Patient readers! Since I got back to San Francisco last week I have been going about my business, waiting for the moment when a beautiful beaming woman would come up to me and exclaim: “Du hast einen Blog geschrieben!” But, contrary to cultural stereotype, this beautiful German woman is not very punctual.
My recent travels began in New York where I was delighted to see all the sad young literary men. On March 7, I visited Keith Gessen and Marco Roth at n+1’s new offices in Dumbo. Gessen, whose new book, All the Sad Young Literary Men, comes out in two weeks (it is really good!) was engaged in: spackling.
Marco and I headed out into some torrential rain and made our way to our reading in the “Krautgarden Loft,” which had the most amazing bathtub:
I would like to thank all the friends and readers who attended the New York Krautgarden event, which featured no fewer than 13 unheard-of German and American authors. I especially salute Hayley, Vadim, my mom, and Tara from Columbia, who stayed all the way to the end. (I was scheduled for 11PM but, contrary to cultural stereotype, didn’t actually read until after midnight.)
The situation was made kind of more piquant and interesting by the fact that there was absolutely nothing there to eat in the Krautgarden Loft. There was a kitchenette, where some German girls were selling $3 drinks, and it was eventually brought to my attention that if you stood to one side and looked into the kitchenette, you could kind of see a plate of bananas. Around 11PM, I made my way over and asked how much a banana cost. The girls stared at me as if I had landed from the moon.
“Are the bananas for sale?” I asked.
“No, no,” they said. “It’s a private kitchen!” I explained that I had been at this reading for over 3 hours, there were still 5 authors scheduled before me, etc.; but, they insisted that they couldn’t give me a banana unless I got explicit permission from the owner of the loft. By this time a small group of onlookers had gathered at the counter. Some onlookers appeared to think that I should be given a banana; others disagreed. A petite woman elbowed her way to the front of the crowd. “Wass does she want?” she demanded.
“She wants a banana,” one of the girls replied.
“Well, for heaven’s sake give her a banana! And give me one too!” said the apartment’s owner, for it was she, and I would like to thank her here for her generosity. Probably if you are Philip Roth or someone, people are always giving you all kinds of fruits and vegetables all the time; but, as a D-list writer, it is all too often that people are like: “No, go get your own banana.” Apropos of which, thanks are also due to one German guy who not only stayed to the end of the reading and complimented my story, but even offered me a German chocolate! I am quite fond of German chocolates.
Stay tuned for the next installment of My Life and Thoughts, when I will write about my trip to Germany, which is where German chocolates come from.
and Ülker, manufacturer of Cola Turka, and also of something called Badem Kraker (Almond Crackers), which as a child I used to feed to the swans in Ankara’s Swan Park. The thing that made a big impression on me at the time is that the almond crackers didn’t actually contain any almonds at all—rather, they were shaped like almonds. This was my first introduction to metaphor versus metonymy. 
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