reasons to love new york, no. 9

On a random, rainy Tuesday in April that was otherwise of no consequence or significance to anyone, I walked into the Barnes and Noble across the street from where I work, took a seat in the front of dozens of rows of chairs and listened to the distinctive New England accent of Joyce Carol Oates as she read aloud one of the stories from her new collection of fiction, Dear Husband.

No author has influenced or affected me as a writer and a person the way Oates has done; for every book of hers on my shelf there is a story of a time and a place (in the world and in my life) that I can recall vividly. Even certain songs that I listened to while reading her books will still remind me, years later, of very specific characters and I can recall in great detail how I'd pictured them in my mind, no strand of hair misplaced from that original imagined face.

Whether or not I stay in New York for too much longer might remain to be seen -- I haven't really made a habit in these past few years of staying in one place for very long, so why start now -- but the one thing I will never take for granted about this city and will always miss once I take my leave is moments like the one I experienced tonight. The best authors, musicians, artists of all sorts and types from across the country and across the globe never miss an opportunity to stop in the big apple. And as long as I can benefit from that, I will be very, very grateful.

Author's note: You will be happy and relieved to learn that I was surprisingly calm, well-spoken and fairly well normal in the presence of greatness this time around, and even got the chance to tell her that I'm a writer, and that her work has been hugely influential for me. I had kind of wanted to tell her that her book, Them, was one of the first books I ever reviewed for my high school newspaper, but we all know how those high school stories have been turning out for me lately. So I decided to hold off on that one. For now.


cheers,
elizabeth