I have written a book about the Brooklyn of old - my childhood - and it is a very good and funny book.
The thing is, it is not a very straightforward narrative and its chapters are almost like poems.
I can't blame anyone except maybe John Lennon. He wrote a book in 1964 called "In His Own Write" which showed me how to write not only good, but different. He wrote beautifully, but strangely. He wrote very short items you couldn't really call stories. It was just writing.
His was the first book I ever bought. I was just a little kid. I loved the music of the Beatles, especially appreciating Lennon's part in it. I knew he was wordy, funny, tough, and a little crazy, and all of that resonated with me. Once I knew he wrote a book, I bought it right away. (Did you ever buy a book, before in your teens, with your own money?)
Lennon, and his book, changed my life, as an avid, aspiring writer, aged 12, only.
The book was an amazement to me: of humor, imagination, intellect, and fun. I read it over and over and realized I had something, too, that he had, a love of word-play, and a love of stories.What I didn't realize as a kid was our (mutual) debt to Lewis Carroll. And, next, James Joyce. Lennon is surely a successor of them both. I realize it now. Did he? Probably not. Despite his rock star status, he was essentially a regular guy. He used to decry his lack of education. I'm sorry that saddened or mattered to him. To so many of us, it didn't.