Brooklyn Was Mine

Obviously, my name says how much I love my native home. Were there a viable possibility of moving back, I would do so in a Brooklyn minute. That being impossible, I read about Brooklyn. And I also write about it. But since no one hiss asked to read my work, I read what others have written. This compilation is from those who share my feelings. In spite of the fact that my Brooklyn life pre-dates most of these stories, the emotional Cyclone that our hometown has taken all of us on, is the same. It was good to go home again. mario

I don't have great Brooklyn credentials. Even though I was born there, my parents moved me out of Ditmas Park just in time for my first birthday. I later spent two years on the fringes of Bensonhurst living under what was then the "W" (and is now the "D") train. In spite of my accent I am not nearly as Brooklyn as I'd like to be. However, being born in Brooklyn, the grandson of immigrants who came there and the son of parents who came of age there, I've always identified as "Brooklyn" and will never live too far from it. "Brooklyn Was Mine" is a brilliant collection of essays about various aspects of modern Brooklyn life. The best of these are soaring examinations of how humans grow and form bonds in Brooklyn neighborhoods that more closely resemble small towns than big cities. The worst are merely too brief. For those who have roots there, this collection is a look back. For those who've never been there, it shows that Brooklyn is much more than its popular stereotype. The best essays include: -"I Hate Brighton Beach" by Lara Vapnyar, a look at a neighborhood that's so Russian in character it eclipses its mother country; -"Reading Lucy" by Jennifer Egan", which examines the private letters of a young married couple during World War II and then poignantly wonders whether the writers may still be alive today; -"Ruckus Flatbush" by Jonathan Lethem, an apocalyptic valentine to the word "fuggeddabouddit", with an introspective postscript -- both worthy of the author of Motherless Brooklyn and The Fortress of Solitude; -"Eli Miller's Seltzer Delivery Service" by Emily Barton, a look at a uniquely Brooklyn industry now in its twilight; -"Brooklyn Pastoral" by Darcey Steinke, which shows us that Central Park is not New York City's only urban paradise; -"Diamonds" by Colin Harrison, an inventory of youth baseball fields that's already one of my favorite baseball essays of all time; -"Bridges" by Joanna Hershon, in which the author investigates a family legend involving her immigrant grandmother and the Brooklyn Bridge; -"A Windstorm in Downntown Brooklyn" by Robert Sullivan, a look at the whirlwinds of Court Street which is so vivid that it conjures up some unpleasant smells even to this reader a continent away; -"A True Story" by Darin Strauss, which, as any Brooklyn collection must possess, is about the Dodgers; and -"Home At Last" by Dinaw Mengetsu, in which one of the next generation of Brooklyn immigrants describes how he came to find a sense of community in a place called Kensington. None of these essays are very long, but they're all powerful. Like Brooklyn, they're made up of a diverse group of personal stories told by a diverse group of writers; like Brooklyn the borough itself, "Brooklyn Was Mine" is much more than just the sum of its parts.

Having reached adulthood in the early 1960's after two decades in Brooklyn, I took to the 19 personal essays in this anthology like Pangloss, Candide and Joni Mitchell coming back to the garden. Ebbets Field, Coney Island, the St. George Hotel swimming pool, Prospect Park and more were remembered in pitch perfect tones by the writers. For the editors and the world-class contributing authors this book was unequivocally a labor of love, as all sales proceeds will be donated to Develop Don't Destroy Brooklyn, a community action group fighting the "Manhattanization" of Brooklyn. For readers who enjoy visiting the landscapes of childhood, Brooklyn Was Mine is a great bedside companion.