The New New Jersey

Written by James Nickras jnickras@fastmail.fm

Where has the time gone, New New Jersey?

It has been about 5 years since The New New Jersey was launched. (About 4 years since it was last updated). Therefore, I believe it would be a good time to have an anniversary party. Or, I found you New New Jersey out in cyberspace and I though you needed some new life.

I have recently read a few titles that all, in part, detail the history of the New Jersey, though they are not explicitly about New Jersey: Nixonland: The Rise of a President and the Fracturing of America by Rick Perlstein, Levittown: Two Families, One Tycoon, and the Fight for Civil Rights in America's Legendary Suburb by David Kushner, and Crabgrass Frontier: The Suburbanization of the United States by Kenneth Jackson.

As you can probably guess, they are all about suburbs and segregating America in the last 50 years. And New Jersey, before you start criticizing me or apologizing for the suburb, I mean no animosity in recommending these titles. I only think that when put together (with hundreds of other writings on United State history), a more clear picture starts to form of why we live where, what makes us angry, and why we vote the way we do.

No real commentary on these titles other than I should have read Jackson years ago (make the kids read it in high school as it covers so much) and Nixonland is quite a tale. Enjoy.

Wednesday, August 12, 2009
06:11 p.m.

Did you say Hoboken?

First, let me begin by stating that I’m not looking for trouble. I have always been a fan of Sarah Vowell. I have spent many of Saturdays and Sundays (depending on where I lived) listening to This American Story, for the sole purpose of hearing her voice and attitude (I particularly enjoyed her piece on the “Battle Hymn of the Republic”. And as a reader, I hold the first few essays in Take the Cannoli about her childhood in Montana and college years, as examples of my favorite memoir nonfiction. I also enjoyed the later stories that involved being a journalist, too. Only love at The New New Jersey (I had a great time “researching” the book as a possible gift for my sister. Oh, to work in a bookstore again.) This blog is not about making enemies, it is about dropping names (Sarah Vowell) and talking about New Jersey. This story is about the influence, by no means deliberately misleading by the author (Sarah Vowell), that shaped a town (Hoboken), in the the mind of a bookseller in Mentor, Ohio (the current author) in the empty vacuum of impression that is devoid of time, space, or reality.

In an essay I enjoyed from the previously mentioned Take the Cannoli, “These Little Town Blues,” Vowell, a great fan of Frank Sinatra, visits his home town of Hoboken, New Jersey. What is presented is a simple,but sad, little town in the shadow of New York City across the Hudson, where the towns people who cannot get out, cannot get over the idea that Old Blue Eyes was once just like them. (Author’s note: I would like to avoid being mistaken for a serious journalist by admitting that I did not reread this essay, which I read about two years ago. As it will hopefully be explained, it is not necessary to this piece.) For years, this was my impression of Hoboken. A town too small for the Big Apple, but with a good view.

This essay was not alone. A documentary on PBS about Alfred Kinsey painted a similar picture of Hoboken (Kinsey was also a native a century ago.) I know, times change. People gentrify, but these were the views I held from the midwest.

But what I noticed when I finally took to PATH over to Hoboken, is how renewed this urban area is. I know there is always room for improvement, but Hoboken seems to have what others are striving to become. Going on a Sunday, I saw people filling the streets, shopping at local businesses, and nice architecture. From the train station, one could easily find forty places to dine within ten minutes by foot. (I should confess that I ate at a pizza restaurant that advertised the largest slice. It filled two paper plates, but I’ve forgotten the name of the establishment. I’m not trying to pretend to be a travel writer either.) It’s like being in Manhattan (we’ll maybe not). Who wouldn’t want to live in/visit Hoboken?

The point being, like Fell’s Point in Baltimore and Mill Hill in Trenton, Hoboken is a nice looking neighborhood, despite what I had imagined. And do read Sarah Vowell’s new book. I believe she goes to Garfield’s tomb at the Lakeside Cemetery in Cleveland--two great neighborhoods: Murray Hill (Little Italy) and Coventry.

