skygiants

Man, there is something about writing about New York nightlife that makes authors lose ALL SENSE of literary proportion. Admittedly, the last time I picked up a book on this topic, it was written by a sensationalist in the 1850's, so there is some excuse for "the festivities of prostitution and the orgies of pauperism". New York Night: The Mystique and its History, on the other hand, I acquired from the library with the impression that it was meant to be a fairly straightforward history of New York nightlife, with a chapter covering each decade or so from 1643 to the 1990s. And yet - well, okay, I'm just going to give you some prosaic gems from the prologue:

Collaborating with land, water and buildings, this astronomic nightfall, every day different and striking no other place on earth at just the same angle, dictates the look and feel of the oncoming dark hours

The silky forms laughing and chattering behind the tinted glass of a club or restaurant are probably cutthroats engaged in the first skirmishes of the evening, when a hundred thousand gang wars for love and success are waged at their fiercest

Toward dawn, as if released by the rasp of iron hinges, succubae and incubi fly out: nightmare thoughts, in check during the day, point with skeletal fingers to remorse, death and vanity, their victims everywhere

SUCCUBAE AND INCUBI, GUYS. I read bits of this out loud to innerbrat and rushin_doll and they thought I was reading from an urban fantasy novel. The whole first chapter is like this. It is the purplest prose I have ever read in nonfiction; it ranks among the purplest prose I have read ever.

As one goes back, few towers, however remarkable in themselves, diminish Manhattan's urgent verticality as they vanish one by one OH GOD GUYS I CAN'T STOP. *cough*

Anyway, once Caldwell settles down into actually writing about history, the density of metaphors lightens to a significant degree and he turns out to be an entertaining and often witty writer. Occasionally he'll go off on a long enthusiastic purple tangent about something and you just sort of have to sigh and wait it out, but the content is incredibly interesting. I mean, it's no secret that I find New York fascinating and New York history fascinating, so this is especially tailored to my interests, but. The sneaky nineteenth-century gay nightclub ads disguised as censorious comments in the gossip pages! The burlesque wars in Times Square! The 1849 riots over competing performances of Macbeth that killed 31 people! (SHAKESPEARE KILLS, GUYS.)

The book, however - alas! - contains no actual succubae or incubi, although there is a possible case of spontaneous combustion (but don't worry, Caldwell seriously assures us that "to this day no one knows whether or not spontaneous combustion really happens (it has never been witnessed by an observer who could satisfy skeptics.)")

And speaking of cities that I love - hey, I'm going to London tonight! I have no idea what my level of internet access will be there, but my guess is 'available but extremely limited,' so expect radio silence around these parts until I get back next Thursday. I am SUPER EXCITED, in case you did not guess. After all, as Mark Caldwell will tell you,

in London, the Thames at night urges itself on, a cold void in the city's midst; light ranges from garish Piccadilly Circus and Leicester Square to serene neighborhoods of knitted, sibilant greenery and thick-curtained windows.

UK-ers, if you don't show me some knitted, sibilant greenery while I'm there, I will tell you frankly I will be disappointed.