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Arbitrary Stupid Goal
One of The New Yorker 's "Books We Loved in 2017"
“ Arbitrary Stupid Goal is a completely riveting world ―when I looked up from its pages regular life seemed boring and safe and modern like one big iPhone. This book captures not just a lost New York but a whole lost way of life.” ―Miranda July
In Arbitrary Stupid Goal , Tamara Shopsin takes the reader on a pointillist time-travel trip to the Greenwich Village of her bohemian 1970s childhood, a funky, tight-knit small town in the big city, long before Sex and the City tours and luxury condos. The center of Tamara’s universe is Shopsin’s, her family’s legendary greasy spoon, aka “The Store,” run by her inimitable dad, Kenny―a loquacious, contrary, huge-hearted man who, aside from dishing up New York’s best egg salad on rye, is Village sheriff, philosopher, and fixer all at once. All comers find a place at Shopsin’s table and feast on Kenny’s tall tales and trenchant advice along with the incomparable chili con carne.
Filled with clever illustrations and witty, nostalgic photographs and graphics, and told in a sly, elliptical narrative that is both hilarious and endearing, Arbitrary Stupid Goal is an offbeat memory-book mosaic about the secrets of living an unconventional life, which is becoming a forgotten art.
“ Arbitrary Stupid Goal is a completely riveting world ―when I looked up from its pages regular life seemed boring and safe and modern like one big iPhone. This book captures not just a lost New York but a whole lost way of life.” ―Miranda July
In Arbitrary Stupid Goal , Tamara Shopsin takes the reader on a pointillist time-travel trip to the Greenwich Village of her bohemian 1970s childhood, a funky, tight-knit small town in the big city, long before Sex and the City tours and luxury condos. The center of Tamara’s universe is Shopsin’s, her family’s legendary greasy spoon, aka “The Store,” run by her inimitable dad, Kenny―a loquacious, contrary, huge-hearted man who, aside from dishing up New York’s best egg salad on rye, is Village sheriff, philosopher, and fixer all at once. All comers find a place at Shopsin’s table and feast on Kenny’s tall tales and trenchant advice along with the incomparable chili con carne.
Filled with clever illustrations and witty, nostalgic photographs and graphics, and told in a sly, elliptical narrative that is both hilarious and endearing, Arbitrary Stupid Goal is an offbeat memory-book mosaic about the secrets of living an unconventional life, which is becoming a forgotten art.
336 pages, Hardcover
First published July 18, 2017
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6077 people want to read
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Displaying 1 - 30 of 404 reviews
October 1, 2018
this book is, with no exaggeration, one of the best things i have ever read.
i read this book because i love kenny shopsin and this is written by his daughter, who also loves him. kenny shopsin is something of a legend: a take-no-shit new yorker with the pottiest of mouths and a crazy-ass restaurant where every item is imagination run wild and you’d better know the rules. i love his attitude and his creativity and that his cookbook is both hilarious and functional, and even though i have only managed to get to his restaurant once, it was everything i had hoped it would be and i NEED to go back.
so, i grabbed this book, hoping it would have some funny kenny shopsin anecdotes, the way i like to see lawrence durrell pop up in books by his brother gerald, who lovingly takes him down a peg. but this book, while it more than delivers what i wanted it to in terms of those anecdotes and the shopsin philosophy, proves that the apple doesn’t fall far from the tree, and tamara shopsin is as magnificent a personality as her dad, and a phenomenal writer to boot.
it is wonderfully unexpected in scope and free in form, and very very fast to read. on most of the pages, the text does not go all the way to the bottom, and there are drawings and photographs throughout, but this does not feel at all like padding to extend the length of the book - it suits her style of storytelling perfectly. these are recollections, snippets of family lore, stories about the characters she knew growing up in the village in the 80’s and beyond alongside tales of her travels as an adult with her photographer boyfriend as they travel to various locations on assignment, and the two storytelling tracks are full of touchpoints and connections that are sheer perfection.
this book is too nice an object for me to want to fold over its pages whenever i came across something i wanted to call out in the review, so i just slipped little pieces of paper in each page, and by the end, the book was basically all bookmarks. so, to save me the time of typing out the entire book here, you all need to go out and read this to learn all about the role of chewing gum in marital disputes, gumball machine obsessions, why you should order soda at restaurants you love, crossword puzzles, instructions for making an origami penis, etc etc etc.
it is spectacular, and i don’t think you already have to have a love of the shopsin name to appreciate it, but it definitely helps if you have an affection for the new york of bygone days.
