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Set in 2006, Dan Morrison, on a short visit to New York where he once lived, has some time to burn. He decides to walk from the Warwick Hotel to Grand Central Terminal to buy a bus ticket to JFK airport -- an unnecessary errand. As he walks, the sights and sounds of Manhattan stimulate many thoughts, among them relationships between art and fashion. But most importantly, he thinks about several women in his life, including his current and former wives.
Ducking into St. Patrick's Cathedral for a few moments of quiet, Dan forgets that a church can bring to mind a particularly troubling incident -- one he can't seem to resolve -- and to his discomfort, he's forced to try again to make sense of it. Continuing on to his destination, he has an unexpected encounter with a woman that both causes him to wonder about what lies ahead and challenges his values.
Ducking into St. Patrick's Cathedral for a few moments of quiet, Dan forgets that a church can bring to mind a particularly troubling incident -- one he can't seem to resolve -- and to his discomfort, he's forced to try again to make sense of it. Continuing on to his destination, he has an unexpected encounter with a woman that both causes him to wonder about what lies ahead and challenges his values.
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Reviews and Comments
A Powerful Use of the Novella Format
It's unusual to find a story complete and powerful using only three chapters (that's the fine art of the novella format, and one which is too rarely used to its best advantage); but one example of such prowess lies in Manhattan Morning, a Proust-like exploration of New York that centers on one man's long walk and his internal and external sensory impressions during it.
As Dan revisits his past and chooses deliberate, purposeful methods for juxtaposing past habits with present situations, he carries the reader along a journey down memory lane that is steeped in New York atmosphere and culture. ("Dan had lived in New York during a previous marriage and couldn't abide the thought of having drinks in a hotel room on his first night back. ... He had wanted to pay by leaving a few bills on the bar and walking away - just the way he had always done."
During the course of his walk, Dan is challenged on many levels and is forced to consider the tricks and traps of musing on old memories ('Why had he stopped in St. Patrick's? Of course it would happen. Self-flagellation. In a church. How appropriate!'). He also confronts the methods by which the few women in his life have successfully changed its course.
Take the impressions of Proust, mix them with the introspection of Bellow, add a healthy dose of Manhattan atmosphere to the concoction, then stir. What emerges is an evocative self-reflection that translates the sights, sounds and culture of Manhattan and blends them with a protagonist's contrast of 'then and now' in a novella recommended for readers interested in vivid impressions of New York and one man's attempt to make sense of this world."
by D. Donovan, Senior Reviewer, Midwest Book Review
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A Quirky Walk Around Manhattan
Dan Morrison, in his early 30s, takes his urban hike on a morning when he’s mostly killing time. His second wife, Marcy, and his mother-in-law, Gloria, are preparing for an all-female alum lunch at Barnard. He is relaxed and free of his normal high-pressure job in Philadelphia as a marketing executive. He’s in a mood to observe and meditate.
The tour begins at the Warwick Hotel, which William Randolph Hearst built for a woman whom Gloria calls a paramour—an old-fashioned term that draws derision from Marcy and a stifled laugh from Dan.
Dan, who had lived in New York with his previous wife, Helen, had skipped the hotel room’s mini-bar the night before in favor of its Randolph watering spot because he had "wanted to experience a sense of place, a sense of belonging, however briefly. He had wanted to pay by leaving a few bills on the bar and walking away, the way he had always done. That was one thing Helen always had admired about him, even at the end. Style mattered to Helen."
Dan, Marcy and Gloria are staying at the ornate Warwick because Gloria honors her late architect husband, Alfred, who 'so detested the straight line.'
That lineal thought, like so many matters in this story, glides on to further analysis and associations as Dan walks the streets.
Dan wonders if the straight line connotes rigidity, maybe even totalitarianism. Or does it have its uses, he muses when he stands in front of the University Club and reflects that its 'fussy decorative touches create plenty of places for Manhattan’s grit to lodge.' The lively mental discussion leads on to the Dutch De Stijl school, which forbade diagonals.
But the straight line is not just architectural. It has a special meaning for Dan because architect Alfred designed the church in Ohio where his family worshiped. It is the church in which an event occurred years earlier that was to rock Dan when he first heard about it. The scene returns to him disturbingly this morning when he visits St. Patrick’s Cathedral as he reflects on churchly words: 'Father. God. God the father. Creator. Architect. Minister. Passion. Concepts as sexual as they were religious.'
Dan’s expert commentary when he passes such fashion palaces as Gucci, Fortunoff, Brooks Brothers and Ferragamo stems from living with Helen, who worked in the fashion industry before pulling out of their marriage. Outside Fendi, he conjures up a life for one of the headless but splendidly dressed manikins in the window. In rich detail, he gives her an attractive head with natural blond hair and imagines her on the patio of an expensive house in late spring with two attentive men. If Helen had been present, she’d have taken up the story, "and soon they would know everything about that girl—Helen wouldn’t be able to resist revealing a few catty secrets—and for some time the girl would be part of their life."
During the walk, Dan watches signs with amusement. A kiosk shouts: "Dutch Herring Alert!" Sign on a truck: "Abco Refrigeration Supply. Sixteen convenient branches." The question: How many inconvenient ones? On a bistro: "Now the busiest and best breakfast in New York." But which establishment previously held the title?
He listens to street conversations that come into range and then leave it behind, cutting short the story:
"...it’s part sales, but it’s also part sales less expenses..."
"...like, are you kidding? It’s very hard to come up with down to the letter..."
Dan thinks: “Real Manhattan living. Away from the tourists. Walking, talking, doing business.
Woman to a cell phone at the bus ticket sales office for LaGuardia and Kennedy: “So what are you up to, honey?”
Noise gets parsed into components. Outside Grand Central: “A couple of sirens were blaring a few blocks off, competing with the insistent staccato of a jackhammer somewhat closer by. Trucks hitting a steel plate in the street added to the din. People standing near Dan as he waited to cross 42nd were talking, but he could scarcely hear a word.”
Grand Central Terminal is a particularly fertile source of lore and associations. One poignant memory is stirred by the terminal’s starry ceiling, designed by Paul Cesar Helleu, a French painter of the Belle Epoch. As Dan surveys the ceiling, he recalls Helen on their honeymoon in London. Dan bought her a Helleu print of the painter’s own beautiful wife. Dan had told Helen, “It’s you. That’s the way I see you.” But the marriage had not turned out the way Dan had foreseen it, and he didn’t know whether he was more hurt by its failure or by the collapse of his own self-image.
Dan and Marcy have talked about children, but without coming to a decision. It is in Grand Central that the story reaches its climax resulting from Dan’s chance encounter with a young business woman, a mother of three children now at home with a babysitter. She is harried but happy and in love with her husband. Their brief conversation prompts Dan to think carefully about the future that’s in store for himself and Marcy.
The title of this arresting and compelling story is an hommage to John Dos Passos’s "Manhattan Transfer."
by James C. Furlong, retired journalist and writer
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A Fine Thing, Graceful and Charming
The book is charming, gracefully written, and wise in its own modest and winsome way. I read it in one enjoyable sitting and immediately told my wife that she must read it soon.
I know that area in NYC, in and around 5th and 54th, for once upon a time I was a member of the University Club (best thing about it is its upstairs library, which almost no one uses). So I followed your steps down to St. Patrick's with all the stores and all the voices along the way.
The middle story is told with generosity of spirit towards all participants and never gets near either the sensational or the exploitative. You do this well (and I must assume that at least some part of it is based on events you know well). I was wholly absorbed in the chronology. And the mother-in-law is something to behold!
The last story is touching in its simple human beauty. You made me present and I enjoyed the company.
So thank you. I might give the book away, per your instruction, but rather think I will keep it. It is a fine thing.
It is a haunting work of fascinating contrasts, elusive, bittersweet nostalgia in a mosaic-precise setting. You aren’t easy on the reader left wondering about Dan and Helen, Dan and Marcy – their relationships – never mind Gloria – and so your quirky ending is as surprising as it is charming.
The book is charming, gracefully written, and wise in its own modest and winsome way. I read it in one enjoyable sitting and immediately told my wife that she must read it soon.
I know that area in NYC, in and around 5th and 54th, for once upon a time I was a member of the University Club (best thing about it is its upstairs library, which almost no one uses). So I followed your steps down to St. Patrick's with all the stores and all the voices along the way.
The middle story is told with generosity of spirit towards all participants and never gets near either the sensational or the exploitative. You do this well (and I must assume that at least some part of it is based on events you know well). I was wholly absorbed in the chronology. And the mother-in-law is something to behold!
