Bartleby and me Reflections of an old scrivener

A new memoir from the celebrated and controversial literary journalist emphasizes Talese's curiosity about the lives of everyday people while chronicling his own larger-than-life career trajectory. Long associated with the New Journalism style of the 1960s, Talese is best known for deeply researched feature stories about big personalities, presented in prose as meticulously crafted as his high-end suits (Talese is the son of an Italian-born tailor). But his book-length forays into more salacious content, such as Thy Neighbor's Wife (1980), in which Talese reported first-hand on changing sexual mores, were also very much exposés of Talese himself. Now in his nineties, Talese reminds us that he has always been most curious about the lives of "nonnewsworthy people: doormen, bootblacks, dog walkers, scissor grinders, the late-night tile cleaners in the Lincoln and Holland tunnels." Recounting his unsuccessful quest to interview Frank Sinatra, Talese explains how observations of Sinatra's entourage became the backbone of his most famous celebrity profile. With some overlap with his earlier memoir, A Writer's Life (2006), and new material, this demonstrates Talese's influential investigative and storytelling skills.

"When I joined the Times in the mid-1950s, I wanted to specialize in writing about nobodies," explains Talese (The Voyeur's Motel) in this nostalgic jaunt through his career. Hired as a copy boy, Talese made a name for himself by covering "the nobodies" who worked at the Times itself, such as electrician James Torpey, whose job for over 30 years was to operate the paper's famous "electromechanical moving-letter news sign." Throughout his tenure at the Times, Talese reported on the goings-on of "non-newsworthy people: doormen, bootblacks, dog walkers, scissor grinders." He explains that "as a reader, I was always drawn to fiction writers who could make ordinary people seem extraordinary," and cites Herman Melville's "Bartleby the Scrivener," about a contrarian Manhattan law clerk, as an influence. In the book's star-studded second part, Talese reminisces about the three months he spent within Frank Sinatra's inner circle on assignment for Esquire, while part three recounts the strange tale of Nicholas Bartha, who in 2006 blew up his beloved 62nd Street brownstone to prevent it from being seized in a divorce settlement. A smooth and enchanting wordsmith, Talese delivers a lovely testament to the "unobtrusive if not kindred Bartleby personalities" of New York City. It's a delight. (Sept.)

More revelations from the celebrated writer's life. In 1953, Talese, then 21, began working as a copy boy at the New York Times, earning $38 per week, a job that launched his successful career as a journalist for the Times and other outlets. As the author recounts in his latest memoir, he was interested from the start in writing about characters he likens to Herman Melville's taciturn Bartleby, people who work largely unnoticed: those "on the sidelines of stadiums, individuals who are part of the game but rarely written about." His first published piece--unsigned--was an interview with the electrician in charge of the illuminated sign that flashed news in Times Square. His first byline was for an article about the rolling chairs that transported visitors on the boardwalk in Atlantic City. With the encouragement of editors at the Times, where he spent seven years as a reporter in the news department, and, later, at Esquire, where he contributed features, Talese was most satisfied writing about the "lives of non-newsworthy people," such as Times chief obituary writer Alden Whitman and retired silent-screen star Nita Naldi. But Talese also reprises at length an episode he included in High Notes (2017), detailing his frustrating, convoluted efforts to interview Frank Sinatra for a profile in Esquire. The interview never happened, but the article did: "Frank Sinatra Has a Cold" appeared in April 1966. More in line with Talese's interests was his research for Thy Neighbor's Wife, which immersed him in the world of massage parlors and nudist colonies; The Voyeur's Motel, about a motel owner who spied on his guests; and the life of Nicholas Bartha, a physician who burned down his Upper East Side brownstone rather than sell it to remunerate his ex-wife in a divorce settlement. Fans of Talese may already be familiar with many recollections; new readers will discover an astute observer. Candid testimony from a new-journalism icon. Copyright (c) Kirkus Reviews, used with permission.