Customer Reviews

The Birthday Party: A Memoir of Survival

5 star:		(42)
4 star:		(20)
3 star:		(10)
2 star:		(11)
1 star:		(4)

 

 

The writer was kidnapped by men with automatic weapons, forcing him into the backseat of a shiny new black Lexus. Money was stolen from the kidnap victim's bank account, and he was held at gunpoint, blindfolded for 26 hours. The writer survived a hellish living nightmare due to his own resourceful answers to kidnappers's questions. Reading his weighing of these answers is one of the MANY great parts of this book. Others are the vividness with which he portrays all the harrowing and terrifying and yes, comical moments of this crime. This is an unbelievable story (law enforcement did not even believe the story for a day or 2!) told unbelievably well.

I had first seen the story of Stanley Alpert on an episode of 48 Hours Mystery awhile back. I was quite intrigued by the story of a federal prosecutor kidnapped on the streets of New York City. When the show hinted that some did not believe the story, I was hooked and had to read the story for myself first hand, so at the end when 48 Hours showed the title of the book he wrote, I put it on my to read list.

The Birthday Party: A Memoir of Survival is the autobiographical account of the kidnapping of Stanley Alpert, a US Assistant District Attorney in New York. After spending the evening with a new female acquaintance, grabbing some cookies and a novel from a local store, walking the lady home, and then sauntering his way home himself, Mr. Alpert was kidnapped at gunpoint by 3 assailants. The idea was that he would be held for a short time while the suspects withdrew money using his ATM card. When the suspects found out how much money he had in his savings account, plans changed. Ironically, the day after the abduction was the victim's birthday, which led to no one seriously questioning his absence until almost 24 hours after the abduction. The book discusses the events prior to the kidnapping, the bizarre details of being held captive, and the prosecution of the abductors after the events.

The book did offer a surprisingly descriptive account of what occurred throughout the ordeal and afterward. I was captivated and did not want to put the book down once the action started. However, I found that the book trailed off dramatically once the victim was released. The post kidnapping was a few pages shy of half the book and while I found the behind the scenes view of the criminal investigation and prosecution interesting, the second half of the book was really a let down after an incredibly interesting first half. I am not faulting the author, it is just that sometimes portions of a non-fiction story are not that interesting.

I found the book to be an uneven combination of riveting action and lackluster details of the prosecution. The writing is basic, but descriptive. I thought the very end when the author discusses his current outlook on life to be very touching and did make me look at myself and ask what was really important. I think the book did offer some significant insight on how to conduct yourself when faced with a kidnapping/hostage situation. I am not saying that the book is a must read for this reason, but a thing or two could be learned from the author's experiences.

Overall, I though this was a solid book that I did enjoy reading. If you are a true crime fan, I think this book is definitely worth the read. The events that unfolded throughout the ordeal really does make for a bizarre story and I could see why some might have questioned if the events really did occur.

J. E. Nelson

I ordered this book after reading a great review in the New York Times and hearing him interviewed on NPR. Both of those were vastly better than the book itself. For this I do not blame the author who is not a writer by trade. I blame the publisher and editors. They couldn't help him out and make it less like a high-school essay? Stream his interview, its a lot more entertaining!

Immediately, the wish is born - I want to see a Coen brothers movie made out if this story!

The genuine Mr. Good Guy ( ok, factor out his death penalty views ), the ideal son-in-law-would-be, a fighter-against-all-odds for the environment, gets kidnapped at gunpoint and held captive by a gang of almost kids, whose "boss" gets robbed by another gang, which throws the good guy's wallet with his credit card somewhere on the street. The woman who finds it, calls his home, and leaves a message that triggers the whole investigation.
In the meantime, he is sitting in his attorney suit on a mattress, being smoked in clouds of marijuana consumed next to him, along with some sex , and making the kidnappers laugh. All the while pondering upon his fate , that has brought him the gangsters on his birthday!