The last story is touching in its simple human beauty. You made me present and I enjoyed the company.
So thank you. I might give the book away, per your instruction, but rather think I will keep it. It is a fine thing.
by WC, a retired professor of English Literature
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A Haunting Work of Fascinating Contrasts
by PLL, a New Yorker and writer of several books of non-fiction
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by KT, a journalist and researcher
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Great Work If Challenging in Some Respects
As you probably already know, I am not particularly a city girl and I can count on one hand the number of days I’ve spent in Manhattan. So your novella is almost like going to a foreign country for me. Since it is written as if Dan were taking photographs, describing what he sees which then prompt associations and memories, I wish I knew Manhattan better. It would make the book that much more enjoyable for me. Both you and Dan know the area both as an outsider and a resident, or ex-resident in Dan’s case.
The whole Ulysses concept of the book works well. It’s fun to follow another person around, both physically and in their heads. Dan pays attention to things that I probably wouldn’t, like ads and window displays and fashion. Of course Dan is into marketing and advertising, so it makes sense. He sees two homeless men, but he doesn’t go off on a tangent in his head about homelessness, as I often do. So much the better. I could imagine your going around NYC with a small notebook and having a great time observing, overhearing, eating, etc to gather information to include.
It’s a little hard for me to relate to the women in your book---Gloria, Marcy and Helen. Only Sheryl at the end seems like my kind of person, but mostly because this is the most vivid scene in the book for me. The dreaminess of the rest of the book is suddenly gone. She is real, but the others are just what Dan is telling me. Since he has such a strong sense of self-doubt and mild sense of failure, I’m not sure I trust his stories about the others. I just realized that this is written not in the first person, but third, so perhaps the author is telling me he is not very reliable? In any case, his own self-doubt generates mine as a reader.
Dan is a lovable guy, with low self-esteem and a sense of confusion about who he is and what he wants. He is very human, though a little mysterious to me. The final scene is just wonderful, because I get a better sense of Dan’s better side and how he acts in the world, generously and with an openness and curiosity. I like the ending, which leaves me to ponder Dan’s future.
All in all, a fun ride and I wish you the best in getting it out there in the world. I hope it was fun to write, as I imagine it was. I did appreciate the Introduction as a way to orient the reader.
Great work!
by KB, a retired therapist living in the Bay Area of California
(My response: Thanks again for taking the time to read and comment on “Manhattan Morning.”
As for photographs, I can’t recall if I mentioned it, but there is a photographic walking tour on my author’s website (see page two of “MM”) and the excerpts that accompany the photos contain hypertext links to explanatory material for references in the text, such as the painter Childe Hassam, with whom readers may not be familiar.
I first took the walk without a camera and took notes. Then I went back and did it again with a camera so as to make sure certain details would be correct. New York changes all the time, of course, and some of the photos are already out of date. For instance, Dan’s destination – the place to buy tickets and catch a bus to JFK or LaGuardia – has moved somewhere else.
Knowing Manhattan: readers who know and like Manhattan have definitely been more enthusiastic about the book than those who don’t. For the first group, the depiction of the city has provided sufficient pleasure to overcome the shortcomings of the plot. A number of friends have said, that in their view, the plot is too thin or two straight-forward (devoid of good twists that keep one going). I have greatly appreciated their candor.
You liked the ending, and that has proven to be popular with most readers. In fact, a couple of people have told me that it saved the story for them. They didn’t find what you describe as the more dreamy portions of the book all that interesting, but the final episode brought Dan to life for them. You hit the nail on the head in saying that the ending left you pondering Dan’s future because I think it is fair to say, that is what he himself was doing when Sheryl departed to catch her train. What Sheryl had to say constituted something of a “reset” for him.
Ulysses: when I wrote “MM” I had been thinking specifically of Dos Passos rather than Joyce, but I suppose that Ulysses was in the back of my mind in that, very superficially to be sure, one can see certain similarities – following a man as he wanders around city streets, all the action in a very limited time frame (not counting Marcy’s affair), a certain amount of inner monologue and lots of external references. And like Joyce, I was trying to write something that would require the reader to think (although not to the same degree!). Some people didn’t like that: for them, fiction should be a largely a relief from having to think unless they want to do so. One can try to solve the mystery of a detective story, or just keep reading and enjoy the twists and turns before all is (generally) revealed. That’s fair enough.
The story about Marcy’s affair was rather long (in the context of the length of the novella) for a couple of reasons. First, after inventing Gloria, I discovered I really enjoyed writing about her and she sort of took on a life of her own. In the end, I had to reel her in so that she wouldn’t steal the show. One reader, who liked her more than any other character, said he could envisage her part being played by Bette Davis with Bette winning an Oscar for it. Well, that’s going too far, but one gets the point.
The second reason had to do with the minister, Saddleford, to whom I devoted a lot of print. First, he was important to me in an intellectual autobiographical sense in that he was a vehicle through which I could bring up issues to which I have given a lot of thought for one reason or another – Partition, deindustrialization, demographic change, the role of churches in their communities, etc. But he also is the main vehicle through which a key question with which Dan is wrestling is played out: what should he (Dan) think of a person who does good things, or makes an important intellectual contribution, but is morally flawed – in his own terms, not on terms imposed on him by others – and what does Marcy’s participation say about her? To avoid making this a pastiche, Saddleford’s good side had to be significant and convincing, and that took a lot of words, relatively speaking.
But it has been interesting: only one person has talked about Saddleford as a character in and of himself. Pretty much everyone else who has commented hasn’t mentioned him at all.
You got a sense of incompleteness with respect to the tale of Marcy’s affair and I think that may be particularly true with respect to Marcy herself. She was initially more of a shadow, but there is a lot more about her in the latest draft after various early readers complained.
Dan’s low self esteem: I definitely have more trouble writing about men than about women (there’s a topic for therapy!). As you and your husband (among others) the men I write about tend to come across as too passive. My old girlfriend, now an English professor, read MM in draft form and complained about the same thing. As a result, I tried to add some material emphasizing that Dan was very busy and successful in his marketing career and was simply enjoying a day off, but it clearly hasn’t been convincing. But, yes, at the same time he does feel a sense of confusion about certain things in his personal life. As a family member would put it, he hasn’t successfully “processed” certain matters. Does that translate into low self-esteem? I was left wondering about that.
The various women: they are all, with the exception of Sheryl, not people you personally would likely come across in your life and often, when one reads fiction, one wants to relate to one or more characters and hopefully then better understand oneself as their stories play out and they deal with various issues and problems. I think that has been a problem for other readers, too. These women are a little too much off the chart. Sometimes that is a plus – people what to get to know something new.
Re homelessness: like you, I tend to think about that more than I want to (since my thoughts don’t go anywhere very useful) when I see homeless people on the streets so I suppose it is interesting – perhaps even an omission – that Dan didn’t experience any associative thoughts in the situations you mentioned. It’s interesting in part because housing-related topics were in his thoughts earlier when he contemplated the destination of certain buses. So thanks for pointing that out.
On another matter, you definitely added things up correctly with respect to Dan’s interest in window displays and other evidence of marketing, even when he is off duty. If this story were more intensively narrated, the narrator would probably make that connection clear to readers, but in this case, readers have to figure it out for themselves and not everyone has. As for fashion, he lived in the shadow of his former wife (maybe that’s where the low self-esteem comes from) and fashion was her life – as it is for a great many New Yorkers. It is a major industry in the city.
Lastly – and most interesting – were your comments on reliability. Yes, an important part of the story is told from a third-person perspective – we are sharing Dan’s thoughts and he is thus narrating the events for us – and are those thoughts reliable? It is a very good question and one that occurs to Dan, himself. At one point, he wonders what Saddleford’s side of the story would be – whether the minister might maintain it was Marcy who initiated things. Questions might be raised about other aspects of the story as well – because of just who is telling it to us.
But it has been interesting: only one person has talked about Saddleford as a character in and of himself. Pretty much everyone else who has commented hasn’t mentioned him at all.
You got a sense of incompleteness with respect to the tale of Marcy’s affair and I think that may be particularly true with respect to Marcy herself. She was initially more of a shadow, but there is a lot more about her in the latest draft after various early readers complained.
Dan’s low self esteem: I definitely have more trouble writing about men than about women (there’s a topic for therapy!). As you and your husband (among others) the men I write about tend to come across as too passive. My old girlfriend, now an English professor, read MM in draft form and complained about the same thing. As a result, I tried to add some material emphasizing that Dan was very busy and successful in his marketing career and was simply enjoying a day off, but it clearly hasn’t been convincing. But, yes, at the same time he does feel a sense of confusion about certain things in his personal life. As a family member would put it, he hasn’t successfully “processed” certain matters. Does that translate into low self-esteem? I was left wondering about that.
