| Title | : | New York City in 1979 |
| Author | : | |
| Rating | : | |
| ISBN | : | 0241338891 |
| ISBN-10 | : | 9780241338896 |
| Language | : | English |
| Format Type | : | Paperback |
| Number of Pages | : | 47 |
| Publication | : | First published June 1, 1981 |
A tale of art, sex, blood, junkies and whores in New York's underground, from cult literary icon Kathy Acker.
New York City in 1979 Reviews
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This little book is a condensed literary monster. In fact it belongs to no genre and eludes any attempt to classify it.
According to most (Good)readers, it's total crap; according to Fede's humble opinion, it's good - in its own way. 47 pages of urban snapshots reminding of neon light and videoclips, sort of poetic prose fed with Freebase imagery and late 70s amorality, a concentrate of Acker's unique writing style.
I personally don't understand why people seem to dislike this book so much; maybe they expected it to be some kind of revolutionary milestone in literature and found themselves disappointed by its apparent simplicity?
It's basically a collection of short dialogues and even shorter random thoughts and aphorisms, plus some b/w pictures of New York. The subject? Hard to tell. Whores spending the night in jail, pseudo-artists discussing their questionable notions about feminism, the revolting description of an old woman's genitals, an existentialist / punk / intellectual / nymphomaniac who is seduced and dumped by an allegedly homosexual guy... and, around and above them, 'New York City in 1979': drugs, nightclubs, street-art, safety pins stuck through upper lips, green Mohawks, subculture, counterculture, the death of culture. The end of DecaDance and the beginning of decadence.
All in all, an interesting read and a good introduction to Acker's work - at least, not so shallow as many readers describe it.
An overwhelming sense of mental and physical alienation can be perceived in these few pages. Take these two excerpts, for instance:
"I am lonely out of my mind. I am miserable out of my mind. Now I'm going into the state where desire comes out like a monster."
"As soon as Janey's fucking she wants to be adored as much as possible at the same time as, its other extreme, ignored as much as possible.
This is the nature of reality. No rationality possible. Only this is true. The world in which there is no feeling doesn't exist. This world is a very dangerous place to live in."
This should have been a much longer book; I would have loved reading some 200 more pages of such fascinating prose.
By the way, I read this with more painkillers than blood flowing through my veins and two thick swabs up my nose, so my judgement might be a bit unreliable at the moment. I enjoyed it: let's leave it at that.
(Suggested soundtrack: Blondie, "Atomic", 1979) -
Snapshots of gritty lives in NYC. A mixture of conversational snippets mostly about sex with odd political lectures thrown in. I kind of like Acker's writing but I can't claim to understand her.
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''Intense sexual desire is the greatest thing in the world.''
‘LESBIANS are women who prefer their own ways to male ways.’
Women💕💕💕>men
‘Janye dreams of cocks. Janey sees cocks instead of objects. Janye has to fuck.’
Very inspiring 69/10
I didn’t know when I got this that it contained pictures. They are really fucking good.
I love big cities. I don’t think I can live anywhere else.
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I have not previously read any of Acker’s work and, despite not wholly gelling with this collection, would be interested to read more from her. This brief volume read like nothing other than a punch in the face. The writing style, the tone used, and the language chosen all clearly and cleverly duplicated the focus on New York’s dark and seething underbelly. The reader was spared no ounce of pain nor passion, villainy or vulgarity, and whilst I appreciate this, I also did not fully understand what I was supposed to take away from these insights.
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Well I came to San Francisco for the summer hoping against hope to find inexpensive copies of Acker's books to continue my project of reading her in order backward but, just like last summer's fruitless search for a dog-eared copy of To the Lighthouse--for fuck's sake--I've drawn a blank. Although I have found a nice copy of Gaddis's A Frolic of His Own, the next of his I wanted to read, so I'm not complaining too much. This little gem was so compact, though, I had the foresight to slip into a side pocket of my suitcase just in case of Acker withdrawals. They came on strong this afternoon so I read it.