The narrative grabs you by the neck, shoves you into the NYC metro and keeps you reading on.
Because of Mr Alpert's great humor and a sensitive ear for slang and dialects, you are right there, in New York, listening to the people involved, being pushed in your side by a gun, sitting on a a mattress , listening to gangsta rap, then several chapters later, the detectives and DAs are talking to you in the interrogation room of a precinct.

Obviously, this is not a literary oeuvre written to get Stanley Alpert a Pulitzer for non-fiction, but when you think of literature as a term, it is all about story telling, this is some story and the narrator is a remarkable character.

Mr Alpert is methodical, rational and humorous. The book reflects his integrity, humor and intelligence.
In his way of writing you can read his profession - he introduces all the details that seems important or necessary for the story, just like he would present a case in front of a jury.
This is not the book that will have you looking for a great elegance of the sentence, or a sublime use of textual material. You'll read it because of the brilliant character of the narrator, because of what has happened, and because of the way he fought all the obstacles and threats to his very existence. As if going to an entertaining theatre play, or a movie.

But then, it knees you in the guts, that very question, that actually every one of us is secretly fearing on each of our birthdays.
There is this utter authority ( somewhere in the skies, the God, the mother, the cat) , who will ask:
"Man ,what have you been doin' all this time?"
You do not expect it to be a gangsta half your age, yo!
But, the worlds do collide,and for Stanley Alpert, this collision with the ominous Question We All Fear, was the real birthday gift.

This book is remarkable in many ways, because it is true.
It makes an entertaining birthday gift, as well, and not only because of the title.
The story of an ordeal and the recovery from it, reveals the mastery of this man - his ability to communicate and relate to individuals on the equal level, his fight with fears of all kinds and his determination to survive, cherishing life.

This is a great book! yes, the story itself pulls at your emotions and yes there are Lessons. But we are here to buy books --or at least find out which ones to demand that the libary get--and I'd like to stick on point: this is a great book. it tells its story with energy and even if you know the ending (dead men write no books) I for one was pulled in every second, wanting to know How it happened and Why it Happened. Stanley Alpert delivers.

On the eve of his thirty-eighth birthday, a chilly January night in 1998, Assistant U.S. Attorney Stanley Alpert was feeling pretty lucky. On the way home in a New York City subway, he heard a pretty woman talking about work for the United Jewish Appeal, and when the guy accompanying her got off the subway, Alpert struck up a conversation. He mentioned his own UJA connection, and before they separated, he had arranged to invite her for tea some subsequent night. He was feeling good as he walked home in the Village, and may have been so preoccupied with his good fortune that he did not use the training he had developed in his Brooklyn upbringing to "crane my head every which way, prepared to run for my life at the sign of danger." He was five blocks from his home when he felt a tug on his right elbow from behind; from nowhere had come a short, stocky black male, who insisted that Alpert not say a word and just get in a nearby car. An automatic machine gun emphasized the need to obey. And obey he did, for the subsequent harrowing 26 hours. Alpert tells the story of his kidnapping and its outcomes in _The Birthday Party: A Memoir of Survival_ (Putnam), a scary, intense, and often surprisingly comic recollection. Alpert lived to tell the tale, and to see justice done, at least partially because he kept his wits about him and probably more just as a matter of sheer luck.