The various women: they are all, with the exception of Sheryl, not people you personally would likely come across in your life and often, when one reads fiction, one wants to relate to one or more characters and hopefully then better understand oneself as their stories play out and they deal with various issues and problems. I think that has been a problem for other readers, too. These women are a little too much off the chart. Sometimes that is a plus – people what to get to know something new.
Re homelessness: like you, I tend to think about that more than I want to (since my thoughts don’t go anywhere very useful) when I see homeless people on the streets so I suppose it is interesting – perhaps even an omission – that Dan didn’t experience any associative thoughts in the situations you mentioned. It’s interesting in part because housing-related topics were in his thoughts earlier when he contemplated the destination of certain buses. So thanks for pointing that out.
On another matter, you definitely added things up correctly with respect to Dan’s interest in window displays and other evidence of marketing, even when he is off duty. If this story were more intensively narrated, the narrator would probably make that connection clear to readers, but in this case, readers have to figure it out for themselves and not everyone has. As for fashion, he lived in the shadow of his former wife (maybe that’s where the low self-esteem comes from) and fashion was her life – as it is for a great many New Yorkers. It is a major industry in the city.
Lastly – and most interesting – were your comments on reliability. Yes, an important part of the story is told from a third-person perspective – we are sharing Dan’s thoughts and he is thus narrating the events for us – and are those thoughts reliable? It is a very good question and one that occurs to Dan, himself. At one point, he wonders what Saddleford’s side of the story would be – whether the minister might maintain it was Marcy who initiated things. Questions might be raised about other aspects of the story as well – because of just who is telling it to us.
This, as I’m sure you know, has become an important issue in literary criticism in recent decades and, if pushed too far, can lead to arguments (Derrida, etc.) that no text can have a definite meaning.
But I think your point is a good one: given what we know about him, or think we know about him, to what extent can Dan be trusted to tell us about others?
Best wishes to you both – and again, many, many thanks. A number of friends have been very generous participants in all this and you are certainly at the top of the list! Like Sheryl, I feel fortunate!)
But I think your point is a good one: given what we know about him, or think we know about him, to what extent can Dan be trusted to tell us about others?
Best wishes to you both – and again, many, many thanks. A number of friends have been very generous participants in all this and you are certainly at the top of the list! Like Sheryl, I feel fortunate!)
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This is a Failure on Just About All Fronts
If you are going to stay with the writing habit, I strongly recommend that you take a creative writing class either at U.W. or one of the community colleges. You may not buy into everything said, but much of it will be instructive. Here is what I think my best writing teacher, James Sallis (author of "Drive") and others in his class would likely say about M.M.
People read nonfiction for content, fiction for entertainment. Fiction runs on tension. The author must establish tension very early on to draw in the reader and involve him/her. What happens to the characters must matter. Dan’s blasé interior monologue does not draw us in; we don’t care about him. The tone is tepid, and, really, nothing much happens. Even Dan’s musings are rife with “maybe” and “perhaps." The woman’s confession to an affair with the Episcopalian priest comes late but holds promise. It could interest us, but the narrative manages to blunt this potential. Scarlet Letter, Elmer Gantry, these work because there’s passion and sin matters. M.M. does almost everything imaginable to deflate. The priest has a half excuse because his wife is a lesbian. He is not a sexual predator. Marcy feels no passion. Nor is the priest head over heals. They are caught with their shoes off, not clothes and the group apology seems contrived and overwrought. There’s not even a description of the sex. Throughout humor is lacking. If Marcy is just enjoying a physical release with an attractive man, shouldn’t she call him her fuck buddy? Just because they are Episcopalians, doesn’t mean that their relationship, like their religion, must be dry. The real life Episcopalian charismatic priest/parishioner affairs are anything but. And, why does Marcy insist on opening her relationship with Dan by confessing to a dangerous but dispassionate affair? Is it a come on? Is there something weird in her psychological makeup? Does it foreshadow kinky things to come or Dan’s discovery that she is crazy. Maxim No. 2: if you show the reader a gun (and this is one), at some point it has to go off. The reader is left hanging about Marcy’s motivation and the role, if any, her unsanctified affair plays in her later relationship with Dan
Maxim No. 1, as you have heard repeatedly is “Show, don’t tell.” Almost the only thing M.M. shows is New York City, and it not vividly. There’s no clatter of plates or pervasive clam chowder smell in the Oyster Bar. No dim light, overly varnished nautical style oak railing or, if I remember correctly, saw dust on the floor. The reader has almost no idea what the characters look like. Sure, Trollope did not offer much physical description of his characters, but he wrote in the 19th C. Movies and television have changed the writer’s landscape. People are more visual now. Sallis crucified me for my early stories’ pictorial deficiency. “Write in scenes,” is a mantra he correctly forced upon me. The trick is to do it economically with two or three carefully chosen, untrite features. "Olive Kitteridge" by Elizabeth Strout is a good example of how this is done. The rule is so universally accepted that even historians use it in non-fiction. See, for example "The Day of Battle" by Rick Atkinson.
I hope you don’t find this missive discouraging. Only a good, trusting friend would tell you these things.
by TG, a lawyer with other interests who lives in Arizona
(My response: Thanks very much for taking the time to read MM – a real trial for you, I can see. I greatly appreciate it and I appreciate you taking the time to comment.
I am not upset by your comments because I expected something along those lines. While I have not taken courses, or seminars, as you have, I am familiar with what they have to offer thanks to a fair amount of reading on the topic. I think that what you said below comports very well with what might be called “best practices” or perhaps prevailing conventional wisdom. I say prevailing because as you point out, this changes from time to time.
But having said that, your comments about what you found wanting in particular were illuminating and very useful. Having had a number of things read by various people now, it is always disappointing when readers fail to be sufficiently critical.
I think we can agree that MM is far from commercial fiction (which is a sub-category of literature albeit the most lucrative one). In truth, this is not a "me-too" book characterized by familiar writers' workshop "craft."
Leaving commerce aside, the question still arises as to whether MM is “good” or not and, of course, you have argued that it is not – in spades. Fair enough. I have no particular dispute about that. Everyone is welcome to his or her opinion and once again, I thank you for wading through it since it was obviously pretty apparent to you that it did not meet your standards in that respect pretty much right from the beginning. Beyond the call of duty! But, what are friends for? And I have been exceptionally fortunate with mine.
I complement you for quickly realizing that MM did not comport with the entertainment value generally associated with fiction. (“People read nonfiction for content, fiction for entertainment.”) Not everyone has understood that MM is not intended to meet conventional expectations even though I think the introduction makes it adequately clear as to what is going to be forthcoming. It is fair warning. So you were spot-on there as well as with respect to various other things.
As for humor, I have to confess that I am a bit disappointed that you failed for find Gloria amusing, but humor, like beauty, tends to be in the eye of the beholder so, once again, fair enough.
As for “show, don’t tell,” that’s one I can definitely do without. I’ve listened in on various events and seen too many situations where what is “show” to one person is “tell” to another, and vice versa. If someone doesn’t like something, it is condemned as “tell” and if the reverse, it is praised as “show.” I’m sure there are those who can parse it out in convincing fashion and it sounds like you have benefited from their wisdom and I’m sure that, like in so many things, I have much to learn there, but in the meantime, other criticisms carry far more weight.
Likewise, the manner in which some historians write history these days is not for me. History is a problematic topic in both the best and worst of times, but current attempts to popularize it stray easily into what might be called fraud. But, once again, to each his own. Such books sell and for the most part, that is what matters.
One minor quibble – and this is very minor, indeed. The reason there is no clatter of plates or pervasive smell of clam chowder in the Oyster Bar is because Dan’s luncheon encounter does not take place in the Oyster Bar. But, then again, one could argue that if that is not immediately apparent to the reader, it is yet another shortcoming. (Even more minor, your memory is not correct. There is no sawdust on the floor of the Oyster Bar, but one can easily imagine that there should be. My guess is, however, that it wouldn’t pass muster with prevailing NYC restaurant health and cleanliness regulations. But that’s an advantage of fiction – one can put it there regardless if that would be more evocative of a certain mood or ambiance.))
