Thoughts on a Book Launch

Two weeks of watching Bird City out in the world

I wish I could share some new writing today—more of that will be coming, I promise—but since Bird City was published two weeks ago it’s been hard to find much calm to sit down and write. After spending the last four years working on the book in relative quiet, suddenly I’ve had to tell a lot more people about it, and attempt to do so in a concise and compelling way. Pithiness is not my forte. I’m not complaining; it’s been exhilarating, but equally exhausting. There are many things I’ve wanted to share, and in a few interviews I’ve done, I think I tried to say all of them.

The responses so far have been incredibly positive, and especially gratifying have been the reactions from those I wrote about and who trusted me to tell their stories. I feel grateful that the book has touched people in some way. A few people told me they finished it in one or two days! I’m sure there’s no greater compliment than writing a page-turner, but it has led me to some existential thoughts, namely that a project that took years to complete could be devoured that fast. The work itself, I’ve realized, is the best part.

When the book was released, my wife, Angie, and I went to Community Bookstore in Park Slope that evening, Brooklyn’s oldest operating independent bookstore. I’d spent most of the day on my computer answering emails and texts, and I wanted to see it in print, among other books. Yes, this had really happened.

Either side of Scorsese and Sally Mann. Dreams do come true.

Though she had several copies already, Angie wanted to buy one. I tried to protest, but she wouldn’t have it. At the check-out counter, she told the clerk I was the author. I would have been too embarrassed to say anything. The clerk asked if I would sign the four copies they had in the store. A feeling of pride came over me. As we spoke about the book, two people waiting in line broke into our conversation. “You wrote that?” they asked. “I’ll buy it.”

One woman asked me if I could personalize the inscription for her husband, whose 50th birthday was the following day. She had come to buy a different book for him, but he was a backyard birder and this sounded like a better present, she said.

On my way out, I told the clerk I’d be back the next day to sell more books.

This is absolutely the best part of this whole strange experience—getting to tell (and show) people why birding in New York has changed the way I see the city I love. I got to do that at the nearby Montauk Club the next night, and again a few days later at Book Club Bar in the East Village, where after my late-morning talk I led a group of thirty or so into Tompkins Square Park.

The park was crowded with sunbathers, musicians, food sellers, dog walkers, and young people drinking coffee behind sunglasses. Every bench was full. The people watching was phenomenal; we were looking for sparrows, woodpeckers, and kinglets. In a previous newsletter, I mentioned the slight embarrassment of being a city birder. Here I felt none of that. Most in the group had never gone birding or gone once or twice; they came across my event on Book Club Bar’s calendar and thought it sounded fun. Most were my age or younger. I think people are yearning to get off the internet and connect with others. Birding offers that chance, and it makes me happy to think that Bird City can serve as a guide for their curiosity.

Scenes from the first week of Bird City.

At a bar on Flatbush the night after my event at the Montauk Club, a few friends discussed my inevitable post-publication crash, I learned later. How could it not happen when you’ve invested so much of yourself into an outcome that will pass quickly? That’s not going to be me, I thought.

But then last week was quieter, and I found myself missing that excitement. I felt purposeless. I was asked what my second book was going to be about. I couldn’t think of writing anything ever again! But I took a day off and resumed normal life; I went grocery shopping, popped into a bookstore to see what other books were out, came home and took a nap, and started to feel like, yes, I know how to do this.

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More news…

• I’ve done a few interviews which I think nicely capture the book and what went into making it happen. Robert Francis interviewed me for his “Bird History” Substack, and his questions were insightful and perceptive. The enthusiasm from the CBC’s Alain Clavette for the book’s themes shone through in our radio interview. And I enjoyed a long conversation with Donna Schulman of 10,000 Birds, who as a Queens birder knows many of the people and places in the book as well as anyone. I’ll have more to share over the next month.

• This week I have three talks, and if they’re in your area, I hope you can make it out. On Wednesday night at 7:30pm, I’ll be at Taylor & Co. Books in Ditmas Park, Brooklyn, an independent bookstore with its own birdwatching club! On Thursday night at 6:30pm, I’ll be across the river at the Hoboken Library. And on Saturday at 2pm, I’ll be at the Montauk Library at the other end of Long Island.