His experience with criminals and with reading the New York papers had supplied him with the conventional wisdom that "you should never get in the car with the robbers, because if you do you'll never be heard from again." The gun he had seen, however, made any attempt to resist seem very foolish, and once in the car he was informed that it would be used on him "if you do anything stupid". From the beginning, Alpert took whatever limited steps he could to play his role in a smart fashion. When he revealed the extent of his finances (no sense lying since they had the cards and could run a check), his captors were impressed: "What do you _do_ for a living, Stanley?" and this got the answer, "Well... uh... you really kinda picked up the wrong guy. I'm an Assistant U.S. Attorney." They are interested that he is a lawyer, but more amazed that he has such money and no car. And no wife or girlfriend or kids at age thirty-eight. "Stanley, man, you mean you are thirty-eight years old and you don't have a car and you're not married and no kids... What the hell have you been doing?" Alpert had thought about this subject already, plenty, and replied, "You should talk to my parents. They're wondering, too." Again, he wanted to humanize himself, and to show some self-effacing humor, and it worked: "They actually chuckled, mid-kidnapping." Another part of his self protection was allowing his "prosecutor's instincts" to take over. He was blindfolded, but he consciously reinforced memories that he knew would help if a prosecution ever took place, memories like names, steps in stairways of the apartment to which he was taken, and so on. He was eventually released; he had kept his head, cooperated, and treated himself and his captors with respect. As soon as he could call the police, of course, he did, and his friends were jubilant to have him back. The police, however, were skeptical; such a kidnapping ending in a release was too unlikely, and they entertained the more likely suspicions that Alpert was making it all up. The evidence he had collected, however, helped make his unlikely story start to seem true. Within 48 hours, the police were starting to round up the gang, and Alpert has admiration, and gratitude, for how they managed it.

He's a different guy because of the episode. He orders the sushi he wants now, not the bargain dish. "For years, I kept saying how much I wanted to have a dog. Now I have a dog." He also has a car. He is more ready to spend money and have fun. He knows he has no right, by odds, of still being alive, and he is grateful and he enjoys life the more for that (and entreats the reader to learn from his it's-later-than-you-think lessons vicariously). He took the right steps to avoid post traumatic stress disorder. He continues to enjoy his law practice of bringing in polluters, but he still hasn't found the person with whom to settle down and create a family. He says, however, "I refuse to lose hope." It's a winning attitude, reflected even in the darker pages of this exciting memoir.

This was a fun sort of read, much like eating popcorn. You know there is no nutrition it but something about the crunch satisfies.

Sadly our writer needed a better editor. The writer's urge to rely on chestnuts was rarely denied. It became something of a sport, however, to see how many pages Mr. Alpert could type before he gave into another worn cliche. That combined with his strange "hero-worship" of himself made what might of been a good story probably more self-revealing than this author intended.

As I read this book, I kept thinking about what I would do in such a situation. I thought about the things I would do differently, where he might have made mistakes, and where he made the right decisions. I have dealt with kidnap victims, interviewing them and writing about their ordeals, and the author does a great job in bringing the reader along for the ride that he endured. Even while his captors blocked his vision to the outside world, he shows how some of our senses can be greatly enhanced when others are restricted. The author captures the moment, the people, their dialects, the geography, and the atmosphere, with great detail. This vision not only serves the reader well, but saved the author's life.

The book is easy to read, you learn interesting aspects of law enforcement, and as others mentioned, you actually laugh at the absurdities and surprises that life sometimes throws at you. This could have happened to any of us, on any given day, so anyone can relate to it.

If you like this, Gabriel Garcia Marquez's "News of a Kidnapping" is also another good book on the subject.

Began this book with great anticipation, having read an extraordinarliy glowing review in the New York Times. Was somewhat shocked at how inferior the writing was, and how frankly unpleasant the author's personality was as it came through the narrative.

First, to give credit where it is due, the events described in the book, especially prior to the author's release from captivity, are inherently interesting, and the author acted with great courage and resourcefulness in a terrifying situation. That having been said, there was little else to like about the book or the author.

Mr. Alpert apparently thought he was channeling Raymond Chandler or Mickey Spillane. I could barely believe that in this day and age, I was actually reading a criminal's confession being described as, "singing like a canary." Alpert also tried to emphasize his toughness by describing a hardscrabble childhood that certainly does not match what I know of the middle class neighborhoods in Brooklyn where both he and I grew up.

