The Mysterious Bookshop is among the greatest spots in Manhattan; it's around the corner from a cousin of mine. I don't really understand the geography of Tribeca, but if you see the strange "Oculus" station, then you know you are near the Mysterious Bookshop. One of a few admirable missions at the Bookshop: to travel all over the United States and document our country's most bizarre crimes. The books are written in France; the French perspective is supposed to add something new. I haven't actually identified the "special sauce" within the French journalism, but I have read most of the books to date. Books on Chandra Levy (DC), the Murdaugh family (South Carolina), the missing Blackfeet women (Montana). I just devoured the story of Alice Crimmins (New York)--and now I feel that Crimmins is possibly not guilty of "her crime." (Also, how strange to note that she is still alive!) Another fine effort of this bookshop...The owner, Otto Penzler,...
There is a terrific example of an "I Am" song in "Two Strangers Carry a Cake Across New York." Dougal is planning to enter a church where his negligent father will get married. Dougal is ambivalent. He calls his mother--a person who was once abandoned mid-pregnancy--and leaves a voice message. He describes the scene: I'm wearing my suit with the scuffs in the knees-- The one that we got for my GCSEs. If I stand in the street any longer, I'll freeze. If I put my eye to the door, I can just about see-- There are hundreds of people and stars on the tree. I'd better go in and say, Hi, Dad, it's me.... As he makes observations, Dougal is thinking. He is crossing a bridge from childhood to adulthood--he is recognizing (at a cost) that someone who remains silent for twenty-five years is likely someone who does not care about you. The good news is that Dougal does not need his father; Dougal already has what he needs. The last time I wore this, I looked lik...