That’s My Girl

If you’re not a Lady Who Lunches, I highly recommend giving it a shot; my own LWL girlfriends have been saviors over the years. I’ve been close friends with Dana, Hilary, Katie, and Kelliann since I moved to New York. We’ve all worked for the same finance company at different points and have enjoyed many lunches, happy hours, and dinners in the Financial District. We are definitely “well-off, well-dressed women who meet for social luncheons, usually during the working week,” though we do still work … even if we spend the majority of our work days chatting one another. A year ago, we started Friday virtual lunches together so we could still see each other and to ease our anxiety about the pandemic. These weekly gatherings were often weekly highlights.

While I read Gabrielle Union’s book, I couldn’t help but think she was gathering with my LWL gang over bottles of wine and numerous cheese plates. That companionship usually didn’t stem from the stories themselves because she’s had such different experiences than any of us have had, especially because she’s a Black woman who’s dealt with so many degrees of racism. It was her writing, which felt so honest, blunt, relatable, and humorous.

Union likely intended for her readers to feel like she was their newest BFF waiting with a drink in hand; the title itself alludes to those long-gone happy hours where the drinks keep pouring. *Oh memories.* The writing certainly lives up to the title’s promises.

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Street Lights, Big Dreams

This genre may not look familiar to you on this blog. That’s because I never read books of essays or short stories. I need a plot, people. I need characters playing out those plots — even if it’s non-fiction, and these are actual people. So no, I have not read a book of essays since starting Big Little Literature nearly three years ago, and I wasn’t expecting to read one — not until Colson Whitehead.

He has easily become my favorite writer the past few years. Between The Underground Railroad and The Nickel Boys, his writing has moved me, and his creativity has inspired me. I’m determined to read all of his books, all of which I know will become instant favorites.

Now mix my favorite writer with my city, and it’s not surprising that I read a book of essays. OK, so I no longer live in a New York City zip code, and I don’t pay those astronomical (but beneficial) city taxes. I’m right across the river though. NYC is where I work when a pandemic hasn’t taken over. It’s the city I stare at every day on walks. It’s the city that changed my life for the better. So yes, it is my city still.

I’ve had intense nostalgia since this pandemic started, and not going into the city every day has broken my heart. My favorite writer and my favorite city would surely cure my blues.

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