Bookish NYC

Happy 2011 . . .

 . . . and farewell.  It's been nearly two years since I started this blog, which has provided me with a fun creative outlet and put me in touch with many wonderful people all over the world.  However, as I may have mentioned very occasionally (ahem!) I have a demanding career that leaves little time for my personal interests, including reading.  So I have found myself in the awkward position of spending much of the precious time that I would otherwise devote to books, to writing a blog that's supposed to be -- at least in part, anyway -- about books.  

I've done a good deal of thinking over the holidays, and have decided to devote myself to other pursuits in my scant spare time.  Yes, I'm going to put a dent in my To-Be-Read pile, but am also going to work on a couple of my own book projects.  One is a bit hush-hush; the other is about a more mundane work-related topic that happens to be my professional speciality, namely: prenuptial agreements.  

So, dear readers, thank you for all of your kind and encouraging comments over the past two years.  I am going to keep my email address (bookishnyc@gmail.com) active, and will certainly keep posting under that moniker on all of your sites, bookish and otherwise.  Please keep in touch!  

Best wishes for a very Happy New Year!

Merry Christmas

MERRY CHRISTMAS to one and all.  I hope to have my technical difficulties sorted out in time to resume regular posts and to wish you all a Happy New Year next week! 

A Lovely but Technically Challenging Weekend

BookishNYC is having technical difficulties this week, as her modem at home has suddenly stopped working and she must wait for Time Warner Cable to come and replace it.  That shocking cursing that you kept hearing over the weekend from the direction of the East Side emanated from chez Bookish.  So posts this week may be a little erratic. 

Other than THAT, however, the weekend was most pleasant.  I saw The King's Speech, and can only add my accolades to everyone else's.  Stuck to the story of George VI's debilitating speech impediment, didn't sentimentalize, didn't veer off into the tedious and over-baked story of the Abdication other than as absolutely necessary; Colin Firth and Geoffrey Rush (as speech therapist Lionel Logue) both superb, with Helena Bonham Carter as the Duchess of York (later known to us as the Queen Mother) and Timothy Spall as Churchill slyly amusing foils to the main characters.  Now, I believe I've already mentioned in these pages how impressed I've been with Colin Firth of late -- particularly so in last summer's A Single Man.  (Run, don't walk to get it on DVD.  Go ahead -- I'll wait.)   He's really a quietly terrific actor, too long overshadowed by his role as Mr. Darcy in the 1995 adaptation of Pride & Prejudice, for which I thought he was terribly mis-cast.  (I'm quite possibily the only woman on either side of the Atlantic to think so.....)  In any event, imagine my silent mirth on Saturday as I watched The King's Speech in a sold-out movie theater, when none other than Jennifer Ehle, the actress who played Elizabeth Bennett to Firth's Mr. Darcy, was introduced to him as the wife of Lioniel Logue. 

As to reading:  precious little of late, I'm sad to report, but what with the press of year-end business at the office plus presents to wrap and send, cards to get out, etc., I'm lucky to remain conscious long enough to eat something unhealthy for dinner before passing out in the evenings.   However, I have just downloaded and started The Four Stages of Cruelty by Keith Hollihan -- it got a good mention in the Times last week, and its setting in a harsh midwestern prison is just the antidote to all of the faux holiday cheer.  (Let me go on record:  I have no problem with ACTUAL holiday cheer, it's just the forced jollity of the season that makes me want to read a good serial killer novel.) 

Sunday Quote

"I stopped believing in Santa Claus when my mother took me to see him in a department store, and he asked me for my autograph." --Shirley Temple

Seen on the Subway

A woman with wildly curly hair wearing a very unattractive lime green shearling coat (lime green!) was reading Never Let Me Go, by Kazuo Ishiguro.  Questionable taste in clothing; excellent taste in books. 

A young woman encased in a full-length black down coat (it was a cold week here in NYC, thus the appearance rather early in the season of the shearling and down coats featured here) was standing on the uptown 6 platform at Grand Central Terminal reading a green leather-bound copy of Howard's End by E.M. Forster, with gilt page edges. 

