I arrived in Michigan later than I’d originally planned. I made an appointment with Sylvia Hubbard to discuss matters of writing, books, literary criticism, my practicum and, once again, the current state of urban literature. I was also eager to talk to Sylvia about her collection of short stories, the purpose of literature, and my new disappointment with Anatole Broyard’s posthumously published memoir, When Kafka Was the Rage: A Geenwich Village Memoir.
I drove up Linwood, north of Downtown Detroit, west of Woodward searching for a convenience store that sold Pall Mall cigarettes in the green box. I drove past Richton Street where as a child I spent bright festive summers with anxious cousins riding red bicycles in clean streets, eating ice cream cones on sunny days while frolicking along neat colorful streets in safe neighborhoods. I past Cortland Street in search of the two story house on the left. I arrived early. I sat in my car, lit a cigarette and reflected on Broyard’s memoir…..(cont)
I really enjoyed speaking with you that day. it was an honor to spend time with you!