The One (Cold) Coffee Book: Making May more Bearable since 1990

Yes, the mercury's @ 43+. Stay indoors, with this:

BRIGHT LIGHTS, BIG CITY

Jay McInerney

In the history of opening lines, Jane Austen be damned, this one sticks its neck out fabulously: You are not the kind of guy who would be at a place like this at this time of the morning. Hook, line and sinker reeled in, you’re then buoyed up by this first-person narrative phenomenon of a book that just happens to happen to you, one that sails you right through to page 174, and the ‘message’: You will have to learn everything all over again. The New York book of the 80s, Bright Lights, Big City is akin to spoken word theatre; it’s almost like the author (who went onto script Gia, among other things) is screaming, at times, whispering at others, and mostly narrating it all in a deadpan yet conversational monotone.

If there ever was a literary equivalent of cocaine, or how addiction plays out in a city that’s super-charged regardless of the ‘substance’ in your blood stream, this is it.

floatin'