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252 pages, Hardcover
First published March 1, 2008
Before I'd moved to New York, it seemed as though everyone was there, playing cockroaches in experimental plays, or making broody films at Colombia, or working at galleries, or teaching dance to the poor kids in Brownsville or to the rich kids at St. Ann's.
Salinger was not cutesy. His work was not nostalgic. These were not fairy tales about child geniuses traipsing the streets of Old New York.
Salinger was nothing like I'd thought. Nothing.
Salinger was brutal. Brutal and funny and precise. I loved him. I loved it all.
“… But really because the Agency is like something out of Dickens. You step inside, and it’s like you’ve time traveled back a hundred years.”I lived through that era of office environments, and I can relate to the fact that various offices adopted new technology at different rates. One of the things I was reminded of by this book was smoking in the office. How did we all survive those years when smokers were free to pollute the office atmosphere with their smoke. Thank God those days are over.
ʻ “The worst that being an artist could do to you would be that it would make you slightly unhappy constantly.” ... Right now I needed to be slightly unhappy constantly.ʼBut we all live with our own life choices. Her choices led to this book which is more than can be said of my own life choices. I guess I'm too happy and contented to be a writer. Is it possible to be happy and a writer at the same time?