Customer Reviews

Area Code 212: New York Days, New York Nights

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I haven't seen any of Janowitz's writing since Slaves of New York was first in paprback. This is a book I still refer myself back to now and then for some of its best stories ("You and the Boss" and "Kurt and Natasha: A Relationship" come to mind), but this book was followed with the quickly faultering and ultimately bland novel A Cannibal in Manhattan. But the bright spots of Slaves show that there is great promise for Janowitz's work--she does have a sensible way of handling absurdity, and at her best she puts even the most absurd situations in a wonderfully accesible light. This, of course, would seem to be one of the main drives of absurdity--to make even the most fantastic situation sympathetic because it ultimately touches something innately human, something that we could always learn or re-experience.

But when Janowitz goes wrong, the human element goes away, and one is left with a bizarre string of details that do little more than delight in being strange, but with little meaningful appeal. Unfortunately, this may be what Janowitz most enjoys. I saw her read with Howard Mohr, and a good part of her reading involved presenting slides of strange people that she knew in NYC. It was at least a little arrogant, more than a little egocentric, and ultimately carried little interest except for those who already thought that NYC was something of a circus, and here was a ringmaster giving them exactly what they wanted.

This experience was pretty much the same I had when reading this book. In her collection of essays and almost diary-like experiences of NYC, Janowitz presents a host of characters, and mostly herself, but often in such short doses that most of the pieces in here feel like journal entries, but with little attraction beyond the personal or the already-in-the-know. As in the reading, I felt that many of these pieces only held appeal for those already interested or curious about NYC, or maybe those in the NYC clique who can revel in inside jokes or things that remind them of what they already know. Lucky for Janowitz, she has chosen a rather large clique to address, rather than the Rotary Club in Wichita, KS, for example, but too many of these pieces feel horribly underdeveloped and only out to point out oddities in the world, but not out to make them sympathetic. There are some moments of great humor, but they don't sustain, and moreso are defused through extended efforts to make her dogs funny, or her family life.

The biggest disappointment through this was the bravado and arrogance that played subtly throughout this. Granted, Janowitz is rather open about very personal experiences, but it is also laced with an egotism that becomes more apparent in other moments. This is probably when drove my interest out of the book quite quickly.

In all, I found myself lightly curious, but hardly engaged.

Having slogged through several VERY IMPORTANT and no doubt much book clubbed novels of the sort where a trio of southern ladies is glimpsed baking their baked goods while dancing to the Shirelles, it was like taking off a girdle to read these short pieces. Even when certain key points are repeated, belying a sort of publishing house sloppiness, I didn't mind - I'm all for Tama making a buck without having to rework old material that still rings fresh and funny.
Make that very very very funny - and I was gratified that Brooklyn, despite the title, loomed so large. Dang, I should have moved here in the early 80s!