It sounds like Maeve Brennan had the easiest job in the world.
From 1954 to 1981, the Irish journalist and short-story writer sat in Manhattan’s cheaper bars and restaurants, martini in hand, and wrote down what she saw for The New Yorker.
Maeve Brennan’s New York
The collected stories of a mid-20th-century Irish writer in Manhattan recall a bygone era of Truman Capote and 50-cent martinis
December 28, 2024
Reading Time: 4 minutes
