Two Upper West Side Stories
On August 1, Jennifer Rosoff, an ad executive, 35 years old, takes her date on the balcony of her apartment on 57th Street. She sits on the railing, smoking a cigarette. He is concerned, she assures him she is safe, but then loses her balance and falls to her death.
On November 25, barely 4 month later, Lionel Shriver’s story KILIFI CREEK appears in the fiction section of The New Yorker. A young woman barely escapes death in Africa, swimming in a treacherous river whose name lends the title to the story. Later the scar on her foot continues to remind her of the swim and the accident — she’d struck a rock with her foot. As her life goes on she has several additional brushes with death.
Finally, as a successful executive in marketing at age 37, having survived a dreadful marriage, she starts dating this man David. She takes David on the roof of her building (she lives on the Upper West Side — we might have guessed by now) to impress him on her first date. She sits on the railing, foot placed firmly on the bench. He is concerned, and she is touched by his concern for her safety. And when she starts telling him about that dangerous swim in Africa which marked her life, she is disappointed by the lack of impact the little story has on him. It is at this moment when she loses her balance.
I think of Jennifer Rosoff’s parents as they open this issue of The New Yorker on page 110 and start reading. Like in a dream, I want to shout “stop, don’t go any further,” but no word comes out of my mouth.
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