Gay Talese, creator and teacher along with Tom Wolfe of that revolutionary genre that was called new journalism (although he doesn't care about 'new' because he assures that he has always done journalism, nothing more), says goodbye to his readers in full form. The American writer (Ocean City, 1932), who has left his mark on the best media in his country and the world over six decades, hangs up his pen with 'Bartleby and I. Portraits of New York' (Alfaguara), a memoir in which he reviews his most brilliant reports and signs the last of them, 'El browstone del doctor Bartha', which is on par with the best.
Already over 90 years old, Talese has written a book that is a delight not only for his followers, but for all those who aspire to now enter the bibliography of a journalist who knew how to capture like no one else, through music, sport or culture, the changes in North American society after World War II.
In 'Bartleby and I' this son of a tailor who suffered harassment from his colleagues because of his Italian origin shares his work habits (for example, he says that he has always taken notes on the labels that are returned to him with the suits at the dry cleaners) and reveals the ins and outs of his great articles, such as the now legendary 'Frank Sinatra has a cold', chosen by readers as the best report ever published by Esquire magazine. The recognition demonstrates the talent of Talese, who spent months chasing a shadow, Sinatra, that he could never truly access. And yet, only with the testimonies of the singer's secondary life was he able to weave an article that has marked contemporary journalism. The title's reference to Bartleby, Herman Melville's scribe who would “prefer not to,” is no coincidence, of course. During his seven decades in journalism, Talese has always enjoyed portraying the Bartlebys, and above all, the Bartlebys of New York, the supporting characters who have built the Big Apple.
In this last book, however, Talese talks more about him than ever: he remembers his first report in the New York Times about an operator who changed the lights of the electric sign that showed the city the news that was produced in the newspaper; relives the joy of knowing that one of his pieces was going to see the light, at a time when competition among reporters was fierce and young people had it very difficult; and above all, he displays a prodigious memory (or an endless archive of notes) in which he recounts, as if it were the first day, his interviews, with that love for details that is the trademark of the house. . “I don't mean to suggest that I have an 'absolute memory' – something Truman Capote claimed during the documentation process for 'In Cold Blood' – but rather I believe that having spent decades interviewing people without the aid of a tape recorder has provided me with “with a high retention capacity,” writes the author of dozens of reports in The New York Times, The New Yorker, Time, Harper's Magazine or the aforementioned Esquare, and of books such as 'You Will Honor Your Father', 'The Children' or 'The Bridge'.
But Talese in his latest work is not satisfied with living off the income. At the end of 'Bartleby and I' he leaves a treasure, the story of Dr. Bartha, an eminent doctor from Manhattan, corroded by debt and a problematic divorce, who blew up his luxurious apartment in a gas explosion. house on the Upper East Side rather than leave it to his ex-wife. Talese's career could not close better than with this demonstration of love for New York, the city with which he blended in to rise to the podium of journalism.
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