Saturday, April 30, 2005
03:41 p.m.

Me and Philip Roth
The April 3rd edition of The New York Times New Jersey section focused on commuting in the Garden State. It was like reading my own obituary. I flipped through the pages not motivated enough to read, but I perused pictures of traffic jams and people climbing on buses to get out of New Jersey. I started reading the piece about the train commuter who got a perverse enjoyment from looking in backyards of suburban houses he passed, but I could read no more. I had to blog my own NJ Transit “slice of life” story. And drop a few book names, of course.

I should warn readers, this slice of “life,” does not pertain to real life, but reading. Just a warning.

I should begin with saying I never used public transportation in my past life. Yes, my first semester in college I took a city bus on numerous occasions to shopping malls, but to be honest, I didn’t really travel much in those days. (Or Travel to make it to work. Why would someone Travel with a capital “T” to go to work.) This made my twice daily train ride all the more romantic. It was summer, the sun was always out, and the world was new and going places. I was reading sci-fi and enjoying myself. If one has an imagination.

Three months later it was winter. I was aggressively pushing my way through crowds of holiday-shopping women and children at the Newark Penn Station in a fleeting hope to catch the 8:21 to New York Penn Station instead of the god forsaken 8:29. It was winter and I was looking at my reflection in the window instead of seeing that sunny new world. I was reading dated histories of neighborhoods in Newark that structurally don’t exist anymore. I was reading a history of politics in Jersey City that was published in the 1970’s, followed by Gustave Flaubert’s Madame Bovary, enjoying the suffering of others in this naturalist classic. Somewhere along those train tracks, the spirit of the “let’s commute for hours and live in the Garden State” had left me.

But you ask, “Where is Philip Roth?” Why “Me and Roth,” or better “Roth and I?” Philip Roth’s autobiographical fiction has once again put my life in perspective.

Let me flashback for a moment. There isn’t really an author I would consider my favorite anymore. I can count the names of authors on my thumbs and largest toes who I’ve read more than three of their books. I have always liked Roth, but he just wasn’t favorite material. I have always enjoyed his writing because the main characters (who have had similar lives to the author, Philip Roth) always seem to be people I could see myself wanting to be. I picked up “Goodbye, Columbus” while in grad school and was immediately drawn to the narrator’s work in a public library. The ending shook me enough that I had to read Letting Go. Let me tell you, Letting Go was the perfect book for me at that time. The main character: a loner, a grad student in Literature, attracted to girls with problems. And, the works of Henry James have influenced him. I like to think I’d like to read the works of Henry James. (He is the master of American Realism, or so I’m told). The book was perfect, one doesn’t get this from Hamlet. Letting Go takes place in the Midwest--Iowa, Chicago, and a beautiful description of heading east out of Chicago into Gary. Hey, I lived in the Midwest. It could have been me.

Anyway, years go by, I started but didn’t finish several Roth works, and I found myself living in New Jersey. I became obsessed with the idea of “place.” First the local history books (Jersey City, Trenton, Newark, and even Atlantic City), and then I looked into real-estate in Trenton. Obsessions die, I got restless riding the train. Tried listening to others conversations for a while, lost interest, and I decided to read Roth’s The Great American Novel. The local library did not have a satire of the “forgotten” baseball league. I picked up Nathan Zuckerman instead.

Once again, Roth tickled my fancy with more stories of studying literature and writing in New York. By Zuckerman Unbound, Nathan is living in the Upper East Side. I say, Hey I work in New York. I once rode on a subway through the Upper East Side. But now, unlike Letting Go, all the memories focus on New Jersey in the 30’s and 40’s. Hey I live in New Jersey! Roth likes to talk much about Newark of this time period. Always mention of the orphanage and the nuns. But, by dropping the names of locales, a historic New Jersey is created in Roth’s work (whether the narrator is Zuckerman, Portnoy, or even Philip Roth [in A Plot Against America] of Northern Jersey across the Hudson from Manhattan. You’ve got Newark and Elizabeth (where the fictional Philip Roth’s mom grew up) and Jersey City (where a young Portnoy grew up) and the goyish communities of Irvington and Union City. But he also drops names of towns near where I live (when not commuting): New Brunswick, Freehold, Spring Lake. And though I could have cared less two years ago, when reading that Portnoy’s family spends a month in Bradley Beach, it meant something to me when I read it because I was on a train at the Bradley Beach station. For the first time, I personally felt connected to local fiction. The power of the pen “enbiggens” the locale and the locals. Good work Roth.

