A little gem of a book - more of an essay - awaits you.

It has the remarkable ability to conjure up the vibrant, thrusting, cosmopolitan New York of 1949 in wonderfully descriptive language.

The details are so vivid that you can almost smell the city streets and hear the hustle and bustle.

Surprisingly, some of the issues mentioned in the book feel remarkably contemporary.

It's as if the author had a prescient understanding of the challenges and opportunities that would still be relevant today.

For those of us who may never have the chance to visit the city in person, this book is the closest we may ever get.

It offers a very evocative little tour, taking us on a journey through time and space.

We can experience the energy and excitement of New York in 1949, and gain a deeper appreciation for the city's rich history and culture.

Whether you're a history buff, a lover of literature, or simply someone who enjoys a good story, this book is well worth reading.

It's a small but mighty work that will leave a lasting impression.

This essay, like the city itself, is sweaty and grinding and full of surprises. It serves as a time capsule of post-war optimism and nuclear anxiety, vividly capturing the city as it was evolving into what White so aptly calls “the capital of the world.”

I have a particularly special connection to this essay. My sense of membership with the city is rather complicated, and White appears to have as profound an understanding as anyone of the diverse tiers of New Yorkers that exist. I truly love the way he manages to capture the excitement that permeates the city. The feeling that everyone is on a distinct mission, among 8 million others who are also on their own missions, all intricately intertwined yet somehow insulated from these daily quests towards self-realization.

One excerpt that had an especially profound impact on me was: “I’ve been remembering what it felt like as a young man to live in the same town with giants...I burned with a low steady fever just because I was on the same island with [these giants]...the city is always full of young worshipful beginners—young actors, young aspiring poets, ballerinas, painters, reporters, singers—each depending on his own brand of tonic to stay alive, each with his own stable of giants.”

As I have relocated to the city with my own dreams, becoming an integral part of this great churning tradition, I have been overjoyed to follow the same meandering path as White and my own group of giants. Each of us is on his or her own mission, its endpoint unknown, unknowable, always just out of reach, yet alive and determined to persevere for another day.

Such a beautifully written essay about NYC! It was published in 1949, yet it still manages to evoke the same emotions and reveal the same truths about the city as it does today. In my opinion, this is a testament to the timeless allure and character of New York City. The author's words paint a vivid picture of the bustling streets, the diverse population, and the unique energy that permeates every corner of the city. It's as if the essay has captured a moment in time and preserved it for future generations to experience. I am truly grateful that my teacher gave this to me to read. It has not only deepened my appreciation for the written word but also for the city that never sleeps. I will definitely be keeping this essay as a cherished memento of my own journey through life in NYC.

3 "Observant and Lyrical Reflections on Stars!!


Fourth Most Fun Review Written in 2018 Award


For the past thirteen days, we wandered through the vibrant streets of NYC. This was my very first trip to the city that never sleeps, while my partner had been there three times before. I was completely immersed in the world of art, attending musicals, opera, visiting piano bars, and even checking out some obscure metal shows. We explored two magnificent botanical gardens and visited all the large art galleries and museums. Of course, I couldn't miss seeing Lady Liberty. I also loved exploring the Hasidic neighborhoods in Brooklyn, indulging in delicious Greek and Italian cuisine in Queens, and savoring tasty Asian and French food in Chelsea and Soho.


In our small rented apartment, we cooked breakfasts together, listened to the beautiful music of Bach, Coltrane, and Lana Del Rey. I watched way too much Shark Tank and Beachfront Bargain Hunt. I had the opportunity to chat with New Yorkers from all walks of life, of different genders, ethnicities, and sexual orientations. There was an upper East Side Jewish woman who tried to pick me up until my partner showed up with teas, a young black woman pursuing her masters in museum administration, and a Puerto Rican lawyer, just to name a few. They all shared their stories and their relationships with New York. They didn't ask me many questions, but through them and my long walks through all the boroughs (except Staten Island), I began to get a small understanding of what makes New York both great and highly flawed. Throughout each day, I vacillated between wanting to extend my stay and longing to hop on the next plane, grab my kitty, and escape back to our quiet country home on the lake.