Alpert showed a decidedly juvenile side to his personality. Like a teenager, he seemed to think that constantly using profanity lent his words and thoughts some extra measure of authenticity; to me, it was just gratuitous vulgarity. Similarly, I found it offensive to hear this highly educated 38 year old attorney refer to his female contemporaries as "girls" and even "chicks."

The author also could use a serious ego check. Yes, he deserved to be congratulated for his courage and aplomb, but it would have been nice if he had allowed others to do it instead of constantly doing it himself, as, for example, in describing how the NYPD was able to find the criminals so quickly because of his "incredibly detailed" description of the building where he had been held. Over and over, he would describe his strategy, and then, when it worked, commend himself on how brilliant it had been. His inflated sense of self-importance even led him to question whether the lawyer for the oil company he was suing (he headed the environmental litigation department of his office) was being sincere in expressing happiness that he had escaped unharmed; apparently, Alpert thought his legal skills were so unique that the lawyer on the other side would have preferred that he be killed rather than having to face such formidable opposition. Like many assistant US attorneys (of whom I have encountered many in my career), Alpert seems to believe that only he walks on the side of the angels and knows anything about the law.

Alpert also got on my bad side with his New York bashing. During his ordeal, his friends were unable to get into his apartment to check on him because he had refused to leave a spare key with his super; his explanation was that stories of apartment break-ins by building personnel with keys "were as commmon as mosquito bites in summer." Having lived in NY my entire life (nearly 60 years), and having always left spare keys with supers, as have pretty much all of the people I know, the only stories I have heard were of supers preventing water damage to apartments below by getting into locked apartments whose occupants had left the bathtub running before leaving.

All in all, if I were the author's parent, I would say to him, "Stanley, I love you, and you are brilliant, but don't get kidnapped again and don't write any more books."

Every few months, I receive a chain e-mail detailing the top ten survival tips to observe if you happen to be mugged, carjacked, kidnapped, or held at gunpoint in any other form. (Throw your purse at a distance rather than handing it over; kick out the taillights if you are locked in a trunk, etc.) I have to admit, I always find those lists intriguing -- not because I expect to ever need to use the pointers but because I find myself thinking, "Hmmm, would I have thought of that?"

Toward the end of "The Birthday Party," Stanley N. Alpert's memoir of his 1998 kidnapping and 27-hour internment in the Brooklyn apartment of his gun-wielding teenage captors, Alpert himself receives a list of tips like the ones I'm referring to. By this time, it is months after the ordeal took place. Alpert reviews the list to see how well he "scored" and discovers that with a couple of exceptions, his instincts served him well. According to the list, he did most of what a victim of this kind of crime should do to improve one's chances of survival. And of course, merely by virtue of the fact that Alpert was around to write the book, we readers know that Alpert's experience had a safe and happy outcome.

The first half of this account is devoted to the events of the January night in 1998 when Alpert was snatched off the street in his Manhattan neighborhood, stuffed into a black Lexus with three young men guarding him at gunpoint, and then robbed and held captive for the next 27 hours. Alpert's narrative documents every thought, fear, reflection and misgiving to pass through his mind throughout this harrowing experience while also recording the sometimes bizarre events going on around him in the squalid apartment in which he is held. The kidnappers and their associates come and go; he is offered the services of a teen prostitute; one of them buys him a sandwich and a drink; another one, upon learning that he is an attorney by profession, asks for his legal advice in regard to an upcoming trial. Meanwhile, Alpert alternately reflects internally on the childhood, family life, social life and professional choices that have led up to this point and creates complicated analyses in his head as to how to improve his chances for survival, debating with himself over points as specific as whether urban thugs are likely to be more or less sentimentally predisposed to him if he explains his work as an environmental lawyer.

