“[Y]ou have to care in
New York or you’ll die. It's not like L.A., where you can go around with your
purse unsnapped or lost in thought even on the freeway. In New York, the gossip
will get you if crossing the street doesn't: for the gossip is so dense and
thick that it hovers over the entire city like an enraged bear, ready to snap
its teeth on anyone who isn’t fast enough to cover herself with alibis, low
profiles, or return red herrings aimed strategically somewhere else. The gossip
is like a lightning game of backgammon with rolls of dice leaving behind broken
hearts, the dissolution of entrenched power, and awkward guest lists. Everyone
(who's left) waits for the next roll, eyes glued to the die. You cannot
not
care in New York. Even I know that. You’ll die just crossing the street. It’s
exciting.” —American artist, author and muse Eve Babitz, “A Californian Looks
at New York,” in I Used to Be Charming: The Rest of Eve Babitz, edited
by Sara J. Kramer (2019)
This paragraph gives a
pretty good idea of the sit-up-and-take-notice quality of Eve Babitz’s prose.
For anyone who hopes to get a sense of California from the 1950s to the 1990s
(when a freak accident left her with third-degree burns and effectively ended
her writing career), I can hardly imagine a more compelling guide.
But, reading this now, in
a time of isolation (even as so many hope that era is coming to an end), the
quote above feels disconnected from our time. Gossip thrives on society: not
merely secrets shared between two people at minimum, but entire occasions that
bring people together, encouraging loosened inhibitions and unexpected shared
confidences. We have had little to none of that in the COVID-19 pandemic.
Maybe New York will be
returning to a recognized form of normality when gossip (as delicious as it is,
in Babitz’s words, “dense and thick”) comes back, in the way we once
remembered.