People looked out for each other even if it was a pain in the ass. This might have been because the Village was more dangerous and hardscrabble, because people lived there longer, were in more need, or just talked to each other more.
it will make you envy “her” new york and her unconventional upbringing and whatever combination of things made her mind work the way it does and sustained her wide-eyed appreciation of the world, taking it all in without judgment or horror, even as she sees new york change again and again. she mentions how the city has changed in very matter-of-fact terms that aren’t bitter or given any emotional weight, but the contrast in her descriptions says it all - the neighborhood feel is gone. it’s never angry - it’s an observation with a shrug, which is the shopsin philosophy in a nutshell.
it’s also a perfect circle - the story that serves as the introduction to the book is revealed to be something completely unexpected on the final page, which i will not ruin, but this is another hallmark of her style - the callback-as-reveal. she will mention someone in passing - as a bit player in the story of a more central individual, and then maybe 50 pages later, casually reveal that that bit player was charlie parker. and she does this frequently, tying her threads together so well - she uses earlier anecdotes about a neat freak tenant or a man’s low sperm count to illustrate the changing new york, and with one sentence invoking the incidents, gets her point across so perfectly, so poetically. it’s a skill that would make a novelist envious, but in a memoir, it’s even better - evidence of a remarkable mind observing and relaying her world in candid, accessible terms that make you yearn to befriend her. i mean, i want to hang out with her, and i’m scared of twins, so that should tell you something.
every page is a gift.
and the title? that refers to a little nugget of shopsin philosophy that spoke to my very soul. the arbitrary stupid goal, or ASG is:
A goal that isn’t too important makes you live in the moment, and still gives you a driving force. This driving force is a way to get around the fact that we will all die and there is no real point to life.
But with the ASG there is a point. It is not such an important point that you postpone joy to achieve it. It is just a decoy point that keeps you bobbing along, allowing you to find ecstasy in the small things, the unexpected, and the everyday.
What happens when you reach the stupid goal? Then what? You just find a new ASG.
all the monthly projects i do on here, all the little distractions i pursue that provide me with a silly little sense of accomplishment in a life where i don’t have the money or career or success that i should, they are what keep me invested and engaged while i flounder and hope that something will come along and give me a greater sense of purpose. and now i have a name for it.
i love this book so damn much. i would have maybe liked a little more food-based tales, but i can always read the cookbook for that (Eat Me: The Food and Philosophy of Kenny Shopsin), or watch the shopsin documentary again. i want her to never stop writing.
this book - read it read it read it.
***********************************
PLEASE ADOPT ME, SHOPSINS!
review to come, but MAN, do i love this book
come to my blog!
i read this book because i love kenny shopsin and this is written by his daughter, who also loves him. kenny shopsin is something of a legend: a take-no-shit new yorker with the pottiest of mouths and a crazy-ass restaurant where every item is imagination run wild and you’d better know the rules. i love his attitude and his creativity and that his cookbook is both hilarious and functional, and even though i have only managed to get to his restaurant once, it was everything i had hoped it would be and i NEED to go back.
so, i grabbed this book, hoping it would have some funny kenny shopsin anecdotes, the way i like to see lawrence durrell pop up in books by his brother gerald, who lovingly takes him down a peg. but this book, while it more than delivers what i wanted it to in terms of those anecdotes and the shopsin philosophy, proves that the apple doesn’t fall far from the tree, and tamara shopsin is as magnificent a personality as her dad, and a phenomenal writer to boot.
it is wonderfully unexpected in scope and free in form, and very very fast to read. on most of the pages, the text does not go all the way to the bottom, and there are drawings and photographs throughout, but this does not feel at all like padding to extend the length of the book - it suits her style of storytelling perfectly. these are recollections, snippets of family lore, stories about the characters she knew growing up in the village in the 80’s and beyond alongside tales of her travels as an adult with her photographer boyfriend as they travel to various locations on assignment, and the two storytelling tracks are full of touchpoints and connections that are sheer perfection.
this book is too nice an object for me to want to fold over its pages whenever i came across something i wanted to call out in the review, so i just slipped little pieces of paper in each page, and by the end, the book was basically all bookmarks. so, to save me the time of typing out the entire book here, you all need to go out and read this to learn all about the role of chewing gum in marital disputes, gumball machine obsessions, why you should order soda at restaurants you love, crossword puzzles, instructions for making an origami penis, etc etc etc.
it is spectacular, and i don’t think you already have to have a love of the shopsin name to appreciate it, but it definitely helps if you have an affection for the new york of bygone days.
People looked out for each other even if it was a pain in the ass. This might have been because the Village was more dangerous and hardscrabble, because people lived there longer, were in more need, or just talked to each other more.
it will make you envy “her” new york and her unconventional upbringing and whatever combination of things made her mind work the way it does and sustained her wide-eyed appreciation of the world, taking it all in without judgment or horror, even as she sees new york change again and again. she mentions how the city has changed in very matter-of-fact terms that aren’t bitter or given any emotional weight, but the contrast in her descriptions says it all - the neighborhood feel is gone. it’s never angry - it’s an observation with a shrug, which is the shopsin philosophy in a nutshell.
