Minor Characters, by JOYCE JOHNSON.
One of the reviews of the book says:
The best memoirs make you feel that you have been hanging around the same apartments, sharing subway benches, drinking bottomless cups of coffee at the same diner with someone.
I concur 100%. I originally read to read about Kerouac, but ended up falling in love with Ms. Johnson instead.
- "I loved the slums, my slums, the sweet slums of Bohemia and beatnikdom, where sunflowers and morning glories would bloom on fire escapes in the summer."
- "I bought seven-cent bagels and ten-cent half-sour pickles and sat up till dawn in Rappaport's, where they gave you a whole basket of rolls free, drinking coffee with a jazz trombonist from St. Louis and a poet just arrived from Chicago."
I have longed to find a place like that my whole, whole life. I found it in this book.
Enjoy if you read it!
1 comment:
Fabulously interesting blog. The husband and I are pondering a while spent in Montreal--we might head up there this Christmas to check it out, in fact. Is it terribly cold? Is it terribly French? Would my horrible French become marginally better?
Thanks for your comment. I'm new to blogging, just testing the waters, trying to figure out how I feel about it. I'll check your blog regularly, now.
xxx
Julia
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