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Lots of Things to Like in This, if Ultimately Not My Style of Fiction
I took your novela down to Mexico and gave it a read. Premise: I am a very poor candidate to take on a reading of a "Modernist" piece of literature--I gave Dos Passos a try in the '60s, thinking that his leftist leanings in the '20s might be in evidence in the novel (and that it might be an urban, peace-time version of Silone's "Pan e Vino," but I never got much beyond his p. 25. So for me to give you my take on your novella is a little like asking someone who has a dislike of absurdist theater to assess La Cantatrice Chauve.
That said, let me give my likes and dislikes about a few specific things, as well as a few off-hand comments about this, that, and the other:
--Fine jeu de mots on "appreciation"--right on the money. Liked very much your sketch of Marcy's mother -- Bette Davis would have won an Oscar for her performance as "Gloria" (in compensation for not getting it for her role in "All About Eve").
--Chapeau bas to you for citing Toennies' "Gemeinschaft und Gesellschaft" -- but while your recollection about "trust" and homogeneous communities is not off the mark, it's far less important than his great insight (inspired by Hobbes) that in Gesellschaft people tend to think in a calculating way that strips the means we employ to realize ends down to their instrumental value pure and simple--whereas in Gemeinschaft means are also invested with an affective value that transcends their instrumental efficacy. I kinda like an example that harkens back to Eddie Joost, a shortstop for the Phila. A's in the late '40s and early '50s, during the days when infielders still left their gloves on the field after the 3rd out had been registered against the other team (a practice banned by Ford Frick in 1954); a fan remembered that Joost made a point of tossing his glove each time to exactly the same spot behind 2nd base and always checked to see whether he'd hit the mark; players loved that old ritual, I think, (and there was some question at the time as to whether they would actually resist Frick's edict) because it was something they carried over from the days of sandlot ball when they'd played the game as poor kids and there weren't enough gloves to go around to all the players. Not an "efficient" practice, but their hearts clung to it.
--Liked the way you characterized the "broad-mindedness" of Episcopalians.
--Liked very much your meticulous treatment of Gloria's "damage control".
--Nice portrait of Reginald Saddleford.
--Not aware that "bleacher seats" are endowed with a "moral" status--and though they used to have a class status, perhaps, even that has not endured at Wrigley, where you're almost as likely to find the day-traders and real-estate developers in the bleachers as in the boxes (the cost of the bleachers is generally beyond the reach of working stiffs now too).
--Loved the equivalency of Bennett Cerf with "Mr. Magoo", an alias I sometimes use when asked to give a name waiting for a table at a resto.
As for the two main characters, Dan and Marcy, they frankly didn't have a lot of traction for me. I mean, geez Louise, everything is okay if it's "natural" (Marcy)? And Dan, who can't imagine spending a free afternoon in Manhattan in a better way than taking glimpses of the clothing draped on the manikins and women parading in and by the glitzy stores of the East Side (is this guy a cross-dresser or a closeted bi-sexual?). I don't have much interest in visiting NYC these days (though I lived there for 3 years in the '60s), but if I did go, I know I wouldn't spend one minute on the East Side in the 50s. I generally disdain "marketing execs" as a fictional type--their heads are filled with nicely fashioned phrases in praise of crap. The exception is when such types have an edgy side to them (a` la Jack Lemmon in "Save the Tiger"--loved Bunny Berigan's trumpet solo on "I Can't Get Started"), and Dan doesn't have much of an edge to him (disturbed by sex in a church office room??? Is this guy an ex-LDSer?). Thanks to your gift as a writer, Dan has an exceptional talent for giving the reader detailed descriptions of swatches of empirical reality--evidencing a mastery of the nouns and adjectives to designate the same. Dan paints a dense portrait in words of what he sees and hears around him (something far removed from my writing style and abilities, which are largely polemical and sentimental/nostalgic). But I'm the kind of reader who likes a good tale (I particularly like Vargas Llosa for that reason), and, frankly, this novella was thin in the story line. But no matter, you set out to write an impressionistic descriptive tour de force, and, by that measure, I'd say you succeeded very well.
by LG, a retired professor of Political Science who lives in Chicago
(My Response: Thanks very much for taking the time to read MM and even more for taking the time to send along your thoughts.
I agree that the piece was thin from a story-line point of view – too thin for many (or perhaps most) readers in this fast-paced age. Of the people who have so far read it and who have been kind enough to comment, those who have liked it best have liked it because of the depiction of Manhattan (which they enjoy) as opposed to for the plot. A couple of people (like you) have found Dan’s disengagement hard to take and said only the ending saved it for them. Most readers have commented favorably on the ending and I have NS to thank for, among other things, helping me get the last few sentences right.
When I started writing, Gloria was a more minor figure than she turned out to be. Writers sometimes claim that characters can take on lives of their own and that was certainly the case with respect to Gloria, who I greatly enjoyed depicting. In the end, I had to rein her in to prevent her from stealing the show.
Dan, as a person, has not been anyone’s favorite so your views are in the mainstream there, although stated in a more interesting and provocative manner than what others have said. He’s in marketing largely to reflect our times: if you ask young people what they do these days, it is astounding how many will tell you they are in marketing in one form or another.
You are the first person to have mentioned Rev. Saddleford who is a character to whom I devoted a lot of time. As I mentioned in my letter, MM is in part intellectual autobiography in the sense that I wanted to bring up (without being didactic) various topics that I have spent time thinking about for one reason or another over the years. Saddleford is a very important vehicle for that, both with respect to Partition and with respect to problems stemming from de-industrialization, changing demographics and urban blight. His behavior also serves to raise the question what should one think about someone who does good things, or makes important intellectual contributions, but has moral shortcomings – such as Heidegger, for instance. The story doesn’t come down one way or the other, but simply raises the issue as worth considering.
Other readers have also not talked much about Marcy, so your views are interesting there. Dan and Marcy got connected as a result of circumstances – on the rebound in different ways in both cases – as opposed to because they felt they were right for each other from the get-go. As we see him thinking things over, Dan is concerned that they may have differing values, in part because of the age difference, but also because of Marcy’s way of thinking about things. (She’s clearly not your kinda girl!)
Thanks for your very interesting explication of G&G, which leaves Dan, a bit of a dilettante, in the dust. (I have for many years told people that getting into journalism was an act of self-preservation for me because it is the only profession that rewards dilettantes – all others punish them. But then some (the British) would say it is not a profession, just a trade, and they may be correct.)
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(My Response: Thanks very much for taking the time to read MM and even more for taking the time to send along your thoughts.
I agree that the piece was thin from a story-line point of view – too thin for many (or perhaps most) readers in this fast-paced age. Of the people who have so far read it and who have been kind enough to comment, those who have liked it best have liked it because of the depiction of Manhattan (which they enjoy) as opposed to for the plot. A couple of people (like you) have found Dan’s disengagement hard to take and said only the ending saved it for them. Most readers have commented favorably on the ending and I have NS to thank for, among other things, helping me get the last few sentences right.
When I started writing, Gloria was a more minor figure than she turned out to be. Writers sometimes claim that characters can take on lives of their own and that was certainly the case with respect to Gloria, who I greatly enjoyed depicting. In the end, I had to rein her in to prevent her from stealing the show.
Dan, as a person, has not been anyone’s favorite so your views are in the mainstream there, although stated in a more interesting and provocative manner than what others have said. He’s in marketing largely to reflect our times: if you ask young people what they do these days, it is astounding how many will tell you they are in marketing in one form or another.
You are the first person to have mentioned Rev. Saddleford who is a character to whom I devoted a lot of time. As I mentioned in my letter, MM is in part intellectual autobiography in the sense that I wanted to bring up (without being didactic) various topics that I have spent time thinking about for one reason or another over the years. Saddleford is a very important vehicle for that, both with respect to Partition and with respect to problems stemming from de-industrialization, changing demographics and urban blight. His behavior also serves to raise the question what should one think about someone who does good things, or makes important intellectual contributions, but has moral shortcomings – such as Heidegger, for instance. The story doesn’t come down one way or the other, but simply raises the issue as worth considering.
Other readers have also not talked much about Marcy, so your views are interesting there. Dan and Marcy got connected as a result of circumstances – on the rebound in different ways in both cases – as opposed to because they felt they were right for each other from the get-go. As we see him thinking things over, Dan is concerned that they may have differing values, in part because of the age difference, but also because of Marcy’s way of thinking about things. (She’s clearly not your kinda girl!)
Thanks for your very interesting explication of G&G, which leaves Dan, a bit of a dilettante, in the dust. (I have for many years told people that getting into journalism was an act of self-preservation for me because it is the only profession that rewards dilettantes – all others punish them. But then some (the British) would say it is not a profession, just a trade, and they may be correct.)