it’s also a perfect circle - the story that serves as the introduction to the book is revealed to be something completely unexpected on the final page, which i will not ruin, but this is another hallmark of her style - the callback-as-reveal. she will mention someone in passing - as a bit player in the story of a more central individual, and then maybe 50 pages later, casually reveal that that bit player was charlie parker. and she does this frequently, tying her threads together so well - she uses earlier anecdotes about a neat freak tenant or a man’s low sperm count to illustrate the changing new york, and with one sentence invoking the incidents, gets her point across so perfectly, so poetically. it’s a skill that would make a novelist envious, but in a memoir, it’s even better - evidence of a remarkable mind observing and relaying her world in candid, accessible terms that make you yearn to befriend her. i mean, i want to hang out with her, and i’m scared of twins, so that should tell you something.
every page is a gift.
and the title? that refers to a little nugget of shopsin philosophy that spoke to my very soul. the arbitrary stupid goal, or ASG is:
A goal that isn’t too important makes you live in the moment, and still gives you a driving force. This driving force is a way to get around the fact that we will all die and there is no real point to life.
But with the ASG there is a point. It is not such an important point that you postpone joy to achieve it. It is just a decoy point that keeps you bobbing along, allowing you to find ecstasy in the small things, the unexpected, and the everyday.
What happens when you reach the stupid goal? Then what? You just find a new ASG.
all the monthly projects i do on here, all the little distractions i pursue that provide me with a silly little sense of accomplishment in a life where i don’t have the money or career or success that i should, they are what keep me invested and engaged while i flounder and hope that something will come along and give me a greater sense of purpose. and now i have a name for it.
i love this book so damn much. i would have maybe liked a little more food-based tales, but i can always read the cookbook for that (Eat Me: The Food and Philosophy of Kenny Shopsin), or watch the shopsin documentary again. i want her to never stop writing.
this book - read it read it read it.
***********************************
PLEASE ADOPT ME, SHOPSINS!
review to come, but MAN, do i love this book
come to my blog!
September 5, 2017
I bought this book after reading an excerpt online somewhere and absolutely loved it. It is an intimate, strange, meandering portrait of the New York City that keeps New Yorkers living in New York. It's also a portrait of a family and their store/restaurant. It's a series of loosely connected character studies. It is the history of a neighborhood and a street. It is a daughter's love for her father, for the city she grew up in, for the strange ways everything is connected. Absolutely worth your time.
April 1, 2017
Despite the title/cover, this is in no way an angry or cynical book. It's a love song to New York and to the author's family and to their family business. And it's the type of memoir that you want to live in: that time, that place, those people.
September 22, 2025
A few years back, I lost my first high school buddy.
Kind of a shock. I mean, we weren’t even fifty. And man, he was such a character. Total bull-in-a-china-shop, and all kinds of other bull. In other words, a figure crying out for a memoir.
My only trouble: we were only peripherally acquainted during his last thirty years. Sure, I could recall his rambunctious youth, but adulthood? Bits and pieces at best. Even less understanding.
I finally figured, don’t fake it. It can’t be a full biography. Stick to what you know.
I did. And then scrambled the chronology. We pop in and out of his life. High school. Adult visits. Random phone calls. The piece came in around 8,000 words. Still unpublished, but I love it. You don’t have to know the guy. The fragments paint a portrait. (There's a video on my GR author page; "How Admiral Bahjat Defeated the Soviet Navy.")
Then, last year, I actually got hired to write a memoir. And my client didn’t want an autobiography; he just had a bunch of killer stories. I told him I’d craft each one as a free-standing short story. And scramble the timeline, jumping willy-nilly about his life. And so I did. And we were both thrilled.
Which is a looooong-ass preface as to why I love Tamara Shopsin’s book so much.
I picked it up thinking it was fiction. It’s not. It’s a self-portrait of the author, her family, their business, their friends, neighbors, and customers.
And Ms. Shopsin doesn’t even bother with my short story approach. She understands all you need are indelible fragments, and she’s got ‘em. Observations, moments, jokes, and asides that add up to the most wonderful NYC time warp you can imagine.
Now, if any future client doubts my instincts, I’ve got this stellar example I can cite.
Do YOU have life stories you've always dreamed of seeing in print? Hit me up. I'm ready to rumble!
Kind of a shock. I mean, we weren’t even fifty. And man, he was such a character. Total bull-in-a-china-shop, and all kinds of other bull. In other words, a figure crying out for a memoir.
My only trouble: we were only peripherally acquainted during his last thirty years. Sure, I could recall his rambunctious youth, but adulthood? Bits and pieces at best. Even less understanding.
I finally figured, don’t fake it. It can’t be a full biography. Stick to what you know.
I did. And then scrambled the chronology. We pop in and out of his life. High school. Adult visits. Random phone calls. The piece came in around 8,000 words. Still unpublished, but I love it. You don’t have to know the guy. The fragments paint a portrait. (There's a video on my GR author page; "How Admiral Bahjat Defeated the Soviet Navy.")
Then, last year, I actually got hired to write a memoir. And my client didn’t want an autobiography; he just had a bunch of killer stories. I told him I’d craft each one as a free-standing short story. And scramble the timeline, jumping willy-nilly about his life. And so I did. And we were both thrilled.
