Never Can Say Goodbye: Writers on Their Unshakable Love for New York

I started my blog five years ago (!), and I sometimes look back on my reviews, thankful that I can relive both the book and the time period in which I read it. There are plenty of reviews that embarrass me-- the writing is clunky, I come across as too try-hard, my jokes don’t land, etc. Whatever. I’m just trying to do the damn thing without taking the plunge into an overly self-critical headspace, ya know?

One post that gives me pride rather than embarrassment is my review of Goodbye to All That: Writers on Loving and Leaving New York. I read the book and wrote the review when I was moving from NYC after 4.5 years. Many of the reasons why I wanted to leave matched with sentiments expressed by writers in the collection. So, it felt fitting that on my first real trip back to visit the city precisely a year after my departure, I read Never Can Say Goodbye: Writers on Their Unshakable Love for New York*.

After publishing Goodbye to All That in 2013, Sari Botton got complaints from whiny NYC die-hards. Her response: publish a collection of stories by writers who love New York and want to stay. The result: a fairly redundant set of less interesting stories. Most of the writing in Never Can Say Goodbye is still heavily anti-NYC. So much for “unshakable love”. It also comes across as formulaic: [insert bit about how NYC is so expensive], [insert bit about how it’s hard to find love in NYC], [insert bit about how I have these beautiful, exciting, specifically New York nights that make me stay despite the aforementioned expenses and lack of connection], [insert bit about how, through some lucky break, I finally stumble upon reasonable rent and a stable relationship]. All in all, it is boring, which is a pitiful depiction of a very non-boring city.

To my surprise, the only piece I really love in the collection is Elizabeth Gilbert’s. I’ve never read Eat, Pray, Love, but the judgmental streak in me assumes it is very cheesy. Turns out, she has some serious edge. Never Can Say Goodbye details her time working as a bartender for the Coyote Ugly Saloon-- as in, the one that inspired the movie. Her piece is unique and well-written amidst the cookie-cutter blandness. Other contributors that slightly pique my interest include Whoopi Goldberg and Nick Flynn, whose memoir, Another Bullshit Night in Suck City, still haunts me on a regular basis (in a good way).

Overall, I’m disappointed in Never Can Say Goodbye, especially given how much I love Goodbye to All That. It comes across as forced, and I think the collection should have been more carefully curated considering the fact that a few of the writers did, in fact, love and leave New York. New York will always feel a little bit like home to me and I’m happy that I too can love and leave. Never Can Say Goodbye: Writers on Their Unshakable Love for New York receives 2 out of 5 camel humps.

*Botton, Sarah. Never Can Say Goodbye: Writers on Their Unshakable Love for New York. New York: Gallery Books, 2014. Print.

Norwegian Wood

It’s official: Murakami’s novels don’t do it for me. Goodbye dude, we’re done. I can’t take it anymore. I read his memoir, What I Talk About When I Talk About Running, and it got me fired up to be healthy, balanced, creative, and awesome. Then, I read his Colorless Tsukuru Tazaki and His Years of Pilgrimage and thought he had booby-trapped me into a colossal waste of time. Then, I read his short story collection, Men Without Women, and he sucked me back in his favor with a little tease--some stories were bad, but some stories were excellent. Then, I read one of his fan-favorites, Norwegian Wood*, and now I realize we should part ways.

Norwegian Wood is about death and sex. That's it! I’m no lit-prude, but the sex scenes were gratuitous. Let’s eat dinner -- okay, insert sex scene....let’s go to school -- okay, insert sex scene...let’s have an intense talk about suicide -- okay, insert sex scene. It took me so long to finish (wink, wink) the book because I knew it would just continue to recycle through the same old same old.

The dialogue does not feel natural to me and his similies continue to be hit or miss. He either completely and totally nails a feeling or he fumbles it entirely, leaving you more confused. In every Murakami fiction I've reviewed, I’ve called out a terrible simile. In Murakami fashion, I’ll continue the tradition here. One character says, “I’m just kinda tired. Like a monkey in the rain” (Murakami, 58). I like monkeys as much as the rest of you, but I don’t think people talk like this in casual conversation. I also don’t think that comparison is useful. It does have some nice imagery, but I’d be much more accepting if he was remotely selective. Instead, he’s like YOU GET A SIMILIE...AND YOU GET A SIMILIE! It’s extra.

I’ve decided that Murakami shoots his shot a little too much. He’s written so many books, and because most of them are lengthy, I’m scared to trust another one now. He has name recognition going for him for a reason. He can do some things very well. For example, he rocks at giving plainness a little vibration; as in, I enjoy the subtle life he injects into descriptions of ordinary feelings and actions. He’s skilled at making simplicity beautiful. Unfortunately, he throws a lot of trash in there with the beauty. Norwegian Wood* receives 2 out of 5 camel humps -- don’t @ me.

*Murakami, Haruki. Norwegian Wood. Trans. Jay Rubin. New York: Vintage Books, 2000. Print.