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Your Descriptions of Place Came Alive for Me
by JF, an artist now living in New Mexico
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Very thought-provoking. I didn't realize you knew so much about fashion. I'd be interested in talking more about the book when we get together next.
by FG, a close friend who has devoted his life to social justice issues
(My response: I don't really know much about fashion. (That's the secret of journalism -- one learns how to write about things you don't actually know much about.) I suppose I became aware of it when I first went to London in 1968 -- the "Swinging London" era of miniskirts, etc. -- and lived just off the King's Road where there was a weekly, informal "fashion parade." Then I got to know slightly a Japanese fashion designer in Japan and for a while had a Japanese-American girlfriend who sometimes worked as a model. Back in London, after the oil crisis, everything had changed and the prevailing King's Road fashion was Punk. Later, it became all the rage of the high-end crowd. Most of what I know (same for just about everything) comes from reading the New York Times, where fashion is a constant topic because it is such an important industry in NYC. For a while I read a lot -- one particular writer was very good. Then I got bored and moved on.
Back in the day, we were into fashion, but we didn't think of it that way. The popularity of blue work shirts during the civil rights era was a fashion statement. We didn't wear them because they were inexpensive and durable attire for manual labor. We wore them for what they signified and so that anyone looking at us would know where we stood.
Then the blacks took over leadership of the civil rights movement and about the same time, the Vietnam War and the draft -- and the arrival of readily available recreational drugs -- encouraged a drop-out culture and fashion was a big part of that. Tie-dyed clothing, psychedelic colors, bohemian looks, etc. etc. and hairstyles that went with them. This was fashion on steroids although I'm sure the participants thought the opposite.)
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I Liked the Story Once I Got Into It, But I'm Basically a Reader for Plot
I enjoyed "Manhattan Morning" once I got into the story. I am, I fear, a reader for plot and I tend to read very fast to get on with the plot. Thus I am not good at evaluating more descriptive works. Your descriptions are very detailed and I am impressed if you actually think that way when walking down a street. I think I see more of a pastiche of sounds, colors, people, sky, building without the detail you see. I think of things about my life as I walk along a street but am not aware of the direct relationship to what I am seeing.
On the plot, I liked in your story the contrast between the seriousness of what had happened to the wife earlier in her life and the interchange at Grand Central. At first one might imagine that the exchange might lead else where, but it does not. I have never thought I was any good at looking at symbols or metaphors or more serious meaning behind stories so I am not sure exactly how I would say the Grand Central incident affected Dan. He was surprised at the woman's happiness with her hectic life. but was that because he expected most women, like his first wife and possible even his second, to find family life a little boring and combining career and family life very difficult. As for moral failings versus good things, I am not so sure I saw Marcy as having moral failings, but saw her more as being young when the affair happened and growing up. Or did you mean Dan - did you see the breakup of his first marriage as a moral failing or his work as not meaningful? I did not see either of those.
(My response: Several people have found the plot too slow or too thin, and too straight forward (no surprise twists). Readers who have liked MM best have been people who like NYC and they have been very complimentary about my descriptions and depictions of that one part of the city. After that, different people have talked about different things.
As for Dan, in a nutshell, he’s had a more difficult day than he anticipated when various sights and sounds triggered thoughts about both his current and former wives and he’s having trouble sorting it all out. When Sheryl brushes aside the much more real-life chaos of her life as essentially just details – she’s clear-eyed about her priorities and they are on track – Dan wonders about the manner in which he has been looking at things – his own priorities and perhaps his values. It’s akin to a “reset.”
While one could make a case that Marcy’s affair represented a moral failing, I tend to agree with you. I was really thinking about Saddleford (the minister) in that context. While Marcy can brush off her affair as in tune with natural law, and before she was old enough to know better, adultery is a clearly immoral by Saddleford’s own standards (not someone else’s). But he is an attractive, highly intelligent, engaging person who has done good things for the community to which he has been posted in difficult times and, in effect, saved Alfred’s church for Gloria – her top priority with respect to her past life. I don’t come down on whether his behavior a) doesn’t matter or b) should be condemned, but this is a recurrent issue in society. Harold Bloom dismisses the importance of TS Eliot’s poetry because of Eliot’s anti-Semitism while others dismiss Eliot’s anti-Semitism as being non-virulent and not atypical of his day. Well, OK, Bloom’s Jewish. One can find example after example of this sort of thing and, of course, different people have different points of view. It’s just a topic worthy of consideration.
I don’t think Dan, in this story, has moral failings – more like the reverse.
On the plot, I liked in your story the contrast between the seriousness of what had happened to the wife earlier in her life and the interchange at Grand Central. At first one might imagine that the exchange might lead else where, but it does not. I have never thought I was any good at looking at symbols or metaphors or more serious meaning behind stories so I am not sure exactly how I would say the Grand Central incident affected Dan. He was surprised at the woman's happiness with her hectic life. but was that because he expected most women, like his first wife and possible even his second, to find family life a little boring and combining career and family life very difficult. As for moral failings versus good things, I am not so sure I saw Marcy as having moral failings, but saw her more as being young when the affair happened and growing up. Or did you mean Dan - did you see the breakup of his first marriage as a moral failing or his work as not meaningful? I did not see either of those.
by BH, woman and long-time resident of Brooklyn and Manhattan
(My response: Several people have found the plot too slow or too thin, and too straight forward (no surprise twists). Readers who have liked MM best have been people who like NYC and they have been very complimentary about my descriptions and depictions of that one part of the city. After that, different people have talked about different things.
As for Dan, in a nutshell, he’s had a more difficult day than he anticipated when various sights and sounds triggered thoughts about both his current and former wives and he’s having trouble sorting it all out. When Sheryl brushes aside the much more real-life chaos of her life as essentially just details – she’s clear-eyed about her priorities and they are on track – Dan wonders about the manner in which he has been looking at things – his own priorities and perhaps his values. It’s akin to a “reset.”
While one could make a case that Marcy’s affair represented a moral failing, I tend to agree with you. I was really thinking about Saddleford (the minister) in that context. While Marcy can brush off her affair as in tune with natural law, and before she was old enough to know better, adultery is a clearly immoral by Saddleford’s own standards (not someone else’s). But he is an attractive, highly intelligent, engaging person who has done good things for the community to which he has been posted in difficult times and, in effect, saved Alfred’s church for Gloria – her top priority with respect to her past life. I don’t come down on whether his behavior a) doesn’t matter or b) should be condemned, but this is a recurrent issue in society. Harold Bloom dismisses the importance of TS Eliot’s poetry because of Eliot’s anti-Semitism while others dismiss Eliot’s anti-Semitism as being non-virulent and not atypical of his day. Well, OK, Bloom’s Jewish. One can find example after example of this sort of thing and, of course, different people have different points of view. It’s just a topic worthy of consideration.
I don’t think Dan, in this story, has moral failings – more like the reverse.
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The story is a wonderful achievement and a treasure to remember you by. It's a neat little package, including the diagonal line with the title, and just right as a traveling companion.
I remain bewitched by the unpredictable Marcy, bemused by Gloria and befuddled by Dan, the snapshot-like observer swirling in introspection who will seemingly never really connect with any living thing -- until the wonderfully graceful and provocative finale.
Here are my notes I have in the little pad in my shirt pocket about the story:
1. If you haven't been to Manhattan you should read this short story.
2. If you've been to Manhattan you should read this story as a reminder of what you saw and what it's like.
3. If you live in Manhattan or visit it often you should read this to remind you to look around more closely and think about what you might be missing.
by BC, a community newspaper publisher in the Mid West
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The Descriptions of Store Displays and Fashion Were Too Much For Me
by SK, a woman and a teacher
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The Interior Monologue is Convincing and Engaging
I really enjoyed the chapter "A Particular Girl in the Frieze of Life" and much very admire your pulling this off. The chapter just worked for me, that is, I found the interior monologue, even if delivered by a third person narrator, completely convincing. I have put in my time wandering around New York myself over the years and Dan's thoughts as he did so seemed real and, well, human and male to me. I liked your short sentences, alternated occasionally with longer and more complex ones. I also liked how you deftly wove the narrative about his family, wives and in-laws and around his observations of things, buildings, clothes on display in stores and the women he observed.
My sense is that after this chapter, I am going to learn something rather startling about Dan - I think you have signaled that, but I haven't read any further and don't know what it is, or even if I am right. Another touch I like is that the chapter opens with Dan stepping out of the close confines of an elevator into the bustle of a hotel lobby (albeit one whose bustle arises partly from its smallness) and the chapter closes with Dan stepping from the hustle/bustle of midtown Manhattan into the quieter atmosphere of the interior of St. Patrick's. And what did Dan "need to know"? I look forward to finding out.