Scrumptious.
It has, in a super compact little gem, most of Acker's most interesting themes and techniques. The rapid-fire string of logical sentences burying us in the most radical politics. Useless descriptions of nothingnesses. A little autobiography. A bit of Baudelaire. The NYC scene. The Mudd Club. (I didn't even mind the photos and I like the single book format.)
I loved it. Just what the doctor ordered. -
Aside from reading the first twenty or so pages of Blood and Guts in High School before deciding it wasn't for me and putting it down, I was quite unfamiliar with Kathy Acker's work. 'New York City in 1979' is a short story described in its blurb as 'a tale of art, sex, blood, junkies and whores in New York's underground.' Acker is referred to in the same blurb as a 'cult literary icon'.
This is the first Penguin Modern to include photographs in my ordered reading of the series, and these, which are by Anne Turyn, I enjoyed. I was not keen at all on the accompanying text, however. Its blurb makes it sound rather gritty, which I am fine with. I found the story vulgar, though. 'New York City in 1979', which was first published in 1981, is fragmented in its prose style and format, and feels rather cobbled together. There is little coherence here; rather, it feels as though Acker made a series of notes, connected only due to their New York setting, and published them without any editing. The tone is impersonal and detached, and the characters are so shadowy that it is difficult to feel anything for them. I felt as though Acker was shrieking her words at times, a fan as she is of random capitalisation. I found 'New York City in 1979' a very awkward tale to read, and the photographs were the only thing here which I enjoyed. -
"Intense sexual desire is the greatest thing in the world"
I really don't see why this has received such mediocre reviews? It's brilliant, quick, magnificently erotic and completely all over the place - it's like reading the mind of someone with ADHD on speed and I adore it completely. I love the repetition, the seething sexuality, the talk of feminism and capitalism - of humans becoming robots to survive and of rich hippies reeping the hard work of the poor and turning into their pleasure. It is grotesque and celebrates that.
But I love reading about the New York art scene in the 60s and 70s and I love reading raw words that dont fit together conventionally. Acker shows a desirous and loose underbelly of a society that has me in thrall. -
Overwhelming urge half way through to go up to my nan's flat on the 18th floor and absolutely launch it from the balcony and watch it swing with great jagged edges and stunning velocity into the unknown.
Not a judgement call on the material which sometimes made it up to *** and sometimes down to *, just an inexplicable drive from someone almost universally too reserved to litter like that under normal circumstances. -
love the short form and this one is particularly great i wish somebody would make a movie or a show based on the book it is extremely scenic
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A product of its time, which is exactly what makes it worth reading.
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Part montage, part reportage, part prose poem, Acker pulls no punches in her account of lives criss-crossing or diverging against a backdrop of poverty, jail and prostitution. The wannabe artist and the worn-out hooker come across as no different under the microscope of Acker’s warts-and-all prose, which is by turns sad, sympathetic and grotesque. By the end of this little Penguin Modern volume, however, it was hard to shake the suspicion that, rather than building up to a valid point about the lovelessness of modern urban life, Acker was simply out to shock.
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During a recent trip to London, I popped my head into the extremely cute Brick Lane Bookshop and picked up Kathy Acker’s New York City in 1979. In its few pages, Acker fits in overheard conversations, observations from outside a nightclub, speculation about the sexual lives of the members of the downtown arts scene, and an interrogation of how desire turns you into an insane person. Acker’s book is part of the Penguin Modern series—gorgeous short works by the greats sold for £1. I’m keeping my fingers crossed that Penguin takes that same idea across the Atlantic! —Nina (excerpted from
Bookish's Staff Reads) -
Ρεαλιστικό, ωμό, αληθινό. Κοινώς πολύ καλό.
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Efter en stark inledning förlorade New York City In 1979 mig. Acker är pubertal där hon söker provocera, plump där hon vill chokera. Hade förväntat mig någon annat och bättre.
