Cleaning Up New York has been a word-of-mouth 1970s cult classic since it was first published in 1976 in a limited edition. The East Village, NYC, 1976. A 26-year-old starving poet needs $60. What else to do but register with a temp agency as a house cleaner? The excitement never wanes as he is catapulted into the everyday yet unimaginable worlds behind closed (apartment) doors. Bob knows one thing: dirt will always win. Clients are a bit more unpredictable, he discovers, as he comes to terms with eccentric domestic habits and intimate dramas; weird vibes and strange discoveries; appreciation, dependency, dismissal...and seduction. Even if he's asked to clean up a loft the size of the Strand - and he is, and it's above the legendary bookstore - he coffees up with a donut, fortifies himself with some (pocketed) weed, and sets out anew, with disarming insight, originality, and humor. With alternate chapters devoted to practical cleaning tips, Cleaning Up New York is a quirky reinvention in the tradition of George Orwell's Down and Out in Paris and London, Studs Terkel's chronicles of the working class, and Mrs. Beeton's Book of Household Management; its narrator a spiritual descendent of Candide, Ida Tarbell, and Holden Caulfield.
Pretty much loved this. It feels kinda proto-Magnus Mills or Nicholson Baker in its defiant mundaneness. I'm not sure this book's particular stripe of genuine guilelessness could really be pulled off in 2016. Is any young artistically-inclined urban dweller this simple anymore? Were they ever? And, yeah, OK, even though the guy is in what appears to be a solid loving relationship he still daydreams sexually about every female apartment tenant he meets and even tries to fuck a vacuum cleaner at one point - but wouldn't it be at least slightly dishonest to portray things otherwise?
Bob Rosenthal is a struggling poet who needs money to live. He decides to register with a cleaning agency, where he soon becomes the cleaner for various New York residents.
Bob is also a stoner and that coupled with his bizarre quirks and habits (still not sure how I feel about the excerpt about the vacuum cleaner), makes this book a most bizarre read.
Written in 1976, this book apparently became a cult classic… all I can say is that I’m glad he doesn’t clean my house!
A lightweight weirdie grabbed on impulse from the Tompkins Square Library b/c god forbid I not have anything to read on the subway home from seeing Cocaine Bear.
It's amazing and romantic to think that once upon a time, a young Bohemian poet could make a go of it on the Lower East Side, cleaning apartments for $3/hr, picking up new clients by word of mouth.
But there's a rich tradition of it - just ask David Sedaris.
I enjoyed the anecdotes and the peep into a NYC that no longer exists, and the odd bit of pinched grass aside, respected Bob Rosenthal's work ethic and honesty, and his penchant for sharing cleaning tips born of experience.
He was using little more than ammonia and a bucket. I just bought a 30-piece brush set that attaches to a drill b/c a lady on YouTube recommended them in the insomniac hours. We'll see how that works out. Bob! Come clean my apartment for $3/hr!
Bob says "There is not one lie in it." I liked this little book and its comments on the philosophy of cleaning; those less neurotic than I would say it's a futile exercise. Where does the dirt go when we wipe it away? We track it in just to clear it up again. Dirt can never be defeated or eradicated. It is our collective shame. But there is ritual in cleaning and satisfaction in the job well done and the clean space while it lasts. And besides, regular cleaning is preventative of total filth, like nightly prayer for a virtuous soul. I am already planning a deep clean for this weekend.
I bought this from a book shop in New York; intrigued by its cover and that it was a quick read.
Cleaning Up New York is one man's account of being a cleaner of various residences in New York, in the 1970s. Bob is a poet. Bob is also a stoner. Both of these facts make for quite a bizarre read.. especially the anecdote concerning the vacuum cleaner! Interlaced with cleaning tips, this really was a very random read..
A cute and quick slice-of-life in 1970s NYC. I fully enjoyed following this narrator's quirky inner monologue, but did not get much out of the descriptions of cleaning that interrupted it. This book has no meaning and lots of charm, and doesn't try to be anything more than that.
Cult classic? Really? Maybe this is like a ‘60s art-scene version of the incomprehensible anti-memes that seemed to have peaked a couple years ago, a sort of borderline Dada act of giggling in the quotidian as opposed to trying to make a statement. Of course that giggle changes a lot from that in the smoking craters of post-WWI Europe to that of depressive postcollegiate Zoomers, and I guess this kind of 1960s wackiness was one such stopover. I’m glad Rosenthal chose to play with form, but this… big no from me.
The narrator gets a job cleaning houses. He describes his cleaning process generally, and he sketches the people he works for with few details.
This would be an interesting framework for a story. But it never really develops into a story. In the end I still know almost nothing about the narrator, and not much has changed about him.
An easy, quick, and entertaining read, Cleaning Up New York is poet Bob Rosenthal's memoir about his residential cleaning gig in New York of the 1970s. The book is divided into 10 chapters, each providing an anecdote on a client or a strange experience along with cleaning tips, often focusing on a particular room in the house. And that's that -- it's a unique, odd little book.
A highly enjoyable topical memoir that reveals quite a bit about 1960s/1970s New York and what it means to work as a cleaner when all other employment opportunities have denied you. There are even some helpful tidying tips here that are certainly more useful than anything spewed by the likes of Marie Kondo
Surprisingly loved this little book (poem?). It was sarcastic yet tender, absurd yet practical. It left me wanting to deep clean my apartment and pay attention to the details.
This book had me laughing out loud. Some of the adventures the author finds himself in are hilarious. I'm thinking of him vacuuming the stairs in boxer shorts! In addition to meeting some of his more interesting clients, he does have great tips on cleaning. Honestly, how a man can get such enjoyment out of cleaning is a mystery! Cleaning is the bane of my existence! I knew he was out of my league when he talked about pulling out the refrigerator to clean underneath it. Who does that? I fun look into 1979's New York City life!
What to say about this book? Part memoir of life in gritty 1970s New York City (which I enjoyed as a current New Yorker), part how-to guide to housecleaning (which I found slightly disconcerting as it was my husband who recommended it to me), and wholly crazy and unpredictable. It is apparently a cult classic, though I had never heard of it before and am not sure how my husband found it. If you're looking for something COMPLETELY different, you might want to give this a try--and, as it takes next to no time to read, you're not risking much.
I volunteer at the library. This was in a stack of books needing a protective, plastic cover. The cover and the author bio on inside back flap piqued my interest. I was not disappointed. I've been called 'Sister Immaculata' on occasion regarding my housekeeping habits so, of course, the cleaning routines were a delight. Even more delightful was the author's matter of fact, sometimes even lurid, experiences and the gossip about his clients. This little book is indeed a rare gem...
This is a very fun book about cleaning homes in New York City in the '70's. Rosenthal is a very good writer and he engaged me right away. He gives cleaning tips as he divulges trivia about the people he is cleaning for. New York in the seventies was a very different time and he is good at making the reader feel that. He also made me feel like I should hire a cleaner (I really should) and gave me some criteria to go by.
A slender volume by a poet who made ends meet by cleaning up after people in New York in the 70's. Some great cleaning tips and reflections on life and the people he worked for. Seems like that pivotal time in his life taught him many life lessons that work well. Wish someone like him was willing to clean my place even though the $3.50/ hour Bob earned would probably be a bit more costly today.
Maybe I've become way too much of a prude, but I really could've done without dude talking about the one time he tried to fuck a vacuum cleaner after getting a boner on the job. Otherwise, a very fun read, tho.