I did finish MM very shortly after writing to you, and very much enjoyed it. You have a relaxed and appealing way of conveying Dan's interior monologue . which I find convincing and engaging. The subplot about the minister and Marcy and Gloria and Dan's ambivalent reaction to the episode was entertaining, believable and deftly described.
I guess my most positive reaction is to your writing style and ability to convey convincing inner monologue, as I've already said. If I have any questions, for lack of a better term, they would concern the problem of plot and story development. When I got to Sheryl's novella-ending observation about her life, it seemed human and sensible, but I think I had been sort of expecting that somewhat more dramatic stuff was going to hit the fan, at some point. I know that at the end of the first chapter, I thought that certain mysteries and plot twists had been foreshadowed, but that was not the case, as it turned out.
Anyway, I enjoyed it and would be happy to read more.
by WMcC, a lawyer living in New England
(My response: Thanks very much for passing on those thoughts. I greatly appreciate you taking the time to do so, as well as taking the time to read the book.
The plot is, indeed, rather thin and several friends, who have been commendably candid, have also made note of that. Those who have been most enthusiastic about the book have liked it because of the manner in which it depicts NYC, as opposed to for the story. Readers who don’t care about NYC, or don’t much like it, have been less enthusiastic. In general, I would say that in picking up a book, most readers are looking for a good, page-turning yarn and I have to admit that MM doesn’t really deliver in that respect. It’s been instructive.
I’m pleased you liked the subplot because I greatly enjoyed writing about Gloria. She was one of those characters that take on a life of their own and in the end, I had to rein her in so that she didn’t steal the show. The minister, Saddleford, was mainly a vehicle for me to touch on a number of topics that have been of interest to me during my life for one reason or another – Partition, racial problems, deindustrialization, changing demographics, other urban issues and, of course, the question of what do we think about someone who does good things in their public life, but has moral failings in his or her private life – particularly if the person in question is likeable and engaging.
You’re right about Dan’s ambivalence. He doesn’t think the incident should bother him, but for some reason it does and he’s trying to resolve it in a way that will put it to rest. And back in NYC, he also can’t help but be brought back to his former marriage, which, because he doesn’t know why Helen asked for a divorce, is unresolved to some degree as well. Then he runs into Sheryl, whose life seems far more chaotic than his in real terms, only to discover that she’s clear-eyed about her priorities and as a result, the rest is just details. It’s a refreshing point of view for Dan, but far from a dramatic plot twist – too far from one in all probability.
I originally wrote MM as a partial sequel to a story called “Carolina Beach,” which has never come together in a satisfactory fashion. But one portion of it – the story of a woman who has had an abortion – can stand alone. I’m hoping to publish it as a novella about the same length as MM and have recently sent a draft to couple of female friends to comment on. I am continually surprised by what people have to say, so it’s hard to predict what might come of it.)
Delightful on Many Levels
Congratulations! I just finished your novella, delightful on so many levels.
I could clearly hear your voice; being glad the woman with the T-shirt that read, "Hugs, not Drugs" wasn't freely dispensing the former; and your rightful resentment of bottled water and what happened to Penn Station.It made me laugh in several places, for example: Alfred who detested the perfectly straight line, refusing to have anything to do with a building devoid of ornamentation.
I quite liked Dan, and recognized myself in several passages. I, too, love eavesdropping at pedestrian red lights in NYC and watching people in transit and imagining where they're headed and what they've left behind. Mornings I will start off on a brisk walk...and not allow myself to stop; so if there is a red light, I just turn the corner or go another direction. I don't stop until I've been walking an hour. This means I often end up in neighborhoods I've never been...our last visit found me deep into Battery Park where I sat on an Esplanade bench transfixed by all the young women jogging with babies strapped into these sleek, aerodynamic, 3-wheel strollers that likely cost at least $1,000. And of course that started me ruminating on my sometimes less than stellar child rearing strategies and what I might do differently doing it all over again. Dan, clearly has some rumination issues too!
In addition to John Dos Passos, the book reminded me of John Updike. Not that Dan was anywhere nearly as tortured as Rabbit Angstrom. It was your use of rich detail to perfectly set the reader in the scene.
by CR, a nurse practitioner and a dedicated reader
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Well Crafted
by JR, a journalist and author of non-fiction and creative non-fiction
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I Found the Ending Very Touching
Thank you again for mailing the book, which I've now enjoyed reading.
First, I found myself surprised at all the fashion details. Among other things, my father and grandfather sold fabric to small local clothing manufacturers and fabric stores in the days when people still made a lot of their own clothing in Seattle, So I grew up noticing fashions and styles and fabrics, but wondered what led you to notice details like that?
I'm afraid my own mind is so cluttered with stray thoughts and associations that I found it a bit hard to read and keep track of what meanderings were mine and what were Dan's. In modern art, I often see that someone has managed to capture some of the amazement of the constantly changing abstract patterns that linger on one's retina, just after turning out the light at night, with eyes closed before falling asleep. I've made a drawing or two, but still haven't managed to do a painting that does the experience justice.
Your novel seemed to gather more focus and energy as it progressed, and I found the ending very touching. I don't know if it's what you intended, but the young women's words awakened in me an appreciation for the ordinary life of raising children and loving and caring for and appreciating them and one's partner. That seemed a comforting contrast to the tension of constantly changing fashions and the rush of commuting and the requirements of Dan's work.
Reading post-modern works has made me realize that what I admire most about writers is that they manage to sort out the right words to put on the page to communicate their ideas, characters, etc.. Perhaps the reason reading is often such a welcome escape from daily life is not escapist plots, but that the writer has achieved the miracle of organizing and developing her or his thoughts so coherently. For some reason, that seems quite comforting. So I guess that, plus my appreciation of domesticity, makes me one of your most incredibly old-fashioned and un-hip readers. But I'll look forward reading your next work, even though the topic sounds daunting.
Perhaps you'll write to say you intended an entirely different message, but I'm so glad that you were kind enough to let Dan have a good encounter with an engaging young woman (I'm sure there's a counterpart in Greek mythology) who invited him to stop chewing over the past and contemplate the potential wonderfulness of the next stage of his life. May we all be so fortunate.
(My response: First, thanks VERY much for taking the time to read MM and also for sending me your thoughts about it. I am profoundly appreciative.
To go from back to front, the ending has been very well received to the point where a couple of people said it essentially saved the book for them. NS deserves a lot of credit there. She read the final draft and suggested I reword and rearrange some of the material at the end, and when I followed her advice, the result was a striking improvement. So one definitely gets by with a little help from one’s friends.
Yes, my intent with respect to the ending was just as you put it. As a result of his conversation with Sheryl, Dan experiences what might be viewed as a “reset” that calls into question the significance of his earlier concerns and preoccupations, and perhaps his priorities as well. He’s been going around in circles on certain matters and what Sheryl had to say is going to help him move forward – more so than yet another trip around the same set of bushes. He’s also mindful that Marcy is getting very close to wanting to have a child and life is going to change in ways he hasn’t really thought about. He’s initially taken aback by what Sheryl seems to be going through, but her final comment helps him understand that when one’s priorities are clear, many of life’s trials and tribulations are just details. She grapples without total success (no credit card and no money) with a certain degree of chaos in her life, but is fundamentally unperturbed. She doesn’t blame the childcare person and she doesn’t blame her husband for forgetting to make the lunches. She feels fortunate to have them both. Dan notices a sense of serenity about her as she departs that superficially, at least, seems at odds with her circumstances. He’s impressed.
Your experience with stray thoughts is, in fact, what a lot of the book is about – the nature of what I termed in the introduction associative thinking. Because of the rich, dense Manhattan environment, Dan encounters a rush of stimulants and his thoughts go off in different directions. Some pass quickly; others – such as the contemplation of a particular dress leading to the recall of Edvard Munch’s “Frieze of Life,” which then leads to remembering a certain aspect of life with his former wife, Helen, last a lot longer. Why write about this? Well, it is a bigger part of all of our lives than we sometimes think, or want to admit. We write it off as daydreaming or brush it aside as being distracted. “I’ve got to get focused.” But it is actually a fundamental aspect of the human condition and thus, one might argue, a legitimate topic for fiction (if not one that will sell many, or any, books!)
