On a snowy Sunday afternoon, you go to Pioneer Works looking for a poetry book. “The Endless Garment” is related to an exhibit at the Brooklyn’s Red Hook art space. The sign out front says free and open to the public, but the first thing you see inside, as your eyes adjust to the darkness, […]
Endless Waiting for “The Endless Garment” Read More »
On the second floor of McNally Jackson at the South Street Seaport, in the children’s section of the bookstore, a long table displays objects including a baseball glove, a Mr. Potato Head, and a collection of silk neckties. Two rows of chairs surround the table on three sides. This is stage and theater. A show
BOOKS: At the Bookstore, the Play’s About to Begin Read More »
I lived on the Lower East Side in the 1990s. The neighborhood was very different then. There were still vacant lots and crumbling brick buildings. Every morning at dawn, I’d hear a rooster. My boyfriend and I lived in a studio near Avenue C. An old man lived below us, and when his son would
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Review of “Green Lankton: Could It Be Love,” edited by Francis Schichtel, Jordan Weitzman, and Nan Goldin A photograph shows three women sitting on a couch: one fat, one emaciated, one somewhere in between. They are topless, wearing a coquettish combination of heels, ribboned stockings, and flowers in their hair. Are they waving at us,
Quinn on Books: Protect the Dolls Read More »
Christmas Eve. A snowy night. A distraught man stands on a bridge, staring down at the icy water. Suddenly he hears a splash and another man’s cries for help. He dives in to save him. That stranger turns out to be his guardian angel. What follows is one of cinema’s most enduring parables of despair
Review of “The Director,” by Daniel Kehlmann; translated from the German by Ross Benjamin by Michael Quinn A director has an idea for a screenplay: wealthy passengers aboard a luxury cruise ship find their peace of mind poisoned by rumors of an impending war. Trust erodes, factions form, conflict escalates. Then, news arrives from a
Quinn on Books: Pabst Blue Ribbon, by Michael Quinn Read More »
I moved to the city in the 1990s for a publishing job. Wally Lamb’s “She’s Come Undone” had just become a bestseller, and I remember an in-office celebration with a sheet cake decorated with the book’s cover. New and nervous, I hadn’t yet learned the hierarchy: editors sat at the table, assistants along the wall.
Strand Day celebrates 98 years in the neighborhood, story and photos by Michael Quinn Read More »
University Place is bustling with students. Turn the corner onto East Eleventh Street and the crowds disappear. In the window of one of the block’s longtime restaurants, a sign pleads, “WE NEED YOUR HELP!” When you hear “vegan restaurant,” the first word that comes to mind is probably not “elegance.” But at Peacefood, that’s the
Give Peace(food) a Chance, by Michael Quinn Read More »
Before there was a city, there was a crooked path. Today, we call it the Bowery—one of New York’s oldest streets and most fiercely contested strips of cultural real estate. Winding from Chatham Square to Cooper Square, it predates the city’s grid and bears the weight of centuries: from Lenape footpath to Dutch wagon trail to
Appetizer I stepped into the original Fedora, on West 4th and Charles, nearly 20 years ago. I was looking for a place to have a quick drink. Its neon sign drew me to its ivy-covered building, its entrance a few steps below street level. Inside: red light, a pink portable stereo on the bar next
