I read as lot of books, a couple a week at least. I have bought about 10 books in my life. Those of you with advanced mathematical skills will notice a discrepancy in the numbers. This shortfall in books purchased can be entirely accounted for by the fact I am a skinflint, and the existence of FREE public libraries. Amazing! I have been able to read thousands of books I haven’t paid for??? For those of you who haven’t discovered this amazing resource, I suggest you demand answers from your local council. Sometimes this facility is hidden under the guise of “Cultural Center”, as is the case in Atherton where I ruthlessly exploit this treasure.
Last week as I was leisurely browsing this cornucopia of literary delights, I made a random pick. Heck, at that price, I can afford it. Like everybody else, I usually select books, media, news sources, friends, age group, philosophy, and company of people who agree with me. This is satisfying as it re-affirms my view that I am right and the rest of the world is sadly mistaken. But it is not stimulating, as it mostly doesn’t contain any new radical challenging ideas. Hence the random choice. A book I would never seek, am put off by its topic, and already disagree with from the blurb on the covers. Most of my random choice books I toss aside before the end of the first chapter. This one I finished.
‘Primates of Park Avenue’. A memoir by Wednesday Martin. She and her family move house and find themselves in a totally different culture and have to learn the rules to survive. Yes, she moved all of 4 miles on Manhattan Island to find themselves in a tribe of the uber rich. I have come across such cultural divisions in Ethiopia where you can cross the street and they speak a different language and have different customs, but I didn’t expect it in the USA, let alone on a tiny island.
The author has a PhD in anthropology, and deliberately and amusingly dissects the culture in distant academic language, often comparing the status and power structures with chimp and ape societies. To great effect. Then admits being seduced by the tribe and conforming to its mores and giving a very personal account of the stresses involved in motherhood in that society.
I have travelled in about 50 countries on a low budget which gets you in contact as you have to bargain and barter in the local markets.
Hama girl in Ethiopia
I have never come across a culture so alien as described in this book. I have deliberately made my own life choices to remove myself from such pressures and stresses that are rampant in the society described. I have come to value things such as silence and nature over wealth and status. I cannot understand the desperate, exhausting strivings of these mothers to conform to the expectations of others. It was my glimpse into the rarified world of the world’s uber rich. I am glad I don’t live there.
In Ethiopia, I shared shelter for half an hour under the eaves of a hut with this girl. We didn’t speak. We couldn’t. Not a word in common. But I am sure mI have more in common with her than the tribes of Manhattan.
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