The second half of the book relates the events after Alpert's release. He reunites with his friends, talks to his parents, aids the police, and then for fifty pages relates the verbatim testimonies of each of the seven suspects. That's fifty pages of talk from people we already know are guilty. Not compelling text, to put it mildly. Moreover, Alpert seems to be channeling the voice of Raymond Chandler with paragraphs like the one on page 292 that includes the phrases "dimed out," "sing like a canary," "sweet song" (in reference to snitching), and "supper of 8-10 years" (to describe an abbreviated prison sentence). Who talks like this? I mean, really, who talks like this?

At one point, I smiled to myself, wondering whether it's possible that neither Alpert nor his editor has ever seen one of those movies that ends with frames of text explaining in two or three sentences what happened to some of the characters after the movie ended. As we wade through fifty pages of criminal testimony like "Yeah, I did it, but I didn't DO it" and "I met him three weeks ago through my cousin, who introduced me to his cousin, who said he just needed me to drive my car but not hold the gun...", we can only cross our fingers that the movie version of this memoir condenses those endless passages with a few final-frame sentences summing up who copped a plea and who didn't.

Though some readers have disparaged Alpert's self-congratulatory style, I was honestly impressed by the intellectual survival instincts that made him hyper-aware of every detail and comment he took in while blindfolded -- the color of the floor tiles, the amount one of the girls paid for cab fare, the name of the deli where they bought lunch, the plans one kidnapper makes to visit his grandmother in Virginia. By absorbing all of these micro-details, Alpert accrues a bank of information to help the police apprehend the perpetrators, and I found that aspect genuinely interesting.

The main problem with Alpert's memoir is that he's not a particularly likable person. First off, let me just say that what happened to him would terrify anyone. No one deserves this kind of treatment, and I do respect the acute mental gymnastics that helped him to escape greater harm. I am also sympathetic to the kind of posttraumatic stress that must have followed his release. There is no question that it must have been a horrific experience, and without question we feel genuine sympathy and compassion for Alpert.

That said, I'd also like to point out that Alpert did not need to spend nearly so much time trying to convince readers of why it shouldn't have happened to HIM. He writes extensively about how he is a brilliant and righteous lawyer, a super-popular guy among Manhattan's best and brightest, a great son, a desirable date, and so on. Although it's interesting to read about his yuppie lifestyle in New York, I resented the implication that he was more undeserving than anyone else of this kind of crime. You shouldn't be held at gunpoint, robbed and threatened regardless of how successful you are professionally or how many friends you have. No need to convince us that it shouldn't have happened to you -- it shouldn't have happened to anyone.

My other quibble is that I was under the belief that in these post-James Frey times, memoirists are expected to be vigilant about qualifying their recollections. Like many other nonfiction accounts published since the Frey imbroglio, Alpert makes mention in his foreword of his priority on accuracy. However, even having made this claim, he goes out on a limb in describing scenes he didn't witness, particularly concerning the actions of his friends. At times, the descriptions are simply superfluous, given that we know he's just guessing: his quasi-girlfriend Darcy "stands up and wraps a large wool scarf around her small neck." Well, sure we believe that Alpert can picture this gesture of Darcy's even without being there, but why bother include it at all when we know he's just synthesizing? At other times, his assumptions about what went on in his absence really stretch credibility. Even if Alpert is every bit as adored by his buddies as he claims to be, am I really supposed to believe that a bunch of male thirtysomething Manhattan lawyers sat around "with red and tearstained faces" as they awaited word of their friend's fate? I do not at all mean to suggest that Alpert's friends were not terribly upset by his disappearance, but my guess is that they were more likely to be making phone calls, asking questions, and demanding information than weeping on each other's shoulders. I wonder how they feel about Alpert's account.

Glad I read it; glad I'm done with it. As another customer reviewer on Amazon said, "Stanley, don't get kidnapped again, and if you do, don't write about it." Violent crime is no joke, and Alpert was lucky to survive this one. He deserves credit for coping so intelligently amidst extremely adverse conditions. He also deserves a more critical editor who knows how to cut text and weed out cliches.