Seven Days Walking Manhattan

My sixth visit to New York was different from all the previous ones because it wasn't work-related. The plan was to walk. I did so for seven days and learned how to find old books.

It was late July, and it was hot. We were staying in an apartment on the Upper East Side, just a few blocks from Central Park. I soon realized that my twenty-year-old son knew more about the city than I did, even though he had never visited it before.

He said that the Lower East Side, around Chinatown, was the cool area. That was where the interesting artists and musicians hung out—or at least the ones who were interesting to him.

He also had more energy for nightlife. Significantly more. It ended up with me going to bed when he went out, and getting up when he came home. And then I walked.

The day I went looking for famous bookstores was rainy, and I learned one more thing: most of them no longer exist.

I found one on the Upper East Side, up a flight of stairs. The door was locked, but the owner appeared just as I was about to leave.

He—a large, well-dressed, middle-aged New Yorker—asked where I was from and what I was doing in town. I told him I was there with my twenty-year-old son.

"You must be a good man," he said. "I wouldn't go anywhere with my son."

"Why not?"

"He smokes weed all night and sleeps all day. He belongs to the lost generation! I can't stand him."

I told him I was looking for an early edition of Kurt Vonnegut’s novel "Slaughterhouse 5".

"What? Are you crazy? Are you living in the Middle Ages? People don't go around looking for old books these days!" He thought for a moment and said, “I’ll help you. Come in.”

He unlocked the door and invited me into the office. Inside, there were computers and two people working at screens. A number of old maps hung on the dark walls. The man introduced me in a loud voice:

“This decent man has come from Sweden to look for books here. He’s in deep shit because he’s traveling with his twenty-year-old son. Give him all the help he needs!”

His employees—a young man and a woman—began looking for the book. They searched worldwide and printed out a list of all available early editions of "Slaughterhouse 5".

“This is how it’s done,” the man said. “The International League of Antiquarian Booksellers—ILAB—is the right place. Completely reliable, best prices, and accurate information on the condition of every copy—plus usually fast delivery! Stop running around like that!”

He turned to the woman: “Help this decent man out so he can take care of his son.”

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