But what am I to do Philip? It appears Nathan wants nothing to do with Jersey. Maybe, I think it would be fun to live in the Big Apple too. No more commutes, always something new to see for less than five dollars on a Metro Card. But there is that finely written ending to Zuckerman Unbound, where the now famous Nathan is riding through his old neighborhood that is no more in Newark. What is a new New Jerseyan to do? Eat a tomato?

I know, it is never good to try to want to be like a fictional character. Especially if that character is written by a great writer who is willing to sacrifice a happy ending to write a great novella (Do read Zuckerman Unbound, or don’t.) Especially if that character is egocentric. The point of this retrospective essay: Stop feeling bad about your commute and pick up a good book, because when else in your life will you have four hours a day of uninterrupted reading! Yeah, one day you might find yourself roller skating to work with an iPod in one hand and an iced coffee (I love iced coffee) in the other, smiling all the way, instead of waiting for a drawbridge to close so you can make it to work an hour late! It is that simple!

Monday, April 11, 2005
10:40 p.m.

Minutes at a Diner
A quick hello to Joe Z. from Ohio who commented on an older article.

The other night, Christine asked without searching for a real answer, why people like diners. Gee, I don't know, the flashy lights I suppose. Knowing that you can sit there for hours and not be pestered to leave. Knowing that there will be cake spinning behind glass at the counter. Knowing that there will be omelets served all day at a reasonable price and always served with potatoes of one variety or another. Knowing that the food will not be that great and you may find a hair in your cheese steak. Take your pick. I like the value meals that most diners have with drink, salad, dinner, and dessert. But that is just me.

I've been on a diner bender the last few weeks. Hence the diner on the brain. I recommend the Crystal Palace in Lakewood and the Princess Maria in Wall Township. But there are so many. And if you're in Cleveland Heights, do check out Chuck's for me.

Tuesday, January 18, 2005
09:29 p.m.

Another Holiday Entry

Having been unable to think of anything to add to the poor New New Jersey since Labor Day, I've decided to go the way of all personal information. What is happening with me...

Since the election... I've had much more time on my hands. I still cannot displace the time I spent prior to the election reading, watching, and talking about the forthcoming election. Election, election, election. And for what... Well, I did form a new found interest (and so much info about) in politics. I think someday I'd like to work on a campaign, maybe local. Or at least work at a polling station. A few friends of mine also have found more time on hand and have gone the route of video games. I too like video games.

Well, I've been hanging out at flee markets recently. Lots of fun. For those in central New Jersey, I'll recommend the Englishtown Market, which is very large and has a fast food Indian, a very nice touch. The Collingswood market should also be mentioned, which isn't quite as large, but has a nice mix of of "this and that." I especially enjoyed the used instrument dealers. So much to do. On a recent exersion to Englishtown, I found a "find." Excellent condition vinly of "Quiet Village" by Martin Denny for $.50. I l left with the buyers knowledge that I could fetch at least $2 for that "find" on Ebay. Regardless learn more about exotica at The Tiki Lounge or by typing exotica into your computer.

And finally, to rap this excursion into me up, I love New Jersey History, or at least learning about different cities of New Jersey, I do live here. Princeton is a nice place to walk around. Do check out the Princeton Record Exchange. Do. But my interests in New Jersey have headed farther north towards America's third oldest city, Newark. After reading this article, I felt a patriotic urge to spend more time in Newark. Newark is a slice of America, and I'm not a patriotic person. Eat well.

Monday, November 22, 2004
08:37 p.m.