Back Then: Two Lives in 1950s New York [Hardcover]

Glimpsing this world is like window-shopping on Fifth Avenue at Christmas. I couldn't put it down...

Stylistic quarrels aside, I was struck by what the authors say in their joint introduction about their first collaboration on an article; the piece, about walks in New York, they say, conveyed, "... too much immersion in fashion magazine prose." While, the authors' claim that they are intent on trying to not let "hindsight, regret and reconsideration" distort their account is too ridiculous to even critique, I do believe that they have successfully conveyed the extent to which the people that they were "back then" (if we are to believe them, this has no bearing on the authorial voice which represents these people!) were "too much immersed" in a certain kind of fashion magazine prose, or at any rate, a certain kind of "let's talk about shoes, hair and makeup and throw in a heavy dose of literary names and references for good measure"-prose.

It has to be admitted that Bernays and Kaplan err on different poles of this prose continuum. Bernays treats us to more excitable detail about socio-fashion related facts, Kaplan leans heavily on name-dropping, french-literary-phrase-dropping and posh-literary-gossip. Bernays tells us more about sex (hers and others'), divulges more about familial structures (though where, oh where, has her sister gone, and for that matter, how come I only find out close to the end that Kaplan has an older brother!). Essentially she's very much the charming hostess of this work, while Kaplan lives up to the character created (by both him and her) of being the somewhat taciturn but serious/serial literary insider (the sense of humor which both he and B claim he has, is something which he keeps very much under wraps in actually formulating his account.)

This book (as laid out in the intro) sees it self as being not in the memoire genre, but rather, as a glimpse into "lives" of a certain kind (class?) "back then." However, perhaps due to the authors' insistence to not let hindsight in, a potentially illuminating critical account is blocked (though to give her credit, Bernays slips up, and occasionally tries) -- such that I am given neither "two lives" (in the sense of two strong personal narratives) and nor am I really given the tools to understand the "everyman" of the world which K and B portray. So, basically the book reads to me like a peep into a cocktail party to which I'd never be invited (wrong class, wrong age, wrong clothes, wrong interests etc.); I can smell the delectable food, glimpse the martini glasses, and discern some muffled conversation and laughter -- but it's all to fuzzy to make anything out, the people seem artificial, out of date, and frankly, not all that interesting, and there's a better party going on round the corner.