isn't it beautiful?  As of this writing, available at Daniel Bexfield Antiques, Burlington Arcade, London, for a mere £1,450.   

 
 

A Solitary Man

This weekend a friend and I went to see A Solitary Man, starring Michael Douglas.  Douglas plays Ben Kalmen, a one-time multi-millionaire owner of car dealerships all over the New York metropolitan area.  As the film opens, Ben is already on the skids, having been caught a couple of years before in some shady business dealings for which he escaped jail time, but which nonetheless ruined him financially.  Meanwhile, his hound-dog tendencies with women have resulted in a divorce from his wife, played by Susan Sarandon.   Ben is currently involved with a woman (Mary Louise Parker, in an exquisitely bitchy role) for the sole purpose of parlaying her wealthy father's far-reaching business connections into a second chance for himself.  He very nearly succeeds until he embarks on a downward spiral of self-destruction, beginning with a jaw-droppingly stupid move which, even though you see it coming, still caused the audience to gasp.   The only "real" thing Ben has left is his relationship with his daughter (played by Jenna Fischer) and young grandson (who he insists call him "Captain Ben" rather than "grandpa" so as not to cramp his style when he attempts to pick up young women at the playground), but he manages to mess this up as well.  He ends up seeking refuge with an old buddy from college played by Danny DeVito, who still works in his family's diner near the Ivy-League university campus where he and Ben first met, and where Ben, in better times, endowed the new library.   Ben is thoroughly unlikeable, and yet his admittedly rather sleazy charm is such that you can't help rooting for him to find redemption.  The performances are all terrific; the script is excellent; and there is nary a cliche in sight.  Highly recommended.  

After the movie we had dinner at Bar Boulud and I feasted on asparagus salad, roast chicken, and a raspberry tart.  And wine.  Did I mention wine?  

Sunday Quote

"Three things in human life are important:  the first is to be kind; the second is to be kind; and the third is to be kind."  

-Henry James

Seen on the Subway

A very large woman in her 30s wearing a black sweatsuit was reading Die Twice by Andrew Grant.  This is the latest in a series of thrillers featuring David Trevelyan, a British naval intelligence officer.  

A young blonde woman with a purple leather handbag, black and white umbrella, and wearing bright red espadrilles was reading Hotel on the Corner of Bitter and Sweet, by Jamie Ford.  

Not actually on the NYC subway, but on the Great North Eastern Railway in England, en route from Lincolnshire to London, I was seated directly across the table from a guy in his late 50s reading Espresso Tales, by Alexander McCall Smith.  He coughed repeatedly -- big, loud, phlegmy coughs  -- without covering his mouth.  I finally said, "that's disGUSTing."  He looked up, met my eyes, said nothing, and continued reading.  But the next time he coughed, he covered his mouth.  Hmmph!   

On the Shelf

How do you feel about these book towers?  Similar styles are available at many retailers -- Pottery Barn, Design Within Reach, etc.   I think they're interesting, and for display purposes (or just some extra storage in an otherwise unused corner) might be fun, but really just a novelty for those of us with thousands of volumes. 

 
 

Vacation Book Purchases

I spent only a day and a half in London on my recent vacation, but that didn't prevent me from hitting the bookstores.  (Technical note:  There has been some sort of Typepad snafu that is preventing me from uploading pictures of the books and I don't have time to remedy it now, but please do click on the links if you want further information or just want a "visual.")  Herewith, my acquisitions:

I picked up an autographed copy of Bill Bryson's latest, At Home: A Short History of Private Life, in which Bryson takes a wander through his house (a former rectory in Norfolk, the lucky b*stard) and discourses upon the everyday objects and rooms therein.   I've only just dipped into it, but have read enough to say that it should contain the usual Bryson caveat:  Don't read it on airplanes/buses, etc.  unless you mind laughing to yourself like a fool in public.  Available in the States in October.  

I also bought a copy of Antonia Fraser's book Must You Go? about her extramarital affair with and eventual marriage to playwright Harold Pinter.   I've skimmed through this widely-acclaimed book, and despite it having been described as "luminous" (always a red flag, don't you think?), I thought it was, um . . . pretentious twaddle.  No moral judgments here -- as a divorce lawyer, there is literally nothing about adultery that shocks me, but the book just isn't that interesting, other than a few gossipy name-dropping bits.  Available now from AmazonUK; published in the U.S. in November.

As I am at heart a history geek, and have a keen interest in the First World War and its aftermath, I picked up a paperback of The Great Silence: Britain from the Shadow of the Great War to the Dawn of the Jazz Age, 1918-1920 by Juliet Nicolson.  Available in hardcover in the U.S. this month.  

Having heard forever about the wonderful Miss Hargreaves by Frank Baker, I picked up the sprightly-colored Bloomsbury edition and read it on the plane back to New York.  Amazing the havoc that an imaginary octogenarian can wreak on a small cathedral town and its inhabitants! Charming and highly recommended.  Available both in the U.K. and the U.S. 

Finally, I bought Elizabeth Norton's biography of Catherine Parr, Henry VIII's last queen.  This completes my  divorced-beheaded-died, divorced-beheaded-survived bookshelf.  

Object of Desire

I have several place settings of Emma Bridgewater's Polka Dot china.   I think this cheerful pattern is just perfect for breakfast/Sunday brunch, or any other time your spirits need a lift.  I covet the teapot, which I've not yet added to my collection.  It's about time, don't you think?

 
 

Back from Vacation

Hello all -- I've returned from a lovely vacation.  Visited some dear friends, rested, and took in a few favorite spots, including: 

Grimsthorpe Castle in Lincolnshire, a story-book house and location.  The impressive north front is the work of Sir John Vanbrugh, but I prefer the older, Tudor side of the building.  Here it is:  

 . . . then on to the incomparable Chatsworth in Derbyshire, home of the Duke & Duchess of Devonshire.  (There was a terrific special exhibit about the Dowager Duchess, nee Deborah Mitford, the youngest of that colorful family.)  Here is one view of the magnificent house, with the gravity-fed Emperor Fountain in the foreground:

Then up to London for just a day and a half, where I took in the Paul Sandby show at the Royal Academy, as well as the Horace Walpole exhibit at the V&A.  I had meant to see the Quilts show at the V&A, as well as the Grace Kelly exhibit there, but an emergency at the office back in New York had me high-tailing it back to my hotel (the delightful Stafford Hotel on St. James's Place) to spend the afternoon shouting down the phone at clients and adversaries alike.  Aaaaggghhhh!!!   I remedied my frustration by having a drink in the hotel's famous American Bar.  

I flew home on Saturday, spent today writing a set of motion papers, and it's back to the grind tomorrow.  [sob]  I'll post in a day or two about books read and books purchased while I was away.