I didn't read a single book on this trip, but I posted about it on Goodreads. Julie G, a lively GR friend, demanded that I read this lengthy essay by E.B. White, famous for Charlotte's Web and Trumpet of the Swan. He wrote this essay in 1949, describing New York of his youth in the 1920s and how it had changed when he went back for a commissioned visit in 1949. The essay is beautifully written, and much of it, especially regarding the inequalities, diversities, and the wonderful and rotten aspects of New York, really shines through. What I related to the most was the ambivalence the author felt, as this was something I struggled with a great deal myself. I was overstimulated most of the time and could feel not only excitement but also a lot of irritability, disdain, and distance. I told my partner that nowhere else had I felt like I was in a bubble that was both disconcerting and de-realizing, yet in a strange way, also soothing. New York made me both happy and sad, often at the same time.


Here is a bit of strange foreshadowing (remember, this was written in 1949): "The subtlest change in New York is something people don't speak much about but that is in everyone's mind. The city, for the first time in its long history, is destructible. A single flight of planes no bigger than a wedge of geese can quickly end this island fantasy, burn the towers, crumble the bridges, turn the underground passages into lethal chambers, cremate the millions." I really enjoyed my trip to the Big Apple, but I'm in no rush to go back.

Every time I peruse White's magnificent love letter to New York City, a profound sense of nostalgia for my own town inundates me.

And it is not uncommon that I awaken the following day with a sharpened sense of observational candor. As numerous individuals have remarked in recent years, his intense scrutiny of NYC's vulnerability can almost be regarded as a prophecy of September 11, 2001, despite being penned in 1949 when the thoughts regarding the conclusion of World War II and atomic bombs were still rife.

"The city, for the first time in its long history, is destructible. A single flight of planes no bigger than a wedge of geese can quickly end this island fantasy, burn the towers, crumble the bridges, turn the underground passages into lethal chambers, cremate the millions. The intimation of mortality is part of New York now; in the sounds of jets overhead, in the black headlines of the latest editions."

It is worthy of note that this edition, which was published in 1999, features an outstanding introduction by White's stepson, Roger Angell. Additionally, this essay is published in its entirety in "The Essays of E.B. White".

An incredibly detailed and vivid portrait and snapshot of a city. It is truly remarkable how such a captivating description can be crafted. Oh, how one wishes to be able to write with such skill and artistry. The words seem to dance off the page, painting a picture that is both enchanting and real. Each sentence is like a brushstroke, adding depth and dimension to the image of the city. It makes one long to explore the streets and alleys, to discover the hidden gems and secrets that lie within. This kind of writing has the power to transport the reader to another place and time, to make them feel as if they are actually there. It is a testament to the beauty and power of the written word.

There are roughly three New Yorks.

First, there is the New York of the native, the one who was born here and takes the city for granted, accepting its size and turbulence as natural and inevitable.

Second, there is the New York of the commuter, the city that is devoured by locusts each day and spat out each night.

Third, there is the New York of the outsider, the person who was born elsewhere and came to New York in search of something.

Of these three trembling cities, the greatest is the last, the city of final destination, the city that is a goal.

It is this excerpt that perhaps best sums up E.B. White's Here Is New York for me. Commissioned by Holiday, an upmarket travel magazine, it is an assertive, unapologetic, yet nostalgic portrait of post-WWII New York.

White's prose is a delight to read - crisp, clean, and evocative. It was only after reading the book that I realized E.B. White was the same White of Strunk and White's Elements of Style, the writing bible that accompanied me throughout college.

Trying to find words to describe White's prose seems a bit pointless, so I'll take the easy way out and reproduce another extract from the book:

"New York blends the gift of privacy with the excitement of participation; and better than most dense communities, it succeeds in insulating the individual (if he wants it, and almost everybody wants or needs it) against all the enormous, violent, and wonderful events that are taking place every minute...Although New York often imparts a feeling of great forlornness or forsakenness, it seldom seems dead or unresourceful; and you always feel that either by shifting your location ten blocks or by reducing your fortune by five dollars, you can experience rejuvenation. Many people who have no real independence of spirit depend on the city's tremendous variety and sources of excitement for spiritual sustenance and the maintenance of morale."

Those who know and love New York will enjoy reading this love letter to a city as it was more than half a century ago. Those who don't love the city can simply fall in love with White's prose.

White's themes regarding the tendency of any metropolis to amplify privacy present a captivating and dual-edged concept.

The more individuals one is surrounded by, the less likely one will be noticed engaging in any activity, even doing nothing and simply keeping to oneself. This gives rise to both tolerance, in the sense of "live and let live," and intolerance, as in "as long as you leave me alone," depending on the intensity of one's attachment to privacy.