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I was glad to read this—it’s a good puzzle piece for her other work.
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An intriguing, almost grotesque way to describe life in a city I’ve never been to during I time I didn’t exist in. I love the descriptive language used.
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Strange enough this is my first entrance into the world of Kathy Acker. Excerpt from her book published by Semiotext(e) "Hannibal Lecter, My Father" this is an enticing snapshot of New York City at a specific time (1979) - and it includes images which I imagine is from the original edition as well. They work well together.
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New York City in 1979: a place full of sex and broken dreams. It is a feminist activity to have sex. Now bung in some photos and split the narrative into chunks showing the lived experience of prostitutes, of lesbians and of heterosexual women on heat. Burn your bras or just have sex - it’s all the same. Written to shock - maybe of use at the time to some timid housewives. Largely irrelevant now - the discourse has moved on for most of us and if it needs this in this day and age the it is unlikely to shift again.
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Un piccolo volumetto finito non so come in wishlist e poi nel carrello di Amazon.
Mi aspettavo una breve ma incisiva panoramica della Grande Mela di fine anni '70. Una concisa riflessione su quegli anni turbolenti. Un breve racconto ambientato in quegli anni.
Invece mi è solo sembrata un'accozzaglia di frasi e situazioni senza capo ne coda...mi è proprio mancato il senso generale dell'opera.
Ho chiuso il libro con un solo commento ... BOH? -
I’ve always meant to read Kathy Acker for referencing reasons in my practice. It’s hard to judge somebody’s work in a 45 page book, but I didn’t hate it. Would probably need a much closer reading and the context of her other work to fully get it though I think.
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That's new york city that's every city that's every human being
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Very experimental and hedonistic in style this felt a lot like if Ginsberg tried to write prose. Strange but somehow very affecting.
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This book was fast, real and dirty just like nyc in 1979 (and maybe now too).
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All leather and switchblades, lou reed and dirty NY.
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i guess the pictures were ok
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No one percieves. No one cares. Insane madness comes out like life is a terrific party.
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Bizarre but captivating. Good short read
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i appreciate kathy acker's experimental prose & the radical intent of her writing but couldn't connect with new york in 1979 overall. it's still a memorable short story though, being a time capsule of a lost era, and offers an interesting look into the underside of urban life during the late 70s.
"New York City will become alive again when the people begin to speak to each other again not information but real emotion. A grave is spreading its legs and BEGGING FOR LOVE."
"...artists now have to turn their work/selves into marketable objects/fluctuating images/fashion have to competitively knife each other in the back because we’re not people, can’t treat each other like people, no feelings, loneliness comes from the world of rationality, robots, every thing one as objects defined separate from each other..." -
Frustrated I hadn't read this yet & o!! Kathy Acker martial law dictates the mandatory spelling of LESBIANS in all caps. Anyway as much as we trumpet the phrase INTENSE SEXUAL DESIRE IS THE GREATEST THING IN THE WORLD - and isn't it fun ! I do find this text complicates that though not so disruptively as to damage its overriding powerviolence. I don't think the description of an 'open slimy hole' is much intended to intensify sexual desire. And o my if men aren't awful.
I think this is exquisite a fuckemup prose poem or daringly a stage play could work. The in-text images I'm trying to work out I think they weren't originally there? But they do splendidly. KA did well
It's necessary to go to as many extremes as possible. -
The second read of July was Kathy Acker's New York City 1979. What was described as the short package of electric prose on stories about Sex, Rage, Violence and the low lights of the city felt more like an extended documentation of a few characters that tried to navigate the aforementioned themes as humanly as they could and even tried the opposite.
Kathy Acker's writing did not move me as I thought it would, although it gave me something that I cherish; Stories about relationships, be it any kind, are the most fascinating to me and from a cult literature contributor, it was intriguing in many, many parts. The inclusion of photographs printed in black and white added the atmosphere that readers needed besides words to imagine.
A short punch.
