The hard edges of big-city life

By GRAHAM REID

When Time magazine declared then New York City mayor Rudy Giuliani its "person of the year" for last year - over Osama Bin Laden, who appeared to have made a greater impact - then headlined its profile "Mayor of the World", you could reasonably feel the Big Apple had become the centre of the known universe.

Certainly in the latter half of the past century the city displaced Paris as the artistic hub, and you can hardly argue with the importance of the New York Stock Exchange either.

However, as anyone who has had the good fortune to spend any time in New York will happily tell you - and that Time headline confirmed it - NYC is an almost ruthlessly self-centred city. It's possible to meet educated New Yorkers who know little about New Jersey just across the river, let alone anywhere else in the United States. And as to the rest of the world? Girlfriend, don't go there.

But NYC is a magnet and its diversity of cultures, races, ideas, ideologies, delicatessens and street people make it such a fascinating place to live in you can almost forgive its inhabitants for their self-obsession. And, of course, even at this geographical remove, it is an engrossing place to simply read about, recent events notwithstanding.

Because of its disparate nature and relentless internal discourse, some of the best writing on NYC has been in its daily journalism, the only kind of writing able to keep apace with the rapidly changing moods of the city and its diverse boroughs. The daily detritus, gossip, societal changes and often fiery politics have been recorded in expansive, intelligent essays, and observations and interpretations in such papers as the New York Times, Village Voice and New York Press.

Nelson George - whose Buppies collection is subtitled Notes on Post-Soul Black Culture - has been a regular columnist for Village Voice and his writing is a model for any columnist willing to look and think beyond their own doorstep, refrigerator or television screen for a subject.

His analysis of the difference between "black" women and "African American" is fascinating, he turns a simple visit to the hospital with his niece into a penetrating social observation, fearlessly deconstructs the hypocrisy of the Black Islamists, and is ruthlessly intelligent in his social analysis of the way the media portrays the black and Hispanic communities.

He moves easily between objective observations and highly personal views. His family's daily concerns are mentioned alongside overviews of black film-makers, music stars, sports heroes and low-rent political figures. He's hip to the hard edges of city life and feels the heat of the street.

How many editors would allow a columnist to open with "I know Byron real well, but I don't like him. He's a crack dealer from Jamaica ... "? Or even employ him?

From the death of Tupac Shakur to the sound of gunshots in the night, through an analysis of a Public Enemy album to a study of Michael Jordan's shaved head, George finds cultural significance, humour and purpose in his diverse subjects. As a voice from black America he's hard to beat.

Jamaica Kincaid penned the New Yorker's keynote column "Talk of the Town" for many years until the early 80s and her more slight collection contains astute and often acute, social observations.

As befits the waspish and irreverent column, she revels in sometimes microscopically thin slices of life rendered with an eye for detail and an ear for the mundane. She is at her best when repeating a revealing, overheard conversation (complete with a withering, finely drawn description of the participants) and few of the rich, famous or socially elevated come out well.

Sometimes her pieces are amusing if less successful flights of the imagination, but mostly she is like a short-story writer specialising in non-fiction snapshots.

What these two collections illustrate, however, their New Yorkism aside, is that important aspects of social history can be captured in daily or weekly journalism, from small observations rendered large to intelligent grappling with the big issues. George's collection especially reminds that an intelligent columnist who can turn a vignette into a voice is someone to be valued.

Of course, maybe that person needs to be in a multi-tiered society and swimming up for air in that crazy, unwieldy and confusing implosion that is the Big Apple.

New York, New York, so good they named it twice, as the song says.

Nelson George: Buppies, B. Boys, Baps and Bohos

Da Capo

$47.95


Jamaica Kincaid: Talk Stories

Random House

$26.95

* Graham Reid is a Herald feature writer.