A very handsome guy in his mid-30s was reading The Autobiography of Mark Twain  and smiling to himself. 

Park Avenue Divorce Tales

"For what do we live, but to make sport for our neighbors, and laugh at them in our turn?"  On this, the 235th birthday of Jane Austen, I thought there could be no better illustration of that wonderful line from Pride and Prejudice than a divorce anecdote showing human folly in all its glory. 

Most lawyers I know loathe getting involved in a discussion of the division of a divorcing couple's "stuff" (a technical legal term for the crap that fills most of our houses and apartments).  We're not talking about the valuable art work or priceless antiques or oriental rugs here (those are significant assets and are usually valued by neutral appraisers and then divided in some fashion between the parties), but rather the sofa from Crate and Barrel in the basement rec room, the kitchen paraphernalia, the old TV set in the guest room, etc. etc.  As one of my partners says, "I'm not a furniture lawyer; figure it out yourself."  So, except in the bitterest of cases the couple does just that -- they don't bother the lawyers (at, let's face it, ungodly hourly rates) with their disputes over these issues.  Occasionally, however, we DO have to step in.  About ten years ago I had a case where the other lawyer and I had to go the couple's beautifully-appointed Fifth Avenue apartment.  The distribution of the Bosendorfer piano and the Aubusson carpets had already been agreed upon, but they couldn't come to an agreement on -- get this -- the pots and pans and other kitchen things.  The apartment had been the husband's prior to the marriage (a relatively brief, childless union between two older people), so the wife was shortly to vacate the premises.   One evening after work the other attorney and I schlepped up to the apartment to referee the division.  After hours of excruciating debate over the fish poacher and the broiler pan, etc., the wife (not MY client I hasten to add), went into the pantry and began going through the FOOD, including opened boxes of breakfast cereals, indicating that she was going to take them.  My  client was embarrassed, but said "yes, yes, fine."  However, when she got to an unopened jar of white asparagus, my client wouldn't budge.  "NO.  That's it.  No more."  Tears, screaming, etc., but the wife finally relented.  A few months later at Christmas, I sent my long-suffering adversary a jar of white asparagus.  And to this day, whenever we see each other in court, we ask each other if it's asparagus season. 

Object of Desire

I'd love one of these travel backgammon boards from Pickett:

Although first I'd have to memorize this: 

 

 

Lazy Weekend

For the first time in ages I actually had a weekend during which I did NOT go to the office.  Heaven, although I will probably regret it when I'm in the midst of the Monday onslaught.   

On Saturday I was lucky to attend the Metropolitan Opera's new production of Don Carlo.  (I was supposed to see it with a friend on opening night, but a custody case exploded that day and I had to cancel, much to my regret.)  Very minimal, modernistic sets which I usually hate, but the cast was so terrific that they could have been singing in a shopping mall and it wouldn't have mattered.  Roberto Alagna sang the title role, the Russian sensation Marina Poplavskaya played Elisabeth de Valois, and English baritone Simon Keenlyside was Rodrigo.  (He gets my award for "Best Singing While Lying Prone Dying From a Gunshot Wound.")  

Plan for Sunday:  Run some errands, including picking up a couple of the very few Christmas gifts I'm actually buying in person rather than online; go the movies to see The King's Speech; get a start on my Christmas cards; do a couple of loads of laundry.  Actually accomplished on Sunday:  Nothing, unless you count a three-hour afternoon nap.  

Sunday Quote

"Christmas is a season for kindling the fire of hospitality in the hall, the genial flame of charity in the heart."  

-- Washington Irving

Seen on the Subway

I saw a woman in her 20s the other day, wearing one of those knit winter hats that small children used to wear -- the kind that ties under the chin.  Hers was a sort of dirty white, with panda eyes and a bulbous panda nose that jutted out over her forehead.  WHY this woman was wearing headgear that my nine-year old niece would eschew as weird and babyish, I do not know.  All I can tell you is that she was on the uptown 6 train reading At First Sight by Nicholas Sparks.  