He provides an example of a 20,000-person Lions' Convention that came to New York in the late 1940s. Most New Yorkers were scarcely aware that it was taking place, let alone saw or interacted with any of the vividly colored chapter representatives from across the country. The city has the ability to absorb 20,000 people without a ripple, a murmur, or a distinctive accent. The essence is that this kind of privacy, where 20,000 people are insignificant, implies that for the individual, one must most definitely be vigilant against the encroaching harm of loneliness.

What an amazing love letter to a city this is!

This essay has truly got me pining to go back to New York. I long to set up shop and live in those cramped quarters, endure those hellish humid summers and take the subways (oh NOT to drive!!).

And although this was written in 1949, when black people were still acceptably referred to as "Negros" and Prohibition was not so long ago, E.B. White still manages to capture the soul of New York that has remained constant.

Reading this book, even though it refers to now obsolete neighborhoods that have been gentrified for ages now, I can still feel the familiar spirit of walking the streets, sensing the pulse and poetry of the city, that amazing sense of endless possibility that only New York can provide in its unique way.

As much as it has been emphasized how quickly and utterly New York has changed and is always changing, it's truly incredible how much can really remain the same. Even post-9.11, which we thought would completely undo it all.

On that note, the following passage was intensely unsettling. It is strange to me that it wasn't written in October, 2001. Keep in mind this was 1949, and E.B. White died in 1985. He had remarkable foresight:

"The subtlest change in New York is something people don't speak much about but that is in everyone's mind. The city, for the first time in its long history, is destructible. A single flight of planes no bigger than a wedge of geese can quickly end this island fantasy, burn the towers, crumble the bridges, turn the underground passages into lethal chambers, cremate the millions. The intimation of mortality is part of New York now: in the sound of jets overhead, in the black headlines of the latest edition.

All dwellers in cities must live with the stubborn fact of annihilation; in New York the fact is somewhat more concentrated because of the concentration of the city itself, and because, of all targets, New York has a certain clear priority."

Woah.

This essay was beautiful, dated in a way that doesn't really matter. In fact, as E.B. White foresaw, it is a pleasure to update in one's own mind. It was written with love, and those who have known New York will mark what has changed and what things they too love that have remained the same. Oh, I want to go hoooooome.

Fantastic!

Living in NYC, I have a much better understanding of what he is referring to. He mentions a Bronx neighborhood where I currently reside (without naming it specifically), but only those who live there are aware that this is the particular neighborhood in question. I truly loved his comment regarding the bus drivers scolding you for asking an innocent question. It seems that things haven't altered significantly over the years. And I was really fond of when he talked about the train seats being green instead of straw yellow. I vividly remember the straw yellow seats. It's a wonderful and detailed look at the city.

This description gives a unique perspective on the daily life and characteristics of NYC. It makes me think about my own experiences in this vibrant and diverse city. The mention of the bus drivers and train seats brings back memories and adds a touch of authenticity to the narrative. Overall, it's a great piece that offers a small but interesting glimpse into the urban landscape of NYC.

This essay was an absolute delight, and I found myself longing for more.

As far as I can discern, White has truly penetrated to the core of essential New York. No matter what alterations occur on the surface, he has captured the essence.

It is fascinating to contemplate the status of NYC in the late 1940s and the evolution that he has already noted from his earlier sojourn in the city.

His words are also prescient. I was completely taken aback by the ending paragraphs.

I will most likely read this essay before each future trip to NYC, particularly in the summer. It will serve as a wonderful primer, transporting me back to the city's past and giving me a deeper understanding of its present.

White's writing is so evocative that it makes me feel as if I am right there in the heart of New York, experiencing all its charm and vitality.

I can't wait to see how the city has changed since his time and how his words will still resonate with me on future visits.

Maza mīlestības vēstule lielai pilsētai.

“A poem compresses much in a small space and adds music, thus heightening its meaning. The city is like poetry: it compresses all life, all races and breeds, into a small island and adds music and the accompaniment of internal engines. The island of Manhattan is without any doubt the greatest human concentrate on earth, the poem whose magic is comprehensible to millions of permanent residents but whose full meaning will always remain elusive.”

This beautiful description likens a city, especially Manhattan, to a poem. Just as a poem condenses a wealth of emotions, ideas, and images into a concise form while enhancing its impact with the rhythm and melody of language, a city like Manhattan gathers people from all walks of life, of all races and ethnicities, onto a relatively small piece of land. It is a place where the hustle and bustle of daily life, the sounds of traffic and industry, combine to create a unique symphony. The magic of this urban poem is palpable to the millions who call it home, yet its true essence and significance are complex and multifaceted, always just out of reach, waiting to be discovered and understood on a deeper level.