Neil Serven

photo: Ourit Ben-Haim

Somehow I fear I am the last person in the world to know about the Underground New York Public Library.

I have been waiting for the Internet to get this right. It took a few tries. People Reading cracked open the idea of showing folks enjoying books in public, and included interesting follow-up inquiries to willing participants, while CoverSpy emphasized the Book Cover Bingo aspect, with unseen readers reduced to mysterious police descriptions (“F, 20s, rolled-up jean shorts, peach tank top, big blue backpack, Union Square”) with the occasional revealing act of character (“M, 50s, yellow Nike shirt, balancing Diet Coke on book, Grand Central”).

But the UNYPL catches people wholly unawares, immersed in the peaceful act of reading, while trains speed and rumble through tunnels and people bump through aisles and talk on phones and announcements blare overhead.

What makes the site a must-visit is that the photographs are simply beautiful. Ourit Ben-Haim launched UNYPL as a photography project, explaining that she is “fascinated by how we apply ourselves to stories and discourse. In so doing, we shape who we understand ourselves to be.”

Working on crowded Metro trains and platforms with a Canon (not an iPhone, so no locker-room subterfuge going on here), Ben-Haim demonstrates an impeccable ability to frame the shot (a number are taken through windows, some of the train on the next track over) and, I imagine, split-second timing. She doesn’t zoom in on her subjects, so often we see them in a grander context, their bored fellow passengers (chatting on their phones; staring into space) being the chaos from which they seek asylum.

Also impressive is the fieldwork that Ourit does to identify the title that the person is reading, even linking to the correct edition on Amazon (when possible). For titles she cannot identify, she enlists the help of the Tumblr community in a Friday post.

Ourit admits on her Common Questions page that, while perfectly legal, there is an “ethical gray area” to photographing people in public without their permission or awareness. “I’m not running amok taking photographs without any regard for my subjects,” she says. “Street Photography is a complex art form with its own subtle language of communication. I listen to cues when I see them and I present my subjects respectfully.” The splendor of the subject’s faces seems to affirm that objective.

In the age of eReaders, the game of Cover Spying threatens to become stripped of its serendipity and mischief (Ourit includes a Friday eReader photo as a wry acknowledgment of this), and that is probably why the UNYPL has acquired a loyal following. It completes the act of people watching to which we all subscribe when we find ourselves idle, wishing we in a story somewhere.

The mosquitoes showed up before dusk fell, drawn to our sugar drinks and our sweat, and the next-door neighbor’s underground pool. The party lights were turned on: cylinders of red, white, orange, yellow and green set up to dangle from the clothesline. We ate cookies and ice cream and I sipped from another heavy soda. Butchie said the bonfire was definitely going to happen, a friend of his came by and said so. Sometimes you heard rumors about stuff that like happening but the cops would break it up before it ever got off the ground. But this time it was real.

At Fictionaut, my story “A Spark and a Flash,” posted a year ago. A sort of fiction/memoir hybrid that I wrote to try to capture the mythic and dangerous elements of childhood. In real life I don’t have a sister, but I do remember begging my mother to go see the bonfire, and panicking when I saw the flames reflected in the windows of a house nearby.

My YouTube debut (at least that I’m aware of):

Reading at the KGB Bar in Manhattan, 6/23/12.

Last night I gave my first live reading ever, in a crowded room at the KGB Bar in Manhattan as part of the first-ever Fictionaut summer bash. It was a thrill to meet a number of people I had previously known only through their tiny avatars and their postings on Fictionaut and Facebook. For the open mic I decided to read an excerpt from a short story in progress titled (for now) “Shock of the World.” I chose it because I felt it had an interesting first-person voice and semi-satisfying ending, and even though I blurred through some of the words by reading too fast, it seemed to go over well.

I was more nervous heading into the event than I probably should have been, but when the announcement for the event came out, I felt it was something I had to do. It turned out I only had three minutes to get my reading in, as the KGB owners are rather strict about cutting off the microphone at 9:00 PM and there were a lot of people who signed up to read. The hostess who organized the event, Susan Tepper, deserves credit for keeping things moving so that we just got everyone in under the wire.

Fictionaut has had a major impact on my growth as a writer, not only in terms of confidence, but motivation. It is easier to jump back into the process of writing knowing that past attempts have been met with careful, considered feedback (even when negative), and that with them comes the natural expectation that you continue to work at your craft. I tend to abandon it when I am working on larger stories, then wade back into it when I am stuck or feel I need to re-train myself on some fundamental aspect of writing that may have loosened itself from the mooring.

And then, today, before we left the city, H. & I stopped at the Strand. The last thing I needed was an opportunity to add to my pile of unread books, but here’s a list of what I picked up:

A Moveable Feast, restored edition

The Enthusiast, Charlie Haas

Stories for Nighttime and Some for the Day, Ben Loory

One More Year, Sana Krasikov

The Groucho Letters, Groucho Marx (used edition from 1967, second printing)

Haas and Krasikov had been on my Wish List for a while. It just so happened that Ben Loory had been sitting next to me for most of the evening, and I only chatted with him for a minute or so. His name was familiar to me, but I assumed that was only through Fictionaut (the influx of members lately has made it harder to remember who wrote what). I had enjoyed the selection (another work in progress) that he read at KGB, and told him as much, and then lo and behold I’m scanning the Ls at the Strand today and there’s his book. Ever so humble! He’s been published in The New Yorker and everything. It turned out he had journeyed all the way from Los Angeles for the party. Knowing this, I now wish I had talked to him more, but that applies to just about everyone who was there.