Which is a looooong-ass preface as to why I love Tamara Shopsin’s book so much.
I picked it up thinking it was fiction. It’s not. It’s a self-portrait of the author, her family, their business, their friends, neighbors, and customers.
And Ms. Shopsin doesn’t even bother with my short story approach. She understands all you need are indelible fragments, and she’s got ‘em. Observations, moments, jokes, and asides that add up to the most wonderful NYC time warp you can imagine.
Now, if any future client doubts my instincts, I’ve got this stellar example I can cite.
Do YOU have life stories you've always dreamed of seeing in print? Hit me up. I'm ready to rumble!
July 13, 2018
I went back and forth on this one. It's kind of cool to get the insider's look at what was apparently a landmark establishment, but a lot of this seemed like boring filler at times. I went from liking it to being ready to be done with it a number of times, but I ended up with a marginally favorable impression. The style is quirky but it's a quick read so knock yourself out if you're curious.
December 13, 2018
The lesson I learned from this book is that my Goodreads challenge is my Arbitrary Stupid Goal.
November 16, 2020
Somewhere between 3-3.5
A memoir of sorts about Shopsin's father's well-known shop/diner and her father's close friend Willy, the book more widely focuses on New York and more specifically Greenwich Village in the 1970s and 80s and is interspersed with photographs and illustrations by Tamara herself.
This will probably be more enjoyable for New Yorkers and I'm not quite sure who I'd recommend it to; it's the kind of book you need to be in the right mood for, and I did float between enjoying it and thinking that this would only really resonate with those that either knew Kenny Shopsin or went to the diner, but ultimately I found it to be a light and diverting read and don't regret the time I spent with it.
A memoir of sorts about Shopsin's father's well-known shop/diner and her father's close friend Willy, the book more widely focuses on New York and more specifically Greenwich Village in the 1970s and 80s and is interspersed with photographs and illustrations by Tamara herself.
This will probably be more enjoyable for New Yorkers and I'm not quite sure who I'd recommend it to; it's the kind of book you need to be in the right mood for, and I did float between enjoying it and thinking that this would only really resonate with those that either knew Kenny Shopsin or went to the diner, but ultimately I found it to be a light and diverting read and don't regret the time I spent with it.
August 10, 2017
5+
A magnificent kind of memoir - elliptic, funny, poignant, with a kind of recursive logic that makes more sense the further along you read. It's the story of a restaurant, of an ideology, of a man who was so many wonderful things and plenty of flawed ones too, of a city and a time and a way of life that maybe doesn't exist anymore but it's the thing that keeps the weirdos and the passionate and the hungry coming to New York year after year.
If you live in NYC, read this. If you've always wanted to live in NYC, read this. If you once lived in NYC, read this. If you can't imagine what would possess someone to live in NYC, read this.
A magnificent kind of memoir - elliptic, funny, poignant, with a kind of recursive logic that makes more sense the further along you read. It's the story of a restaurant, of an ideology, of a man who was so many wonderful things and plenty of flawed ones too, of a city and a time and a way of life that maybe doesn't exist anymore but it's the thing that keeps the weirdos and the passionate and the hungry coming to New York year after year.
If you live in NYC, read this. If you've always wanted to live in NYC, read this. If you once lived in NYC, read this. If you can't imagine what would possess someone to live in NYC, read this.
February 7, 2022
I never got to eat at Shopsin's, the notorious West Village hole-in-the-wall just as famous for its quixotic, foul-mouthed chef and owner as for its wildly imaginative food and phonebook-sized menu. I was still a tiny baby New Yorker when we lived in Manhattan and not nearly as intrepid as I've come to be, and the Village was all the way across town. One of my roommates was enough of a foodie that we were aware of Shopsin's, which was its own kind of feat in those internet-nascent days of the early 2000s, and we did actually try to go a couple of times. But it was full, or it was closed, or it had moved and we weren't sure where the new location even was.
The New Yorker I've become really regrets this, but on the other hand, what makes places like this such glistening prizes is how they reward the zeal of adventure it takes to make it to the mysterious place at the foretold time, dispatching urban transit obstacles and the franticness of any given day. So this one was not for me, but they can't all be for everyone or that would negate the whole point. And getting to read about Shopsin's through Tamara's barrage of odd little snippets was a delight all to itself, and very worth the cost of admission (half-price, at a used bookstore in an art gallery in the Downtown LA Arts District).
If you're coming to this book to learn all about Shopsin's, you will likely be disappointed, as there's really only a dozen pages actually about the restaurant and its dishes and its chaos and madness. But if you want to read about a bygone New York moment, or Kenny Shopsin himself, or all the odd and wonderful Village denizens Tamara grew up with — the kind of tumultuous snapshot of a pastiche of weirdos living too close together that make up the life of every urbanite anywhere — then come on in, the water's weird.
