New York is an old city, and indeed looks it along many of these water-front streets[1] where Herman Melville was born and spent his first fifteen years, this New York waterfront from which he first embarked at eighteen, and where later, from ages forty-seven, to sixty-six, he worked as a deputy inspector of customs. But New York is also the city most expert and ruthless in destroying its past, in eliminating every possible vestige of its past.
Feature, 5424 words
To read the full text of this piece, please choose one of the following options:
|
If you are already a subscriber to the Review's electronic edition, please sign in: |
To subscribe to the electronic edition, please press the button below. |
To purchase access to this article for $3, please press the button below. |