Wannabe-trendy zeitgeist, which seems completely cynical amid the climate of a worldwide economic crisis, growing unemployment rates, and fear of terrorism. (DasMedienBlog.de)
Baking, knitting, crafts—but organic, please. Housewifey flair from the fashion icons at Vision. Cute! (Berliner Neue Nachrichten)
Zoe lowered the media review. “Was that it?” she asked quietly in the direction of the other side of the desk.
Justus grinned at her. “That was it!” he called out in delight.
Zoe didn’t quite understand. “What is there to be so happy about? We were just torn apart by the critics, Justus.”
“Why should we care about the critics if the users love us?”
Zoe jumped up from her chair and ran to join Justus, who kept pointing at his screen in triumph.
“Is that Google Analytics?”
“Exactly,” Justus exclaimed and followed the steeper and steeper graph that showed www.yearning.com’s visitor stats. The site hadn’t even been up for 24 hours, and already it had 20,000 visitors.
“I think the users . . . like us,” Zoe stammered.
“Not like. Love. They love us,” Justus cried out and hugged Zoe so tightly that she hoped she wouldn’t crack a rib.
“Why didn’t you tell me right away, you jerk?” Zoe asked, poking him.
“It was worth it to see your face while you were reading the media review,” Justus said with a grin.
Zoe went into the office kitchen, where she’d been hiding a bottle of champagne. When she returned to their desks, she popped the cork.
When Tom and Zoe returned to their loft on Wooster Street that night, Tom went straight into the kitchen to open their very personal bottle of champagne. Forrest Gump was right, Zoe thought. Life really is like a box of chocolates! You never knew what you might get. But sometimes, when the Universe or the Big Boss—or whoever was in charge up there—meant well for you, or if you were just damn hardworking and a little lucky, too, you got two big, fat chocolate-toffee truffles with chopped pistachios on top.
Zoe set down her new Reed Krakoff briefcase in her study and looked out onto New York’s skyline. Over the rooftops on the other side of the street, she could see the Empire State Building on the horizon. It glowed in red floodlights like it usually would only for Valentine’s Day. Exactly a year ago, Zoe had come to New York with the best of resolutions. She thought back to Allegra’s favorite quote from the day of her very first walk in the city: “There really is one city for each of us, just as there is one true love.”
“And I got both things at once. I basically won the lottery,” she said to herself. “My city and my true love.”
Then she noticed that the little red light on the answering machine was flashing.
She pressed “Play.”
“Hello, Tom, daaaahling! How are you?” a female voice with a nasal British accent said. “This is Vicky. I think we should think this divorce thing over again . . . and by the way, I moved. I’m calling to give you my new number: 212-884-4999. Call me!”
Of course, 212 was New York’s area code.
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
Thanks a million . . .
It’s been a few years now since I was standing by the fireplace near the bar in the middle of winter in the (previously) extremely exclusive restaurant the Waverly Inn (no phone number, no email address, no reservations for mere mortals) making small talk with a man in a suit whose golden buttons flashed in the firelight.
“Cozy warm in here,” I said.
“Like Bermuda in January,” the gold-buttoned man responded.
I’d never been to Bermuda in January. Or in February. Or in March. So what did I say? Nothing. I just stowed away the exchange somewhere in my brain, mixed up with other noteworthy encounters—and wrote a novel about it.
The characters in this book are all fictitious, but the situations in which they find themselves have mostly occurred that way, or could have. (My left turns in driving are still fantastic. Any previous passenger of mine will be able to confirm that!)
This book would never have been developed, expanded, reworded, proofread, corrected, and published if the following people hadn’t believed in me: I would like to thank my wonderful literary agent Georg Simader and his great team from the Copywrite agency for their enthusiastic support and the encouragement to walk new paths.
Also, thanks so much to the wonderful Amazon Publishing team; my brilliant translator Kate Northrop, who solved many tricky little cross-cultural issues; and to my US editor Hana Landes for her incredible eye for detail.
I received valuable input and some extra motivation from the people who endured my requests to read various versions or solve my technical questions (Would Zoe rather wear a wrap dress by Diane von Furstenberg or a little piece by Victoria Beckham?): Carolin, Matthias, Jan, Lino, Jobst, Pit, Nadine, Olga, Harry, Vanessa, Caterina—and Tanja, of course; my special thanks for getting tonsillitis at the exact right time.
And thanks a million to the two most important people in my life: M & N, who always believe in me. You guys are my rocks!
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Photo © 2010 Christopher Lane
Susann Remke was born in Nuremberg, Germany, and studied English literature, American studies, sport science, and journalism in both the US and Germany. She has been living in New York for more than ten years with her husband, son, and two cats. She reports directly from the Big Apple for a major German news magazine. New York for Beginners is her first novel.
www.newyorkfueranfaengerinnen.de
www.susannremke.de
ABOUT THE TRANSLATOR
Photo © 2011 Alex Maechler
Kate Northrop grew up in Connecticut and studied music and English Literature in the United States and the United Kingdom, until she decided to try out life as a musician. Her travels took her to the German-speaking part of Switzerland, where she has lived since 1994 with her Swiss husband and their two bilingual children. She now works as both a professional translator and a lyricist. She has written lyrics for more than two hundred songs, and her credits include songs signed to major publishers, lyrics for a song in the soundtrack of an award-winning German film, and many more. She has translated several novels.
New York for Beginners Page 27