Tamara's writing style is extremely weird as well. This is less a book, in the chapters-and-paragraphs sense, and more like a freeform menu of someone's mind. Even the formatting is bizarre; each page contains a series of snippet-y sentences, one or two to a line, mostly not making it all the way down the page. There are a few "chapters," but they feel like very arbitrary section breaks in Tamara's stream of consciousness. She mostly tells lots of stories about her dad and her mom and their friends and enemies in the neighborhood, but then sometimes she digresses into the history of the crossword puzzle or a trip she took with her husband to one of Hitler's bunkers or what's in the basement at the Library of the Performing Arts.
I know I said it's like a menu but maybe it's more like scat singing? Doo be doobie rat tat tatt: somewhere in the city is a statue based on a drawing by James Thurber; Jim Belushi used to have a key to the Shopsins' store before it was a restaurant, and when his wife kicked him out he would come sleep in there with a roll of toilet paper for a pillow; Kenny Shopsin used to obsessively collect old gumball machines; some of Shopsin's most famous dishes were Thai Steak Salad with noodles cooked in a griddle and Kids' Chocolate Chip Pancakes stuck on sticks like lollipops. Be bop doodly diddly doo. One time her dad threw her mom's mattress out of their loft and her mom stuck her chewing gum in his armpit; her mom didn't speak to anyone in her family so when Tamara had to make a family tree for school, she told her to make it all up, so she gave herself a British aunt named Gumby; she used to go with her dad to buy wine for the restaurant because the wine store was decorated with hundreds of bunches of plastic grapes, which she stole one by one until her whole childhood bedroom was covered with bunches of plastic grapes. Boppity doo wop dee.
Anyway. Tamara's family — both her actual blood relatives and the wild constellation of chosen folks they surrounded themselves with — is as bizarre and beautiful as they come, and learning about them through the convoluted and seemingly unedited fritzes of her strange brain is a sheer delight.
The New Yorker I've become really regrets this, but on the other hand, what makes places like this such glistening prizes is how they reward the zeal of adventure it takes to make it to the mysterious place at the foretold time, dispatching urban transit obstacles and the franticness of any given day. So this one was not for me, but they can't all be for everyone or that would negate the whole point. And getting to read about Shopsin's through Tamara's barrage of odd little snippets was a delight all to itself, and very worth the cost of admission (half-price, at a used bookstore in an art gallery in the Downtown LA Arts District).
If you're coming to this book to learn all about Shopsin's, you will likely be disappointed, as there's really only a dozen pages actually about the restaurant and its dishes and its chaos and madness. But if you want to read about a bygone New York moment, or Kenny Shopsin himself, or all the odd and wonderful Village denizens Tamara grew up with — the kind of tumultuous snapshot of a pastiche of weirdos living too close together that make up the life of every urbanite anywhere — then come on in, the water's weird.
Tamara's writing style is extremely weird as well. This is less a book, in the chapters-and-paragraphs sense, and more like a freeform menu of someone's mind. Even the formatting is bizarre; each page contains a series of snippet-y sentences, one or two to a line, mostly not making it all the way down the page. There are a few "chapters," but they feel like very arbitrary section breaks in Tamara's stream of consciousness. She mostly tells lots of stories about her dad and her mom and their friends and enemies in the neighborhood, but then sometimes she digresses into the history of the crossword puzzle or a trip she took with her husband to one of Hitler's bunkers or what's in the basement at the Library of the Performing Arts.
I know I said it's like a menu but maybe it's more like scat singing? Doo be doobie rat tat tatt: somewhere in the city is a statue based on a drawing by James Thurber; Jim Belushi used to have a key to the Shopsins' store before it was a restaurant, and when his wife kicked him out he would come sleep in there with a roll of toilet paper for a pillow; Kenny Shopsin used to obsessively collect old gumball machines; some of Shopsin's most famous dishes were Thai Steak Salad with noodles cooked in a griddle and Kids' Chocolate Chip Pancakes stuck on sticks like lollipops. Be bop doodly diddly doo. One time her dad threw her mom's mattress out of their loft and her mom stuck her chewing gum in his armpit; her mom didn't speak to anyone in her family so when Tamara had to make a family tree for school, she told her to make it all up, so she gave herself a British aunt named Gumby; she used to go with her dad to buy wine for the restaurant because the wine store was decorated with hundreds of bunches of plastic grapes, which she stole one by one until her whole childhood bedroom was covered with bunches of plastic grapes. Boppity doo wop dee.
Anyway. Tamara's family — both her actual blood relatives and the wild constellation of chosen folks they surrounded themselves with — is as bizarre and beautiful as they come, and learning about them through the convoluted and seemingly unedited fritzes of her strange brain is a sheer delight.
August 11, 2025
“A goal that isn't too important makes you live in the moment, and still gives you a driving force. This driving force is a way to get around the fact that we will all die and there is no real point to life.
But with the ASG there is a point. It is not such an important point that you postpone joy to achieve it. It is just a decoy point that keeps you bobbing along, allowing you to find ecstasy in the small things, the unexpected, and the everyday.”