A woman in her early 30s with gelled hair was wearing navy blue suede knee boots, unflattering jeans and a leather jacket bearing a Chicago Bulls patch, and was reading The School on Heart's Content Road by Carolyn Chute.  

Park Avenue Divorce Tales

If I sometimes (OK, always) seem a bit jaundiced about my career, my feelings are from time to time reinforced in a particularly funny way.  Two instances:

I was making a court appearance with my client in tow, along with her husband and his attorney, a high-profile member of the criminal defense bar (trust me, you've heard of him) who very occasionally dabbles in matrimonial law. (We'll call him Mr. X).   Mr. X and I proceeded to fill out some required forms at the counsel table, while our respective clients seethed at one another from opposite ends of the courtroom.  Mr. X glanced back at his client over his shoulder, then turned to me and muttered, "Trying a death penalty case is less stressful than this."  I raised my eyebrows, and he explained, "the death penalty clients are in JAIL -- they can't call you seven times a day."  He had a point . . . 

Many years ago I was representing a woman, a fellow attorney who worked in the sex crimes unit of one of the local District Attorneys' offices.  We were working on her financial statement, and I asked some routine question about  her monthly budget or the current balance of her checking account or whatever, and she burst into tears.  "How can you do this for a living?" she sobbed.  I have never forgotten that someone who spent her professional life interviewing rape victims thought that I had a distasteful job.  

A BookishNYC Christmas

I don't know about you, but all of these year-end "Best Of" lists are leaving me a bit fatigued.  Best books, best recordings, best movies, best recipes, best presents for your mother-in-law, husband, brother, lover, surly teenage son, eccentric aunt, co-worker, etc.   But why should that stop me from offering my own suggestions -- bookish and otherwise --  for the holiday season?  

My personal favorite books of the year:  The Hare with Amber Eyes by Edmund de Waal, and Wait for Me by Deborah (Dowager Duchess of) Devonshire:  

For mystery aficionados, I particularly recommend The Sherlockian by Graham Moore, Moonlight Mile by Dennis Lehane, and Portobello by Ruth Rendell.  

  

 

For the music lover:  The Ninth: Beethoven and the World in 1824 by Harvey Sachs:

. . . . and the latest recording from one of my favorite artists, Ian Bostridge, Three Baroque Tenors: 

For the art lover, you can't do better than the catalogue from the Metropolitan Museum of Art's exhibit Man, Myth & Sensual Pleasures: Jan Gossart's Renaissance:  

I loved Bunny Williams' Scrapbook for Living, which is sure to please any design aficionados on your shopping list:

 

 

Any P.G. Wodehouse fan would like this mug, one of a series featuring Penguin Classics covers:  

Gifts of food:  I'm a big fan of the classic peppermint bark from Williams-Sonoma:  

 

Or if you prefer savory to sweet, how about this delectable mixture from Stonewall Kitchen:

Consider these rock crystal and pearl earrings from Kate Hines Jewelry.  Perfect for virtually any woman on your list, in particular divorce lawyers moonlighting as bookish bloggers (ahem!): 

I adore these Christmas ornaments from Bergdorf Goodman -- an elegant lady shopper laden with packages (and of course the iconic lilac-colored Bergdorf's shopping bag), and the doorman ready to help her into her waiting chauffeured car: 

I have previously featured John Derian's fabulous decoupage in these pages, and I love this domed glass paperweight featuring a map of New York's Greenwich Village circa 1857 (other neighborhoods are available as well): 

This Jo Malone candle scented with "English Pear & Freesia" will make your apartment smell so good you won't ever want to leave:

And to cap off a perfect pre-Christmas weekend, why not attend the Festival of Nine Lessons and Carols at the Evensong service on December 19th at 4:00 p.m. at the beautiful St. Thomas Episcopal Church on Fifth Avenue, with its magnificent choir of men and boys?  It's magical: 

