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Anyone who's ever cherished his essays--or even Charlotte's Web--knows that White is the most elegant of all possible stylists. There's not a sentence here that does not make itself felt right down to the reader's very bones. What would the author make of Giuliani's New York? Or of Times Square, Disney-style? It's hard to say for sure. But not even Planet Hollywood could ruin White's abiding sense of wonder: "The city is like poetry: it compresses all life ... into a small island and adds music and the accompaniment of internal engines." This lovely new edition marks the 100th anniversary of E.B. White's birth--cause for celebration indeed. --Mary Park
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White captures a very large city in a very small book. Yet the end this slender volume is as satisfying as a weighty tome because White seems to get the philosophy of New York right.
And I must agree, the final pages seem to eerily fortell September 11, 2001.
If you already love New York, or if you want to know why so many do, pick this baby up and guarantee yourself a good night's reading.
I have many relatives and friends in New York City who are over 70 and have told me many wonderful stories about the late 40s there. Imagine my delight when I discovered that E.B. White had written this magnificent 7,500 word essay about his experiences in the city during the summer of 1948! I have the perfect gift now to help these warm-hearted people happily relive their more youthful days. And those who love New York, regardless of their age, will love this book, as well. So I will need to buy and give many copies of this book.
The book begins with a new introduction by Roger Angell, who is E.B. White's stepson. Mr. Angell was an editor at Holiday who helped arrange for this assignment for Mr. White. Mr. White had gone to live permanently in Maine by this time, so coming to New York was a travel assignment. You may recall that Mr. White had done a stint at The New Yorker during World War II that had brought him to Manhattan, so it was also a homecoming. Mr. Angell points out that many of the scenes described in the essay are now gone, something that Mr. White also pointed out in his introduction to the essay in 1949. In addition, many of Mr. White's complaints would be even more vociferous if uttered today. But one aspect of the work is unchanging, "Like most of us, he wanted it [New York City of an earlier time] back again, back the way it was." So this essay is very much about time-specific memory, and how that evokes moods and thoughts we value most. Change that dilutes those values is to be resisted. As Mr. White said, "New York has changed in tempo and temper during the years I have known it. There is greater tension, increased irritability."
The essay teems with stylish, dynamic prose that reminded me of the vibrancy of the exploding krill population during the summer months in whale feeding grounds. New York was experiencing a heat wave, and there was no air conditioning. Perhaps that's what accounts for the often heavy mood of pessimism, relieved by only a little peek at optimism here and there.
"It is a miracle that New York works at all. The whole thing is implausible."
"Mass hysteria is a terrible force, yet New Yorkers seem always to escape it by some tiny margin . . . ."
"But the city makes up for its hazards and deficiencies by supplying its citizens with massive doses of a supplementary vitamin -- the sense of belonging to something unique, cosmopolitan, mighty and unparalleled."
The great strength of the essay is in its many wonderful, astute observations about New York. First, Mr. White points out that there are three types of New Yorkers: Those who actually were born and live there, those who commute daily, and those who come to realize some ambition. Each adds something important to the pot.
"The city is literally a composite of tens of thousands of tiny neighborhood units." "Each neighborhood is virtually self-sufficient." So in many ways, New York is also about small-town America at this time.
While the city pulses with incredible energy and activity, the New Yorker or visitor has "the gift of privacy, the jewel of loneliness." Small town America never had these qualities. In other words, you can be disconnected from the great events in the city (except for the St. Patrick's Day parade, which is ubiquitous in its noise, as Mr. White points out) if you want to be, and you can retreat from human connection into solitude amongst the masses.
He describes the ethnic groups of the city, from Jews (the largest group) to blacks (a rapidly growing one in Harlem), and comments on the diverse rituals of very different lives. The section on the Bowery and the New Yorker's reactions to the people there was particularly powerful.
He is pessimistic about the new weapons of mass destruction (the atomic bomb at this time), but cheered by the building of the United Nations. "But it [New York] is by way of becoming capital of the world" despite being capital of nothing.
The end of the essay is a meditation on an old willow tree that has been nurtured in a courtyard, a humanizing reminder of nature and of caring . . . and the past. "This must be saved, this particular thing, this very tree." "If it were to go, all would go -- this city, this mischevious and marvelous monument which not to look upon would be like death."
After you have finished meditating on this paean to humanity's strivings, consider your own home town. What does it tell you that is equally uplifting? Write down those thoughts, and share them with your family. You will have made an irresistible connection into the future through the present and the past.