My interest in fashion: I’ve always liked women’s clothes – the styles, the colors, the fabrics and once tried to make dresses for my sister’s paper dolls until my parents frowned on that activity. I got the message. Then, after many years, I lived just off The King’s Road in London in ’69-’70 during the “Swinging London” period and experienced what amounted to a walking fashion show every weekend. Next, I knew slightly the best known Japanese international fashion designer (she had some shows at the Tokyo Foreign Correspondents Club) and one of my girlfriends in Japan was a part-time model. Back in London and again living just off The Kings Road, it was the age of punk attire. My first wife was into clothes more than I initially anticipated and, never satisfied with the way she looked, tried a lot of different styles. And when one goes to Manhattan, fashion is always in the news, and on the streets. It is a huge industry employing a great number of people.
Dan’s aware of people’s attire because of the interests of his former wife and because he is in marketing and advertising. As a result, he tends to notice what people are wearing, and to look at window displays. He’s curious about what sort of people are attracted to certain stores, to certain brands, to certain looks. In addition, aesthetics in general are of interest to him, thanks in part to courses he took in college, and not just in terms of how people look. The idea that aesthetics might be an important aspect of utopia fascinates him at the same time he questions the practicality of such a notion. And, then there is the law of unintended consequences. Alfred’s abhorrence of the perfectly straight line – a variation of Mondrian’s rejection of the diagonal – serves to facilitate Marcy’s affair with the minister and what she eventually comes to see as an unfortunate tear in the social fabric even if in accordance with the laws of nature.
There are, of course, a number of other things I could say – it has been fascinating and rewarding to hear what various people liked or didn’t like and why – but I think the above responds to what you brought up, and once again, you have my heart-felt thanks.)
Thank you again for mailing the book, which I've now enjoyed reading.
First, I found myself surprised at all the fashion details. Among other things, my father and grandfather sold fabric to small local clothing manufacturers and fabric stores in the days when people still made a lot of their own clothing in Seattle, So I grew up noticing fashions and styles and fabrics, but wondered what led you to notice details like that?
I'm afraid my own mind is so cluttered with stray thoughts and associations that I found it a bit hard to read and keep track of what meanderings were mine and what were Dan's. In modern art, I often see that someone has managed to capture some of the amazement of the constantly changing abstract patterns that linger on one's retina, just after turning out the light at night, with eyes closed before falling asleep. I've made a drawing or two, but still haven't managed to do a painting that does the experience justice.
Your novel seemed to gather more focus and energy as it progressed, and I found the ending very touching. I don't know if it's what you intended, but the young women's words awakened in me an appreciation for the ordinary life of raising children and loving and caring for and appreciating them and one's partner. That seemed a comforting contrast to the tension of constantly changing fashions and the rush of commuting and the requirements of Dan's work.
Reading post-modern works has made me realize that what I admire most about writers is that they manage to sort out the right words to put on the page to communicate their ideas, characters, etc.. Perhaps the reason reading is often such a welcome escape from daily life is not escapist plots, but that the writer has achieved the miracle of organizing and developing her or his thoughts so coherently. For some reason, that seems quite comforting. So I guess that, plus my appreciation of domesticity, makes me one of your most incredibly old-fashioned and un-hip readers. But I'll look forward reading your next work, even though the topic sounds daunting.
Perhaps you'll write to say you intended an entirely different message, but I'm so glad that you were kind enough to let Dan have a good encounter with an engaging young woman (I'm sure there's a counterpart in Greek mythology) who invited him to stop chewing over the past and contemplate the potential wonderfulness of the next stage of his life. May we all be so fortunate.
by MM, a professional woman who values family life
(My response: First, thanks VERY much for taking the time to read MM and also for sending me your thoughts about it. I am profoundly appreciative.
To go from back to front, the ending has been very well received to the point where a couple of people said it essentially saved the book for them. NS deserves a lot of credit there. She read the final draft and suggested I reword and rearrange some of the material at the end, and when I followed her advice, the result was a striking improvement. So one definitely gets by with a little help from one’s friends.
Yes, my intent with respect to the ending was just as you put it. As a result of his conversation with Sheryl, Dan experiences what might be viewed as a “reset” that calls into question the significance of his earlier concerns and preoccupations, and perhaps his priorities as well. He’s been going around in circles on certain matters and what Sheryl had to say is going to help him move forward – more so than yet another trip around the same set of bushes. He’s also mindful that Marcy is getting very close to wanting to have a child and life is going to change in ways he hasn’t really thought about. He’s initially taken aback by what Sheryl seems to be going through, but her final comment helps him understand that when one’s priorities are clear, many of life’s trials and tribulations are just details. She grapples without total success (no credit card and no money) with a certain degree of chaos in her life, but is fundamentally unperturbed. She doesn’t blame the childcare person and she doesn’t blame her husband for forgetting to make the lunches. She feels fortunate to have them both. Dan notices a sense of serenity about her as she departs that superficially, at least, seems at odds with her circumstances. He’s impressed.
Your experience with stray thoughts is, in fact, what a lot of the book is about – the nature of what I termed in the introduction associative thinking. Because of the rich, dense Manhattan environment, Dan encounters a rush of stimulants and his thoughts go off in different directions. Some pass quickly; others – such as the contemplation of a particular dress leading to the recall of Edvard Munch’s “Frieze of Life,” which then leads to remembering a certain aspect of life with his former wife, Helen, last a lot longer. Why write about this? Well, it is a bigger part of all of our lives than we sometimes think, or want to admit. We write it off as daydreaming or brush it aside as being distracted. “I’ve got to get focused.” But it is actually a fundamental aspect of the human condition and thus, one might argue, a legitimate topic for fiction (if not one that will sell many, or any, books!)
My interest in fashion: I’ve always liked women’s clothes – the styles, the colors, the fabrics and once tried to make dresses for my sister’s paper dolls until my parents frowned on that activity. I got the message. Then, after many years, I lived just off The King’s Road in London in ’69-’70 during the “Swinging London” period and experienced what amounted to a walking fashion show every weekend. Next, I knew slightly the best known Japanese international fashion designer (she had some shows at the Tokyo Foreign Correspondents Club) and one of my girlfriends in Japan was a part-time model. Back in London and again living just off The Kings Road, it was the age of punk attire. My first wife was into clothes more than I initially anticipated and, never satisfied with the way she looked, tried a lot of different styles. And when one goes to Manhattan, fashion is always in the news, and on the streets. It is a huge industry employing a great number of people.
Dan’s aware of people’s attire because of the interests of his former wife and because he is in marketing and advertising. As a result, he tends to notice what people are wearing, and to look at window displays. He’s curious about what sort of people are attracted to certain stores, to certain brands, to certain looks. In addition, aesthetics in general are of interest to him, thanks in part to courses he took in college, and not just in terms of how people look. The idea that aesthetics might be an important aspect of utopia fascinates him at the same time he questions the practicality of such a notion. And, then there is the law of unintended consequences. Alfred’s abhorrence of the perfectly straight line – a variation of Mondrian’s rejection of the diagonal – serves to facilitate Marcy’s affair with the minister and what she eventually comes to see as an unfortunate tear in the social fabric even if in accordance with the laws of nature.
There are, of course, a number of other things I could say – it has been fascinating and rewarding to hear what various people liked or didn’t like and why – but I think the above responds to what you brought up, and once again, you have my heart-felt thanks.)
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I Truly Enjoyed It
This is just a brief note to let you know that I have finished reading Manhattan Morning. I truly enjoyed it, and I hadn't really thought about the Dos Passos comparison until I read your author’s notes. That’s a definite influence! I wonder if we were reading Dos Passos at about the same time. I loved his books, and pretty much read them all, I think, including "Manhattan Transfer," and definitely during my Stanford years. Before you made me think about Dos Passos, though, I was seeing a lot of James Joyce in your narration. Will you cop to that?
I really appreciated that you provided a photographic walking tour to accompany the text. As I read the book, I was trying to figure out whether or not you essentially took notes as you walked the streets of Manhattan. I more or less assumed that this is, in fact, exactly what you did. I don't know Manhattan nearly as well as you do, I am sure, but I could picture the walk pretty clearly. And then, at the end, it was great to get that photographic confirmation.
I never knew your first wife, of course, though I think we did meet perhaps once in Washington, DC. I notice that she does not make the biography, but I couldn't help but speculate, as I read along about Helen, that there were some shards of past remembrances coming up as you turned over the earth of your past life in this ambulatory reflection.
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by GP, an environmental lawyer and life-long friend
My response: Thanks very much for reading the story and for taking the walking tour. I'm very pleased that you genuinely enjoyed it. Yes, you are right about Joyce, but in a less direct manner than Dos Passos. This story was written and revised over a period of several years when I was mainly grappling with something called "Carolina Beach" -- a related story that precedes it and remains unfinished. During that period, I took a course on "Ulysses." during which there was much discussion of Modernism.
