Tough Guys Don't Dance

I had never read a word Norman Mailer wrote; I only knew him as a celebrity hothead and occasional public embarrassment. I knew that Mailer got away with stabbing one of his wives. (He only stabbed the one--there were five others.)

Misogynist behavior and rantings are turn offs for me, so why would I ever pick up one of his books? If Mailer wasn't a good celebrity, why would I think he was a good writer?

Tough Guys Don't Dance changed my tune. The second of two books I bought for a buck each at the Lower East Side book fair (see A Widow for a Year post), TGDD turned out to be a great read.

Mailer passed away last November and according to The New York Times obit:

. . . Mr. Mailer said his favorite novel, if not his best, was “Tough Guys Don’t Dance,” a mystery thriller he wrote, under extreme financial pressure, in just two months in 1984. He was in tax trouble, he explained, and needed to crank something out quickly. “I was prepared to write a bad book if necessary,” he said, “but instead the style came out, and that saved it for me.”

Mailer is beautiful writer, even when writing from the perspective of a "tough guy" who may or may not have committed murder during a drunken blackout.

Hell-Town

Anti-hero Tim Madden rattles around an off-season New England beach town. He is a man who doesn't seem to belong there.

Madden lives on the edge of "Hell-Town," a half-real, half mythical place where demons whisper in his ear. Madden fears his capacity for violence and a reader has every reason to believe he committed a murder or two when in the clutches of bourbon.

When Mailer introduces the Madden's fellow townies, everyone becomes a suspect. Through lyrical prose and raw violence, the events of the forgotten night are pieced together.

96 Schermerhorn Studio Cheap

Gene and I sold our apartment in 96 Schermerhorn in May 2005. So naturally, we remain fascinated by what goes on in the building.

How much are the apartments going for now, we wonder? Translate: how far off the peak did we sell? We had a one bedroom, so studio apartment price wars are less relevant, but interesting nonetheless.

This penthouse studio is newly listed on Corcoran for $275k. The price caught me by surprise as our former neighbors sold their beautiful studio in 2005 for around $265k.

A studio on a lower floor with a $100 lower monthly maintenance and a $375k price tag is in contract. Is the difference between apartments worth $100,000? From our visits, the penthouses are not as glamorous as one would expect. But $100K is a steep drop, my friend.

Another studio in the building listed by a different broker is priced at $369k. Broker #2 tries to position her studio as having .5 bedrooms, but a click on the floor plan will show you that it is no larger than the others. Square footage for all three apartments unknown, but the floor plans indicate they are all about the same.

Hmmm, is our $275K requester just a motivated seller? Is there a real difference in the condition of the apartments?

Let's watch this one.

Is This the West Village, or Am I Dreaming?

Who doesn't dream of buying an apartment in the West Village? And what ordinary mortal doesn't give up this dream as unattainable?

The West Village is usually the first neighborhood to be written off when rubber meets the road. But here is a charmer that some reasonably employed person might be able to buy. Not that I can afford to buy it myself, but here is 800 perfectly-laid out square feet in the West Village for $725K.

The layout is nearly identical to our current apartment in Battery Park City. Only we're renting and we're in BPC.

This apartment is $906 per square foot, ladies and gents, below the $1000 psf barrier. In the Village. Maintenance is high at $1120. But still.

It "needs your loving touch." Uh-oh.

I can tell that no one currently lives there by the sparse furniture in the photos. Desperate seller? Fifth floor walk up? How many years will that be tolerable? For our dog, Aimee, the climb would be tolerable for about one or two walks before she would insist on wee-wee pads.

The Village tranquility is probably vanquished by the stream of ambulances headed for St Vincent's Hospital, a block away. At least you will reach the hospital in time if you are having a heart attack.

Apartment Watch Update

Mid July update on the apartments I have been watching:

• An apartment on State Street between Court and Boerum has seen its second price decrease since being listed, though this cut is only $4,000. It originally listed at $1,049,000, deflated to $999,000 and now sits at $995,000

• The Chelsea apartment I like saw a quick decrease of $15,0000 to $670,000, despite my opinion that the price was good. The location should trump the floorplan flaws. There is another open house Tuesday evening. Let's see if location (location, location) prevails.

• My favorite overpriced apartment on 157 Ludlow on the Lower East Side swapped out the original lead photo of a drab hallway for a more pleasant living room shot. I still say good luck getting $825,000. This apartment is also listed separately as a $3300 rental. Might have better luck with that.

Based on Corcoran's current batch of Newest Properties, I sense the market finally loosening up slightly. I see some Manhattan apartments losing their grip on that $1000 per sq ft barometer, even ones that don't have a devasting drawback, like an outrageous monthly maintenance fee or zero closets.

Brooklyn, Get-Real Estate

'Da bums of Brooklyn are finally feeling the real estate pinch, according to an article in today's New York Post.