Ti gave me this book and I agree completely with his view: “ I want to visit her New York”.
Nostalgia for a place I’ve never been to.
Read
November 29, 2025This is a very cool, strange, episodic, entertaining memoir written by a woman whose family ran a restaurant in Greenwich Village beginning in the 1970s. It's the platonic ideal of a certain vision of New York City: wild, diverse, populated with eccentrics, kids running loose in the streets, the rough elements countered by everyone looking out for each other. Shopsin doesn't spare some of the less flattering details. There are robbers and child predators, and her Dad's behavior at the restaurant would probably not be tolerated in the world of million dollar condos. Still, it comes across as a good place where people are free to live as they want and deviance isn't legislated or disapproved away.
The book also has some fairly random asides. One that made an impression is where Shopsin and her boyfriend visit a crazy Nazi bunker in Poland that is operating as a tourist attraction with a military-themed cafe and literal jackbooted guards. Shopsin reflects that this place will likely be shut down or changed before too long due to its blatant offensiveness. She writes:
It's an odd and probably inappropriate metaphor, but for me that's the theme running throughout this book: the impulse to let chaos reign, not paper over the bad stuff, and let people respond to life in their own way.
The book also has some fairly random asides. One that made an impression is where Shopsin and her boyfriend visit a crazy Nazi bunker in Poland that is operating as a tourist attraction with a military-themed cafe and literal jackbooted guards. Shopsin reflects that this place will likely be shut down or changed before too long due to its blatant offensiveness. She writes:
But right now, amid the tactlessness, insensitivity, and genuine confusion of how to present such a place, Wolf's Lair spurs more thoughts and emotions than a respectful plaque with fact-checked details could.
It's an odd and probably inappropriate metaphor, but for me that's the theme running throughout this book: the impulse to let chaos reign, not paper over the bad stuff, and let people respond to life in their own way.
December 28, 2017
This book made me nostalgic for a 1970s NYC upbringing I never actually had.
July 21, 2017
I just love this book so much. It is such a perfect mix of stream of conscious writing, NYC history, memoir, and celebrity cameo. Plus, she is hilarious!
The further I read, the more I felt like Tamara is my friend. The realization that she is not my friend, and that I don't even know her as an acquaintance, makes me sad. I want more of her writing, and I want her to be my friend. I've already recommended this to one reader and will continue to recommend it to many, many more.
The further I read, the more I felt like Tamara is my friend. The realization that she is not my friend, and that I don't even know her as an acquaintance, makes me sad. I want more of her writing, and I want her to be my friend. I've already recommended this to one reader and will continue to recommend it to many, many more.
August 24, 2017
I didn't like this very much, the writing was good and some parts were OK, but it was just too disjointed, a bunch of little stories about neighbors and customers it was hard to identify with any of them. I finished it because it was so short but if it was any longer I'd have dropped it.
September 2, 2019
This book feels like you’re sitting on a stoop with an old friend, recounting stories of the neighborhood and your family. It’s surprisingly lovely without trying too hard.
July 18, 2019
Quirky, real, sentimental, crass, and set in a magical New York City that I like to think was also my New York even though it wasn’t. I don’t think I can say enough times how much I loved this surprising book. I don’t even like memoirs.
July 27, 2025
Got this during a book club White Elephant (shoutout to Taylor for this pick!)
Genuinely enjoyed this, a good reminder of the importance of community and to not be afraid to not be liked by everyone
Genuinely enjoyed this, a good reminder of the importance of community and to not be afraid to not be liked by everyone
August 17, 2017
A hard book to put down. Each page is a bite size narrative that is so well written and often profound, that you just want to take another page in, and then after that, another, and so forth. Tamara Shopsin, besides being a wonderful prose artist, is also an illustrator and designer. Some of the text is only a few paragraphs long on a page, to full page - but this is an epic history of her family, their friends, and the main star of the book, New York City, specifically Greenwich Village.
Every page is a reflection of the classic New York landscape. One that I often imagined in fiction, films, and music. Reading this memoir, I have The Lovin' Spoonful as a soundtrack in my brain. No mention of the band within its pages, but that is what I bring to the text as a reader. The Shopsin family are well-known in the Village and beyond, due that they had a food market, which turned into a legendary diner. I've been there twice, and the food was incredible, but beyond that one goes there for the spectacle; the theater that comes with the restaurant. I can't think of another diner that is so enjoyable, as well as entertaining. The chances of being insulted by the owner (the author's father) are in the 70% bracket. Of course, it's worth taking a chance, because it's an amazing show. And again the food is great.
Tamara Shopsin's book captures the flavor of her family which in turn means classic New York City. Every page has a wisdom or philosophy either made by Tamara, or by the mom Eve, or dad Kenny. This is the book to have when one is feeling down or depressed. The life that comes off these pages is rich, brilliant, and hysterical. The sad thing is Manhattan has changed into a huge shopping mall mentality. Shopsin captures the moments why one would want to visit NYC in the first place, as well as a focused snapshot of life being lived at its intense pleasure.
