The late artist Steinberg (1914–1999) invites the reader into his whimsical, witty interior world for a quick look-see. The brief, autobiographical vignettes—drawn from taped conversations in the mid-1970s with lifelong friend Buzzi, who edited the selections—show off the longtime New Yorker
cartoonist's writerly mind (he used to say that he was a writer who drew instead of writing). Steinberg recalls his Romanian childhood (in large part through olfactory memory), his architectural studies in Italy during Mussolini's reign, his arrest and imprisonment there, his arrival in America, his residency at the Smithsonian Institution (where his anxieties ran from finding the proper words for things to finding the proper dinner fork) and his admiration for society's outcasts, in particular skid row bums ("they prefer to beg or steal rather than do something that goes against their nature"). Divided chronologically into four parts, the book floats easily from subjects like "uncles and aunts" and "hillbillies" to "the cartoonist's profession," approximating the fleeting, tumbling quality of memory. Other topics Steinberg ponders: the American stance toward restaurants and gastronomy, the nature of reality, his artistic proclivities for water reflections and shadows, and the disadvantages of tinted bus windows ("you see a sad, crepuscular landscape, even if there is sunlight"). While Steinberg doesn't have a chance to plumb the depths of his subjects, the narrative nonetheless feels honest and amazingly complete. These organic recollections should have strong appeal, particularly among fans of the New Yorker
(where the illustrations included here first appeared). (May 21)