My response: Thanks very much for reading the story and for taking the walking tour. I'm very pleased that you genuinely enjoyed it. Yes, you are right about Joyce, but in a less direct manner than Dos Passos. This story was written and revised over a period of several years when I was mainly grappling with something called "Carolina Beach" -- a related story that precedes it and remains unfinished. During that period, I took a course on "Ulysses." during which there was much discussion of Modernism.
In a very superficial way, one can say that MM is like "Ulysses" first and foremost in its heavy reliance on inner monologue as the main character wanders around town. Second, just as Ulysses was set in actual locations all of which were clearly identifiable, so is MM. Third, like "Ulysses," there are external references. Fourth, while the actions of the main characters in both U and MM are just the stuff of very ordinary life, events of a more troubling nature lie in the background in both cases. Bloom is haunted by the death of his son and both his quest to establish a relationship with Stephen Dedalus and Molly's impending infidelity are closely related to that. Dan is bothered by something his wife did before their marriage even though she has been honest, to a fault, about it.. Finally, both stories, on their face, take place in a single day. That was novel with respect to Joyce, and especially for a book the length of U. Not at all anymore, especially for something the length of a novella.
Interestingly, Virginia Woolf, who at least initially did not like Joyce and "Ulysses," is thought to have nonetheless been influenced by him. "Mrs. Dalloway," was subsequently famously set in one day, and that was a very important endorsement of the style. In the end, however, whereas I was not intentionally trying to make MM "Joycean" in nature, I was was deliberately trying to employ a technique I identified with Dos Passos to structure the piece. Helen is not based on my former wife, who was a journalist when I first met her and who then became a singer. While she was interested in clothes, she had no connection to the fashion industry and I didn't have her in the back of my mind during the process of building Helen's character. Helen, like Marcy and Gloria, are made-up entities (Dan, too) and not thinly or not so thinly disguised versions of actual people I have known. So I definitely part company with Joyce in that respect.
Sheryl is based on an actual person -- but only in the context of one brief conversation. My wife read the story (and the unfinished Carolina Beach) strongly believing that she would be able to clearly identify both me and other people in them and then admitted that she couldn't. The settings are real, but the characters are not -- at least not in the sense that readers or people themselves would be able to identify them. I had certain ideas or topics I wanted to horse over and the characters were created as people who would plausibly be involved with such things. The descriptive material was collected on more than one walk through the area and often by means of quickly dictating observations into a little voice recorder. My wife and I stayed at The Warwick one night when she was working for the National Trust in DC (she got a significant discount as a result of that) and as I mentioned, I had an experience very similar to that of the ending of the story on a different occasion. Some of the photos were taken on a walk in connection with starting to write the story and others were taken later. We typically spend about 6 weeks a year in NYC, generally in the spring and fall, at our part-time arrangement there and do a lot of walking. Hope that answers your questions and once again, MANY thanks for taking a look at this.)
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I Enjoyed Your Thoughtful Walking Tour of Manhattan
"I enjoyed your thoughtful walking tour of Manhattan, along streets I often traversed, thinking thoughts not unlike those of your hero."
By BM, a fromer journalist and a writer
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I Liked It Ver Much and Found It Easy to Read
By GG, a writer and community activist who lives in Denver
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I Read Manhattan Morning and it Did Revive My Love of the City
I read Manhattan Morning and it did revive my love of the city. But I was surprised by your focus on women’s clothing styles – I would have never guessed. Where does that come from?
And how much of it is autobiographical? And what was the impulse to write a novella?
By BD, a college professor and political activist
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Dan's Mind and Memory are Complicated and Intriguing
By M, a college-educated woman then working at Whole Foods
My response: Thank you very much for taking the time to read “MM” and for your very kind comments. I appreciate them.
Please pass the book on to anyone else who might be interested in it, or leave it behind in a coffee shop or one of those free library shelves one sees around from time to time. This activity constitutes my Twitter-free distribution campaign.
About 50 people have been kind enough to read the book and about half have offered comments, commendably candid in some instances.
In general, women have liked it slightly more than men. People who like or are familiar with Manhattan have liked it more than people who aren’t or don’t. Almost everyone has liked the ending, which is a thinly fictionalized version of something that actually happened to me. On the down side, some readers have complained the plot is too thin (not enough twists and turns) and some have said they didn’t much care for Dan because he was too passive. Women as much as men, I have discovered, don’t like reading about characters they perceive to be “beta males” and some said Dan was only “saved” in their view by the ending where he became more active. (A couple of readers, on the other hand, have said they understood Dan was just having a day off.)
Readers have had widely differing views of Gloria. Some have found her highly amusing (I loved writing about her and had to rein her in because at one point, she was threatening to steal the show) while others have found her disconcerting, or worse (!).
As to what “MM” is about, aside from what is mentioned in introduction, it is about values and about the relationship of art to society.
While Dan is in love with Marcy and feels lucky she was attracted to him, one past incident In particular leaves him uneasy about her values and what they might mean for the future. He’d love to be able to put this whole thing behind him because, in part, it has left him wondering about his own values. Then he gets a “reset” at the end when Sheryl displays great comfort in expressing her clear, straight-forward values. The rest – all the daily ups and downs of her modern (feminist?) life (trying to balance a professional career with a family) – is just details.
Then there are Gloria’s values: preserving her dead husband’s legacy is first and foremost, plus looking after her daughter. All else is secondary. As long as she’s doing well on those two fronts, she can have fun.
The book, in the character of Saddleford, also brings up the question: what do we think of a person who does good things for society or makes important intellectual contributions, but is morally flawed (by his own standards)? MLK is referenced here, but there is a very long list one could mention. Saddleford is also, in effect, a vehicle for briefly discussing how certain communities have changed in recent decades as a result of de-industrialization and demographic shifts, and as a means of referencing Partition, one of the most important developments in the post-war world in part because it foreshadowed all the religion-based conflicts we are now experiencing.
On the topic of art and society, Dan thinks about the de Stijl school and its notion that aesthetics can be a path to or an essential element of utopia; of Childe Hassam and art capturing and preserving urban (and natural) décor; of Munch and the use of art as a means of expressing emotions and psychological states, and finally of Helleu and art first as glorifying commerce and public spaces and then as an intimate expression of love of family. It’s not just something to relieve the tedium of blank walls.
All of the above makes this book highly uncommercial, which is why I decided to amuse myself in retirement by self-publishing it.
As for Dan and Marcy, there may be more to come later. In the meantime, I’m writing about Dan’s friend, Hartley (briefly mentioned in MM) who meets an older woman on a beach in North Carolina. She tells him the story of her life after a botched abortion at age 17. I hope to finish it sometime this year.
While Dan is in love with Marcy and feels lucky she was attracted to him, one past incident In particular leaves him uneasy about her values and what they might mean for the future. He’d love to be able to put this whole thing behind him because, in part, it has left him wondering about his own values. Then he gets a “reset” at the end when Sheryl displays great comfort in expressing her clear, straight-forward values. The rest – all the daily ups and downs of her modern (feminist?) life (trying to balance a professional career with a family) – is just details.
Then there are Gloria’s values: preserving her dead husband’s legacy is first and foremost, plus looking after her daughter. All else is secondary. As long as she’s doing well on those two fronts, she can have fun.
The book, in the character of Saddleford, also brings up the question: what do we think of a person who does good things for society or makes important intellectual contributions, but is morally flawed (by his own standards)? MLK is referenced here, but there is a very long list one could mention. Saddleford is also, in effect, a vehicle for briefly discussing how certain communities have changed in recent decades as a result of de-industrialization and demographic shifts, and as a means of referencing Partition, one of the most important developments in the post-war world in part because it foreshadowed all the religion-based conflicts we are now experiencing.
On the topic of art and society, Dan thinks about the de Stijl school and its notion that aesthetics can be a path to or an essential element of utopia; of Childe Hassam and art capturing and preserving urban (and natural) décor; of Munch and the use of art as a means of expressing emotions and psychological states, and finally of Helleu and art first as glorifying commerce and public spaces and then as an intimate expression of love of family. It’s not just something to relieve the tedium of blank walls.
All of the above makes this book highly uncommercial, which is why I decided to amuse myself in retirement by self-publishing it.
As for Dan and Marcy, there may be more to come later. In the meantime, I’m writing about Dan’s friend, Hartley (briefly mentioned in MM) who meets an older woman on a beach in North Carolina. She tells him the story of her life after a botched abortion at age 17. I hope to finish it sometime this year.
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