Every page is a reflection of the classic New York landscape. One that I often imagined in fiction, films, and music. Reading this memoir, I have The Lovin' Spoonful as a soundtrack in my brain. No mention of the band within its pages, but that is what I bring to the text as a reader. The Shopsin family are well-known in the Village and beyond, due that they had a food market, which turned into a legendary diner. I've been there twice, and the food was incredible, but beyond that one goes there for the spectacle; the theater that comes with the restaurant. I can't think of another diner that is so enjoyable, as well as entertaining. The chances of being insulted by the owner (the author's father) are in the 70% bracket. Of course, it's worth taking a chance, because it's an amazing show. And again the food is great.
Tamara Shopsin's book captures the flavor of her family which in turn means classic New York City. Every page has a wisdom or philosophy either made by Tamara, or by the mom Eve, or dad Kenny. This is the book to have when one is feeling down or depressed. The life that comes off these pages is rich, brilliant, and hysterical. The sad thing is Manhattan has changed into a huge shopping mall mentality. Shopsin captures the moments why one would want to visit NYC in the first place, as well as a focused snapshot of life being lived at its intense pleasure.
February 1, 2018
A goal that isn't too important makes you live in the moment, and still gives you a driving force. This driving force is a way to get around the fact that we will all die and there is no real point to life.
... What happens when you reach the stupid goal? Then what? You just find a new Arbitrary Stupd Goal.
Sometimes when I'm going about my day, I have an interesting thought, maybe something I want to tell somebody else, or something I need to buy, and I jot it down in my phone. Maybe I use Notepad or maybe I put it in an email. I have one note that is a jumble of miscellaneous thoughts and ideas and quotes from songs, all pressed up cheek by jowl against each other. That's what this book is like. It's pretty random, it's kind of choppy, it's a neat idea, sometimes it's interesting. But most of the time ... I was just kind of tired of her writing style.
I don't live in NYC and I'd never heard of Shopsin's so maybe I just wasn't the right audience.
This is Tamara Shopsin's love letter to Tamara Shopsin's childhood, and I wasn't there, it's not a letter for me. (And I suspect things weren't as wonderful as she wants to remember, anyway. But maybe that's the point.)
August 2, 2017
Kenny told me HE only gave it 4 stars. But, he says, Amazon scotched the review. Yes, he used the word "scotched." He also said of the book, "She got all of the symptoms but not the substance." Don't tell him I posted this. He hates publicity of any kind.
I don't know how this book would read to someone not already familiar with the principals. I was reminded of things I had long forgotten. I'm going to read her previous book when I get the chance. That's an arbitrary, perhaps stupid goal of mine. The concept of pursuing for the sake of the joy of pursuing was first enunciated by the Unabomber in his manifesto. He was afraid that technology would make goals too easy to reach. He didn't understand that goals could be arbitrary or stupid.
Last time I was at Shopsins, I ordered a Jewboy sandwich. Not remembering there was a rule against it, my wife asked what was in it. The rule must have expired because Kenny told her. I'm not going to tell you, though. I try and avoid spoilers in my reviews. It was delicious!
I don't know how this book would read to someone not already familiar with the principals. I was reminded of things I had long forgotten. I'm going to read her previous book when I get the chance. That's an arbitrary, perhaps stupid goal of mine. The concept of pursuing for the sake of the joy of pursuing was first enunciated by the Unabomber in his manifesto. He was afraid that technology would make goals too easy to reach. He didn't understand that goals could be arbitrary or stupid.
Last time I was at Shopsins, I ordered a Jewboy sandwich. Not remembering there was a rule against it, my wife asked what was in it. The rule must have expired because Kenny told her. I'm not going to tell you, though. I try and avoid spoilers in my reviews. It was delicious!
August 25, 2017
I LIKED this book - it is fun, quirky and fascinating insight for those of us (especially GenX-ers) who love New York but don't know New York. That being said, I do not understand the 4 and 5 star ratings.
January 15, 2023
feeling nostalgic for a store i've never been into and people i've never met 🥺
August 11, 2025
Two stars is a glowing assessment. Shopsin managed to hit three of my least favorite genres and still wrote something tolerable. Well! Done!
I hate:
Books about New York where the author has to tell you their specific location in every paragraph.
Books by white people about people of color who are more interesting than themselves.
Memoir as Radiolab episode where the author needs to introduce a quirky biographical figure every so often amidst the navel-gazing and vocal fry.
But amongst all this, Shopsin manages to write a decent and mercifully short memoir about how her parents ran a hippie store and restaurant in Greenwich Village, and her dad's friend, an African American building superintendent/hustler/playboy/like a grandpa to her whom she cared for when he was older. He's the beginning of the book and there are memories interspersed with interludes, like a few trips that Shopsin and her photographer husband have taken and a woman who revolutionized telegraphy. It's a miracle that this book is readable. Shopsin might still work in a family restaurant, based on one interlude. Mainly, her parents ran a homey restaurant where bums and celebrities rubbed shoulders. It's like the Homesick Restaurant with an extensive menu. This book was functionally adequate.
