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These days, in a time when many people have moved out to the suburbs, we just don’t have the same bond with our neighbors. We might wave as we pull into our garage; we might greet each other at the neighborhood park. But in Cobble Hill by Cecily von Ziegesar, the residents of one Brooklyn neighborhood find their lives strangely intertwined.
The story explores the lives of four families in a quirky Brooklyn neighborhood. Celebrated British novelist Roy is struggling to come up with ideas for his next novel while his wife, Wendy, keeps a secret about her job at a top magazine. Former rock star Stuart connects with flirty school nurse Peaches in an attempt to find new ways to care for his wife, Mandy, who’s suffering from an illness that doesn’t really exist. And Tupper, a designer and inventor, attempts to get through to his elusive artist wife, Elizabeth.
The backgrounds and eccentricities of the people living in this hip neighborhood seem to promise a read full of wacky urban adventures—and maybe some important lessons to be learned in the end. Unfortunately, though, there are so many characters here—and so many different lives and personalities—that it’s impossible to get to know them very well at all. In fact, it’s often hard to remember which is which.
It seems that each one could be interesting in his or her own way—but, instead, they generally come off as selfish and shallow and surprisingly dull. Elizabeth, Mandy, and Peaches are so caught up in their own wants and feelings that they don’t seem to care about—or even consider—the needs of anyone else. Roy is so caught up in his terrible Martian romance that he barely notices the changes going on all around him. And Stuart is surprisingly bland for a former rocker.
Throughout their story, these characters cross paths in random ways. They hang out at the same bar that isn’t really a bar. They share a drug dealer. They’re invited to a karaoke night that ends up being a live art installation. It’s bizarre but rather pretentious. And, in the end, it all seems to amount to not much of anything.
Somewhere lurking in these Brooklyn brownstones, there must be a fascinating story. But the characters in Cobble Hill seem to think that they’re a whole lot more interesting than they really are. And that makes for a long, surprisingly tedious read.
Listen to the review on Shelf Discovery:
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