 

Tree Lighting at the Metropolitan Museum of Art

Last Thursday evening a friend and I attended a patrons' holiday reception at the Metropolitan Museum of Art, featuring the lighting of the exquisite "Angel Tree," which is decorated with 18th-century Neapolitan figures of angels, and surrounded by an elaborate Neapolitan creche.  Here are some photos of the tree (all photo credits, Metropolitan Museum of Art):  

The tree in place in the medieval sculpture hall:

An angel: 

And another: 

The creche:

The Magi:

Sunday Quote

"My idea of happiness is to be alone in a room in a house full of people."

Antonia Fraser, Must You Go?

Seen on the Subway

My friend "F" had a very amusing sighting on the uptown 6 the other day:  A gentleman in his 60s, with a well-groomed mustache and goatee ("F" thought he looked like a psychiatrist) was reading A Mind of Its Own by David Friedman.  Subtitle:  A Cultural History of the Penis.   

A rather portly guy in his 50s with a florid complexion was reading The Hero's Farewell: What Happens When CEOs Retire, by Jeffrey Sonnenfeld.  

A little girl about eight years old was wearing brightly-flowered rain boots and reading The Problem Child, which a search on Amazon revealed to be the third in the "Sisters Grimm" series by Michael Buckley and Peter Ferguson.  

Park Avenue Divorce Tales

Almost all of my clients have what I call a "committee" -- a collection of well-meaning friends, relatives, neighbors, etc., all of whom want to offer divorce advice.  It is not unusual for me to spend hours with a client (at $600 per hour) carefully outlining his/her options, answering their questions, and recommending a carefully thought-out course of action based on 24 years of experience, only to have them call me the following day to say, "my cousin Fred/my college roommate Sue/another mother at my kids' school/a guy I see at the gym got divorced last year and THEY think . . ."  Aaaagghh!!  My invariable response -- delivered in as innocent and deadpan a manner as I can muster -- is:  "Oh, is he/she a divorce lawyer in New York?  No?  A divorce lawyer ANYwhere?  No?  Well, how about a lawyer of ANY kind?  No?  Uh-huh . . . so, um, why would I -- or you -- be interested in their legal opinion on this issue?"   Sigh.  

Seriously, just because Sue/Fred/the other mom at school/the guy at the gym got divorced doesn't  mean that their respective experiences in the court system have any relevance to yours.  It's not that you shouldn't seek emotional and social support from your "committee" -- by all means, avail yourself of their friendship -- but take any legal advice they start dishing out with a grain of salt.  

There is another stock character in many divorce scenarios, a character that one of my former partners termed a "coat holder."  The "coat holder" is typically another professional -- the client's shrink, or stockbroker, or accountant.  That professional riles the client up by proffering gung-ho advice along the lines of "you need to say blahblahblah, and you tell your lawyer that he/she needs to go into court and take the offensive and tell the judge blahblahblah."   Typically, the client has not really told this other professional the full story, so the cheerleading-type advice they give out so readily is usually based upon a false premise.  And keep in mind that often times the only legal knowledge these other professionals have is derived from a devoted viewing of Law & Order.  But why did my partner refer to them as "coat holders?"  It's because he likened them to a situation where you're in a bar with a friend, and a Hell's Angel sitting a few barstools away is drunk and belligerent and tossing around insults.  Your friend then urges you to punch the guy even though the odds are you'll end up beaten to a pulp:  "You shouldn't put up with that!  Go on, you can take him!  Teach him a lesson!  I'll hold your coat."  LOL!  The point is, these mis-informed professionals are all keen to urge the clients to an aggressive, rash course of action without having any appreciation for the risks involved, and without bearing any responsibility for the consequences that flow therefrom.  I usually tell my client in these situations:  "Tell Dr. Smith/your broker/your accountant that I won't perform psychotherapy/sell securities/prepare tax returns, if he/she stops trying to practice law."