The housing prices for buyers in New York City, that is, Manhattan and Brooklyn, have not mirrored the downward trend of the nation. The climbing Brooklyn prices are especially maddening.

I've watched the two playpens closely since 2005. In my corner of the market (one-bedrooms with at least 750 square feet), astonishingly, Brooklyn apartment prices have climbed just as high as in Manhattan. I finally stopped checking Brooklyn listings.

How has Brooklyn sustained that pricing growth? I love Brooklyn, don't get me wrong, but Brooklyn is not Manhattan and never will be. And now, buyers are agreeing.

John Irving, A Novelist Among Novelists

This book has been around since 1998. I picked a copy up for a dollar at the Lower East Side book fair.

I like John Irving. Loved Garp and Owen Meany, but the title of this one, A Widow for One Year, sounded dry. (And A Prayer for Owen Meany didn't? Hmm.) Turned out the book was--as they say--a page turner.

The crux of this novel is novels and novelists. Writers writing about writers is not novel; writers write about writers all the time. But this book is writers writing about writers writing about writers and their writing.

All Irving's characters are writers of different types. Okay, there's one editor and one cop. But those two are window dressing.

Irving explores the question of whether one can assume that a writer is writing about herself. Eddie, does nothing but write about the same pivotal event in his life in book after dreary book. Hannah the journalist accuses best friend Ruth, the good novelist, of writing about their friendship over and over. Ruth doesn't believe this truth, but by the end of the book she does.

Ruth's father, a writer of children's books, writes very little, but is famous. Her mother, a writer of detective novels, is a mystery herself, leaving her family without a trace for thirty-six years. All Mom's novels are about the central tragedy of her life.

A Plot too?

All the musing about writing and exerts from the characters' books are wrapped around a compelling story that kept me guessing. Guessing way too late in the evening. Irving has a knack for making you think he is giving you a spoiler, but he is not. I kept wondering when the "spoiler" was going to happen and made assumptions about its effects. Wrong and wrong again.

A chunk of the book is set in Amsterdam's red light district and Irving makes the dingy area come alive for the reader. Many Dutch words authenticate it as well.

John Irving, the novelist, writes a little too much about breasts. Specifically, Ruth's breasts. For some reason, Ruth's "nice breasts" are mentioned over and over and over again. Her "nice breasts" (no other adjective is ever used) are the only thing some people remember about her. Somehow the nice breasts must have something to do with the lessons of the book.

But you'll have to I connect the dots on that one. I can't.

$825K? A Pipe Dream

This newly listed apartment on Ludlow Street in the Lower East Side stopped me in my tracks.

The lead photo in the listing (shown left) shows a narrow entryway painted a green so drab, the army should check its paint inventory. I hope the seller loves that green because he won't be seeing the green of money.

The $825,000 asking price nets out to the highest PSF (price per square foot) I've profiled so far ($1,136). The copy in the listing might have been written in 30 seconds on the back of a cocktail napkin. Is there nothing to say to justify the price? Is it just not worth the realtor's time?

Pluses, as I see them: four blocks from the F train (a miracle on the LES); a window in the kitchen and a washer/dryer in the unit. An illustration of the building indicates stairs and no mention of which floor makes me think the climb will give you a workout. There are only two closets.

It is a condo, a plus, but the $920 combined fee plus taxes, while about average for a co-op is high for a condo. Very high for a condo with no building amenities, like a doorman. I predict this one ain't going nowhere.

Location
Layout
Amenities
Price

QVC's in Hollywood Fashion

I sold my soul for Hollywood Fashion Tape.

Simple strips of peel-back tape that fasten shirt to bra without damage to fabric. The stuff has powerful hold--like the town of Hollywood itself. To acquire my second supply of tape in a reusable tin with slide-off cover, I made my first purchase on QVC.

Where is a woman in life when she makes her first QVC purchase? In the fifth or sixth inning, at least.

I've been around the periphery of QVC more than most women who don't buy from them on principle. My sister-in-law stays up all night for their St Patrick's Day Irish sale. My mother lavishes me with jewelry, makeup and skin care products I love. All from QVC.

It might be an insignificant difference, but I didn't make those purchases myself so they don't count. The gift certificate for my mom's birthday didn't count either.

But this purchase counts, no way around it. Except! Except, I didn't watch any insipid infomercial to be persuaded to buy. AHA! That's the difference. Going online and heading straight for your desired item doesn't count because you didn't take the bait and let the show reel you in.

I went straight to the Hollywood Fashion Tape. But before I checked out, I browsed the site a bit. Hard to admit, but I saw some nice stuff, some really nice stuff, especially in handbags and jewelry. What is happening here? Please don't let me become like the Quacker Lady that The Soup makes fun of every week! Or like Tova Borgnine, a fellow redhead.

My new batch of Hollywood Fashion Tape arrived yesterday in a plain, padded envelope with a QVC program schedule tucked inside. I almost put the brochure in the trash, but then for some reason, I didn't.