![]() It was like the city that Lot left, and it would dissolve if it ever began looking backward over its own shoulder. New York kept going forward precisely because it didn’t give a good goddamn about what it had left behind. ![]() As if it were the only place that ever existed and the only one that ever would. He had seen a T-shirt once that said: NEW YORK FUCKIN’ CITY. No, the city couldn’t care less about where it stood. It had no need to believe in itself as a London, or an Athens, or even a signifier of the New World, like a Sydney, or a Los Angeles. The city lived in a sort of everyday present. Strange things occurred precisely because there was no necessary regard for the past. It happened, and re-happened, because it was a city uninterested in history. Born and raised in Dublin, McCann is the author of seven novels, including 'Let the Great World Spin,' 'TransAtlantic,' 'Zoli' and 'Dancer,' as well as three story collections and two works of. Corrigan, a radical young Irish monk, struggles with his own demons as he lives among the prostitutes in the middle of the burning Bronx. ![]() It assailed you with an image, or a day, or a crime, or a terror, or a beauty so difficult to wrap your mind around that you had to shake your head in disbelief. Let the Great World Spin is the critically acclaimed author’s most ambitious novel yet: a dazzlingly rich vision of the pain, loveliness, mystery, and promise of New York City in the 1970s. Every now and then the city shook its soul out. ![]() “One of those out-of-the-ordinary days that made sense of the slew of ordinary days. ![]()
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