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  • March30th

    I arrive in New York after a long and slow train from Boston to Penn Station (surely a place specifically designed to confuse foreign travelers?) The constant rains have hit the trains hard and I was lucky to make it. (The rain kept coming putting large parts of the east coast under water and the service was later suspended due to flooding.) The delays mean I hit the New York rush hour carrying my luggage, which is about as much fun as gallstones. I make it to Lounge 47 in Long Island City to meet gent and scholar Adrian Mukasa, the wise-cracking videographer I met in this bar during my last visit and who has generously found me an apartment in Queens for my stay. We catch up over some beers before I head to the apartment. It’s blissfully quiet, which is just about the most important thing anywhere I sleep needs to be (and completely unlike my flat in London which is assailed from all sides by the lives and loves of my neighbours).

    Today I meet my editor at Penguin Avery, the quietly formidable Rachel Holtzman. We have lunch at the swanky Marea restaurant bordering Central Park. Rachel has a kind of steely-softness that New York specialises in. She’s got a kind heart, but I suspect suffers fools about as gladly as the Vatican would respond to public conversion to catholicism by Gary Glitter right now. I’m glad to hear she’s happy with the four chapters I’ve delivered so far, and that the publicity and sales people at Penguin have responded well to the book (indeed, I’m to meet them, and the publisher Bill next Tuesday). Talking to Rachel also helps me begin to pull together some ideas about how the book’s narrative will play out. Most exciting however is that she’s brought a mock up of a front cover, and it’s brilliant. It’s simple but has a New Yorker kind of vibe. As soon as it’s finalised (we discussed a few tweaks) I hope to post it up here.

    I spend the afternoon in the main branch of the New York public library preparing for tomorrow’s interview with Chris Anderson, CEO of the mighty TED talks. I’m hoping Chris will help me pull together some of the threads and trends I’ve been battling with, in short, to help me make sense of everything. Given that the TED talks are a nexus for the presentation and discussion of new ideas and ways of seeing the world Chris is probably in the top ten people assailed by the most new ideas on a regular basis on the planet – and so, I hope, has managed to develop a way of bringing them all together into a coherent world view, or (more likely), a coherent attitude to approaching the future.

    After all, on one side you have James Lovelock who says, there’s no way to save the planet and on the other you have Ray Kurzweil who, as I reported in a recent post, says ‘Malthusian concerns’ about us using up the world’s resources are facile because they assume nothing in technology changes (i.e. we can engineer ourselves out of the climate crisis – and indeed just about anything else we care to think of). Meanwhile, in the middle you have eco-pragmatists like Stewart Brand (who I hope to interview in a couple of weeks) whose Whole Earth Discipline is described as ‘an eco-pragmatist manifesto’. (You can see Stewart talk about ‘four environmental heresis’ here.

    Tomorrow’s going to be an interesting day…

  • September20th

    New York. It’s not the architecture, or the hustle, or even the simple excitement of being somewhere different than home, it’s a feeling. To quote Billy Joel, I’m in a New York State of Mind. London, Paris, Swindon, New York. They’re all the kind of cities that feel like the penultimate chapter in a epic narrative, a story that somehow never ends but is always heading somewhere. (OK, I was joking about Swindon.)

    I sit in a park on the East bank of the East River directly opposite the United Nations, where this Wednesday president Mohamed Nasheed of the Maldives (one of my upcoming interviewees) will deliver a speech about the need for action on climate change. Not one of the 1190 islands that make up the Maldives is more than six feet above sea level. So as the planet warms and the seas expand the risk is that they’ll be less and less of the Maldives to see.

    Colin and I talk about his work as a neuroscientist and for the first time since I’ve known him I actually understand a lot of what he is taking about. All the research I’ve been doing for my interviews with George Church and Juan Enriquez has given me a small window into Colin’s world, and I like him even more. Colin is trying to get to the bottom of how memory works, and specifically how to cure or prevent diseases that affect our ability to recall things, notably Alzheimer’s. That makes him a hero in my world. He offers to introduce me to the head of his laboratory, René Hen, and I eagerly accept.

    NY city hero - Colin O'Carrol

    NY city hero - Colin O'Carrol

    Sunday evening and New York comes up trumps in the form of Lounge 47, a bar in Long Island I take myself to while Colin is trying (and so nearly succeeding) to get laid. I get chatting to the bar staff and clientele. Allie, who pours my pints turns, out to be a contemporary dancer and reminds me strongly of a significant ex – the same quiet intelligence and elegant poise. Caitlin (or ‘Sudsy’ as everyone seems to call her) is a sociologist. Allie’s boyfriend, Maurycy Banaszek joins us and turns out to be a charming and brilliant Viola player. The clients include Adrian, a videographer and one of the funniest men I’ve met in any city. It’s not that he cracks gags, he just talks like a good observational comic. “I still do a double take when I see Obama and I’m black, right? You know, it’s like seeing a woman cab driver. It’s not wrong, it’s just unusual”.

    ‘You should do stand-up,’ I suggest.

    ‘Too scary,’ he says.

    ‘That’s a reason to do it,’ I argue.

    Another customer Roland, a local entrepreneur, is deeply interested in the book and we have a long chat about the interplay of government and society. “Congress should review the constitution every year as their first action,” he says. “It’d keep their minds on the big picture and keep our politics fresh.” It’s not a bad idea in principle.

    This is New York, where you can walk into a regular bar and find a dancer, a musician, a stand-up in waiting and conversation enough for a month. I have a brilliant evening with a bunch of strangers. Allie, ever the diligent barwoman, makes sure my glass never runs dry. By the time I leave Lounge 47 I doubt I could even count to 47.