The air of the city smelled like hot dogs yesterday as I made my way to Bryant Park in a spattering rain.
Luckily there was a tent set up for the Reading Room, an area of the park along 42nd Street where I took part in a panel with three other debut novelists: Cristina Alger, Karl Taro Greenfeld and Karen Walker Thompson. They were each of them charming and thoughtful, so I tried to live up to their example, and the event went well.
I wonder what the air of New York smelled like in August 1664? Waffles? Manure? Clover?
Jean Zimmerman 