Her father believes that one should have an arbitrary stupid goal, something to vaguely aim for while following the side paths. He made up a story about a family named Wolfowitz who took a summer vacation visiting every place they could that had "wolf" in the name, but Shopsin didn't find out the story wasn't real for decades.
I hate:
Books about New York where the author has to tell you their specific location in every paragraph.
Books by white people about people of color who are more interesting than themselves.
Memoir as Radiolab episode where the author needs to introduce a quirky biographical figure every so often amidst the navel-gazing and vocal fry.
But amongst all this, Shopsin manages to write a decent and mercifully short memoir about how her parents ran a hippie store and restaurant in Greenwich Village, and her dad's friend, an African American building superintendent/hustler/playboy/like a grandpa to her whom she cared for when he was older. He's the beginning of the book and there are memories interspersed with interludes, like a few trips that Shopsin and her photographer husband have taken and a woman who revolutionized telegraphy. It's a miracle that this book is readable. Shopsin might still work in a family restaurant, based on one interlude. Mainly, her parents ran a homey restaurant where bums and celebrities rubbed shoulders. It's like the Homesick Restaurant with an extensive menu. This book was functionally adequate.
Her father believes that one should have an arbitrary stupid goal, something to vaguely aim for while following the side paths. He made up a story about a family named Wolfowitz who took a summer vacation visiting every place they could that had "wolf" in the name, but Shopsin didn't find out the story wasn't real for decades.
October 17, 2019
A warm and charming scattershot of New York based Americana and ephemera. Really grew on me.
August 1, 2022
I read this in one day, it was such a trip. I need to read it again to really settle into the greater meaning of it all. After a while, when the author talks more about the family restaurant, I thought some things sounded familiar...and I realized it was the same place written about in Calvin Trillin's Eat Me. It's interesting to see another side of the story, especially with the inclusion of a dear family friend.
March 20, 2018
Well, I’m actually going to buy a copy, so you could say that I liked it.
September 8, 2019
So much better than I expected. I had such low expectations going into this mostly for the layout. Still a stupid layout but ah me the content.
I need an arbitrary stupid goal. I find life pointless. I'll have to look into this.
The author doesn't find life pointless. It was just mentioned in the final chapter. Full circle type shit.
I need an arbitrary stupid goal. I find life pointless. I'll have to look into this.
The author doesn't find life pointless. It was just mentioned in the final chapter. Full circle type shit.
May 23, 2020
Zany, in the best way!
A memoir of Village people — their shtick, shenanigans, and soul — melded with the writer's travel experiences that will have you chuckling, nodding your head, shaking your head, feeling nostalgic, and not wanting the book to end.
The chapters read like diary entries, stream-of-consciousness style. Terrific anecdotes and factoids.
A favorite of mine now.
Tip: Get the paperback, not Kindle edition, to fully enjoy the illustrations, photographs, even a New York Times crossword puzzle (that we learn through the author "a person of good intelligence should be able to finish ... in the time it takes to get from Scarsdale to New York City").
A memoir of Village people — their shtick, shenanigans, and soul — melded with the writer's travel experiences that will have you chuckling, nodding your head, shaking your head, feeling nostalgic, and not wanting the book to end.
The chapters read like diary entries, stream-of-consciousness style. Terrific anecdotes and factoids.
A favorite of mine now.
Tip: Get the paperback, not Kindle edition, to fully enjoy the illustrations, photographs, even a New York Times crossword puzzle (that we learn through the author "a person of good intelligence should be able to finish ... in the time it takes to get from Scarsdale to New York City").
May 7, 2018
Alright, so I'm rounding up here a bit (I was originally going to give this a 4 1/2 stars) but I just have so much goodwill for this book. It's such a charming time capsule of a memoir about a forgotten 1970s NYC that doesn't exist anymore. Yes, it was supposedly dirty and grimy, but Shopsin makes it sound wonderful and caring and like a real community at the same time. The love that went into writing this book is clearly evident and I really want to grab breakfast at this place when I'm in the city this fall. There are so many wonderful vignettes here and, in fact, that's how this is structured, less like a memoir and more like a series of anecdotes. My favorite (or definitely one of) might be the one with Jeff Goldblum. It's worth the price of admission by itself. If you're looking for a book with an authentic beating heart, look no further.
December 16, 2017
lots of favorable-to-ecstatic reviews on goodreads, so I seem to be an outlier, but couldn't get into it at all. I often like memoirs a lot, but I guess I need a bit more who-what-when-where. This was more in the vein of little vignettes without context, pages with artsy arrangement [scads of white space], and wistful, haiku-like statements. I didn't dislike it particularly, just made virtually no contact with it.
i gather it might land better or more meaningfully with people heavily into New York.
i gather it might land better or more meaningfully with people heavily into New York.
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