The Odd Woman and the City
Author: Vivian Gornick
Published by: Daunt Books
Pages: 168
Format: Paperback
My Rating: ★★★★★
Published by: Daunt Books
Pages: 168
Format: Paperback
My Rating: ★★★★★
Set in New York, The Odd Woman and the City explores the rhythms, chance meetings, and ever-changing relationships of urban life that forge the sensibility of a fiercely independent woman.
Running through the book is Vivian Gornick’s animated exchange of more than twenty years with her best friend Leonard, as well as interactions with grocers, doormen, people on the bus, cross-dressers on the corner, and acquaintances by the handful.
A narrative collage that includes meditative pieces on the evolution of friendship over the past two centuries, in this memoir we encounter Gornick’s rich relationship with the ultimate metropolis.
Running through the book is Vivian Gornick’s animated exchange of more than twenty years with her best friend Leonard, as well as interactions with grocers, doormen, people on the bus, cross-dressers on the corner, and acquaintances by the handful.
A narrative collage that includes meditative pieces on the evolution of friendship over the past two centuries, in this memoir we encounter Gornick’s rich relationship with the ultimate metropolis.
My thoughts:
Every so often, a book comes along that feels like an old friend—one you carry with you, pausing often to underline passages, jot down notes in the margins, and simply soak in its brilliance. To me, The Odd Woman and the City by Vivian Gornick is exactly that kind of book.
Vivian Gornick’s work is diligently being resurrected by the wonderful Daunt Books and The Odd Woman and the City is the latest to be republished. The paperback is a slim memoir in essay form, that casts Gornick as a modern-day flâneur traversing the streets of her beloved Manhattan, aiming both to keep loneliness at bay and to feed her insatiable writer’s curiosity.
The writing is sharp, witty, and deeply observant, weaving together reflections on life in New York City with personal anecdotes and literary musings. But what struck me most—and what I found myself savouring on every page—is her beautiful celebration of female friendship and independence. There is an effortless intimacy in the way Gornick captures the rhythms of conversation, the comfort of companionship, and the pull of solitude. She describes chance encounters with strangers in the city, bits of strangers’ conversations overheard, and running into acquaintances on the street corners. The vibrancy and pulse of the city breathes life into every page, and readers are also treated to some reflections on reading and how Gornick identifies with those solitary women in some of her favourite novels, particularly George Gissing’s The Odd Women, from which title Gornick adapted her own.
This book isn’t just a memoir; it’s a meditation on what it means to be alone yet connected, to be a flâneuse in a city brimming with stories. I found myself lingering over her words, wanting to extend the experience for as long as possible. Gornick’s prose is both precise and poetic, brimming with insight that made me stop in my tracks, reread, and reflect.
I carried this book with me to coffee shops, parks, and my favourite reading spots, reluctant to let it go. Now that I’ve turned the final page, I feel a sense of loss—but also an eagerness to seek out more of Gornick’s work.
The Odd Woman and the City is a gem of a book, one that I will undoubtedly return to again and again. If you love introspective, beautifully written narratives about city life, friendship, and self-discovery, this is an absolute must-read.
Overall reaction:
Every so often, a book comes along that feels like an old friend—one you carry with you, pausing often to underline passages, jot down notes in the margins, and simply soak in its brilliance. To me, The Odd Woman and the City by Vivian Gornick is exactly that kind of book.
Vivian Gornick’s work is diligently being resurrected by the wonderful Daunt Books and The Odd Woman and the City is the latest to be republished. The paperback is a slim memoir in essay form, that casts Gornick as a modern-day flâneur traversing the streets of her beloved Manhattan, aiming both to keep loneliness at bay and to feed her insatiable writer’s curiosity.
The writing is sharp, witty, and deeply observant, weaving together reflections on life in New York City with personal anecdotes and literary musings. But what struck me most—and what I found myself savouring on every page—is her beautiful celebration of female friendship and independence. There is an effortless intimacy in the way Gornick captures the rhythms of conversation, the comfort of companionship, and the pull of solitude. She describes chance encounters with strangers in the city, bits of strangers’ conversations overheard, and running into acquaintances on the street corners. The vibrancy and pulse of the city breathes life into every page, and readers are also treated to some reflections on reading and how Gornick identifies with those solitary women in some of her favourite novels, particularly George Gissing’s The Odd Women, from which title Gornick adapted her own.
This book isn’t just a memoir; it’s a meditation on what it means to be alone yet connected, to be a flâneuse in a city brimming with stories. I found myself lingering over her words, wanting to extend the experience for as long as possible. Gornick’s prose is both precise and poetic, brimming with insight that made me stop in my tracks, reread, and reflect.
I carried this book with me to coffee shops, parks, and my favourite reading spots, reluctant to let it go. Now that I’ve turned the final page, I feel a sense of loss—but also an eagerness to seek out more of Gornick’s work.
The Odd Woman and the City is a gem of a book, one that I will undoubtedly return to again and again. If you love introspective, beautifully written narratives about city life, friendship, and self-discovery, this is an absolute must-read.
Overall reaction:
