I know that Simon has already written a blog about Triburbia but I’m here to reiterate just how amazing this book is.
Triburbia transplanted me, a 27 year old, bookseller, college drop out, tattooed, jeans and t-shirt wearing Mississippian into the oh so high class (yet tastefully artsy) lifestyles of those New Yorkers living in Tribeca. This is a neighborhood where status and wealth are essential but what matters most is that you are different from other New Yorkers, more “artistic”.
“We are a prosperous community. Our lofts and apartments are worth millions. Our wives vestigially beautiful. Our renovations as vast and grand in scale as the construction of ocean liners, yet we regularly assure ourselves that our affluence does not define us. We are better that that. Measure us by the books on our shelves, the paintings on our walls, the songs on our iTunes playlists, our children in the secure little school. We live in smug certainty that our taste is impeccable, our politics correct, our sense of outrage at the current regime totally warranted.
Our neighborhood was settled by artists so long ago the story feels apocryphal. For almost as soon as the larger world became aware of Tribeca, in rushed developers and syndicators and builders and realtors and the name turned into a synonym for a kind of urban living: a little edgy, perhaps, but ultimately safer and richer even than Scarsdale. A certain type of family arrived, drawn by that safety and the faux-bohemianism of Downtown, driving out the actual bohemians. And now, we faux-bohemians find ourselves facing the onslaught of those who don’t even pretend to give a shit about books or theater.”
Now take these residents and add a healthy dose of Triburbia author, Karl Taro Greenfeld’s amazing repartee and what you’ve got is an amazing novel. Just trust me, it’s really good.
by Zita
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