Sometimes I think a meteor could strike the earth and wipe out mankind with the exception of my mother’s Bridge club — Roz, Bea, Bette, Rhoda, and Jackie — five Jewish octogenarians who continue to gather for lunch and Bridge on Mondays as they have for over fifty years. When I set out to learn about the women behind the matching outfits and accessories, I never expected to fall in love with them. This is the story of the ladies, their game, and most of all the ragged path that led me back to my mother.
Please come hear Bill Carter read from his new book, BOOM, BUST, BOOM A Story About Copper, The Metal That Runs the World. And join us for a drink and writer talk on:
Tuesday, October 16
Half King
505 West 23rd Street NYC
7pm
Yes, it is a requirement to be devilishly good looking as well as a damn good writer to be a client of mine. Bill writes in the tradition of Jim Harrison and Sebastian Junger. He has written about the war in Sarajevo, commercial salmon fishing in Alaska, and here about the world’s largest and most toxic copper mines — a dazzling work of reportage about the red metal.
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there needs to be a question, betsy. a question. what is your red metal?
Heavy metal is too heavy. I like soft rock myself. (pretending she asked a metal question. we do live for her questions, don’t we?)
Sounds great. Will slap on some virtual war paint and pop on the virtual spiky heels and I’m over there.
From the Day Job perspective, copper truly out-ranks gold. I have had to monitor the commodities market when large commerical projects were in development to insure we had enough $ to pay for wiring and plumbing. I’m looking forward to reading this book.
We’ve had a spate of copper thefts in and around my town these past few years, the metal’s so valuable. One downtown multi-story new building that was unfinished before the economy collapsed has been repeatedly hit by copper thieves. And in another location, some dumb fuck tried to rip out live wires and learned himself some harsh lessons about current and burns. I don’t recall if he survived.
Happy Hour at the Half King doesn’t end ’til 8 pm!
I’m there.
My timing is terrible; I was in New York only three weeks ago. Somebody shoot some video, please. Looking forward to reading the book.
Well, damn, as if the bar wasn’t set high enough already. Now we have to be devilishly good-looking, too?
Congrats to both of you!