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tschmitty's review
4.0
E.B. White writes of a New York that is vaguely familiar and also one from the past. He also hauntingly writes of fears of planes hitting buildings and flames of destruction. A reflective work of a place I enjoy to visit.
elarsonwhittaker's review
5.0
just a really sweet love letter to the ever changing chaos of new york.
cjfiebert's review
5.0
Here is New York is truly a love letter to this great city. E.B. White wrote the essay for a magazine called Holiday which asked him to leave his home in Maine, come to New York for a visit and write about the experience. In this essay, White talks about a walk he takes around the city and the experience of being in Manhattan again. He reminisces about the New York City of his past, muses on the New York City of the future, and describes a perfect summer day in Manhattan.
As someone who has lived in & loved New York City, I found so many of his thoughts to be true even now, well over 60 years later. He describes New York as having the ability to "destroy an individual, or it can fulfill him, depending on a good deal of luck." I think this is still an extremely accurate assessment as reiterated by Frank Sinatra every time someone sings "If I can make it there, I'll make it anywhere. It's up to you, New York, New York." Some people might think that Frank is suggesting that it's up to you to make things happen in New York. But the truth is, that New York has its own way of deciding who is going to make it and who isn't. The people that New York decides to keep, those are the ones with the luck.
I loved the way that White described the first views of the city skyline while coming over the Hells Gate Bridge. The way he describes the city as having many small cities within it, each only a few blocks long. The way he describes himself as burning "with a low steady fever just because I was on the same island" with the giants of his field and the way he acknowledges that all people feel when first coming to New York. His descriptions of his travels through the city as he visits old haunts and explains the changes that have taken place are simply beautiful.
There was one part of this essay which made me gasp out loud on the subway, towards the very end of the book. White, while describing many of the changes that have come to the city, says
"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."
For obvious reasons, this can strike a reader as a more somber thought in the past nearly 13 years than it would have when he wrote this essay in the 1940s. It gave me a bit of a chill to think about how easily recognized and acceptable that idea was when he wrote those words and it made me glad to know that White had passed away long before he could learn how true they were.
Overall, I adored this essay and wished that I had read it at home so I could have underlined favorite passages for myself. I never do that to a book, but there was just something about this essay that I know I will re-read again and again looking for those lines and messages each time.
As someone who has lived in & loved New York City, I found so many of his thoughts to be true even now, well over 60 years later. He describes New York as having the ability to "destroy an individual, or it can fulfill him, depending on a good deal of luck." I think this is still an extremely accurate assessment as reiterated by Frank Sinatra every time someone sings "If I can make it there, I'll make it anywhere. It's up to you, New York, New York." Some people might think that Frank is suggesting that it's up to you to make things happen in New York. But the truth is, that New York has its own way of deciding who is going to make it and who isn't. The people that New York decides to keep, those are the ones with the luck.
I loved the way that White described the first views of the city skyline while coming over the Hells Gate Bridge. The way he describes the city as having many small cities within it, each only a few blocks long. The way he describes himself as burning "with a low steady fever just because I was on the same island" with the giants of his field and the way he acknowledges that all people feel when first coming to New York. His descriptions of his travels through the city as he visits old haunts and explains the changes that have taken place are simply beautiful.
There was one part of this essay which made me gasp out loud on the subway, towards the very end of the book. White, while describing many of the changes that have come to the city, says
"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."
For obvious reasons, this can strike a reader as a more somber thought in the past nearly 13 years than it would have when he wrote this essay in the 1940s. It gave me a bit of a chill to think about how easily recognized and acceptable that idea was when he wrote those words and it made me glad to know that White had passed away long before he could learn how true they were.
Overall, I adored this essay and wished that I had read it at home so I could have underlined favorite passages for myself. I never do that to a book, but there was just something about this essay that I know I will re-read again and again looking for those lines and messages each time.
jwsg's review
4.0
"There are roughly three New Yorks. There is, first, the New York of the man or woman who was born here, who takes the city for granted and accepts its size and its 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 Tork of the person who was born somewhere else and came to New York in quest 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, perhaps, that best sums up EB White's Here Is New York for me. An assertive, unapologetic, yet nostalgic portrait of New York post-WWII, Here Is New York was commissioned by Holiday, an upmarket travel magazine. White's prose is a pleasure to read - crisp, clean and yet evocative. It was only after reading the book that I made the connection that E.B. White was the same White of Strunk and White's Elements of Style, the writing bible that had accompanied me faithfully throughout college.
It feels a little pointless trying to find words to describe White's prose so I'll just take the easy way out a 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 enormous and 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 maintenance of morale."
Those who know and love New York will enjoy reading this love letter to a city as it stood more than half a century ago. Those who don't love the city can just fall in love with White's prose.
It is this excerpt, perhaps, that best sums up EB White's Here Is New York for me. An assertive, unapologetic, yet nostalgic portrait of New York post-WWII, Here Is New York was commissioned by Holiday, an upmarket travel magazine. White's prose is a pleasure to read - crisp, clean and yet evocative. It was only after reading the book that I made the connection that E.B. White was the same White of Strunk and White's Elements of Style, the writing bible that had accompanied me faithfully throughout college.
It feels a little pointless trying to find words to describe White's prose so I'll just take the easy way out a 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 enormous and 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 maintenance of morale."
Those who know and love New York will enjoy reading this love letter to a city as it stood more than half a century ago. Those who don't love the city can just fall in love with White's prose.
renecnielsen's review
5.0
An amazing little book about one of the finest cities in the world. It's greatness lies a lot in the ability to describe the enormous changes that make the city be forever the same. In such a way that all the things he describes from just after WWII are still relevant. Although most of those things are no more.
nickoftheparty's review
5.0
I wish I could write like EBW. Or even half as well. Not a word out of place — reading this, as a recent New Yorker, felt like I was afforded the slightest glimpse into the place I now call home.