Like many other people who have looked at a city and thought, I could probably plan that, I am spending 2024 following along with the “99% Invisible” podcast book club and reading “The Power Broker.” I’m only six hundred pages in, and already Robert Caro’s 1974 masterpiece is changing my life. Here’s how:
I am getting yolked. Who needs weight training when you’re carrying around “The Power Broker”? My biceps are ripped. My neck muscles are bulging. One very specific muscle in my back is sore, but it is also toned. It’s not just a vanity thing—I’m also getting very strong. You have something that weighs 2.9 pounds that you need picked up? Brother, I am your guy.
I’ve patented a new invention. People who see me in public with “The Power Broker” are always going, “Oh, my God, you’re actually carrying that thing around?” Duh—how else am I going to read it? But to help with the carrying, I have invented a special sling called the BrokerBjörn.
I have not become a person who judges people who haven’t read “The Power Broker.” But I have become the kind of person who becomes very sad when other people haven’t read “The Power Broker.” Look, I realize that this book is twelve hundred pages and that most people have jobs, children, maybe even boyfriends to fill their time. But who’s gonna talk to me about the fact that Robert Moses’s grandparents were first cousins?!
I’m constantly using the word “expressway.” Friends and family are, like, “Maybe you mean highway?” No.
I learned a thing about LaGuardia Airport that isn’t “they have a crazy fountain now!”
I’ve become the kind of person I hate. As a rule, I do not listen to podcasts because (a) information does not easily enter my brain through my earholes and (b) I like to listen to Americana music all day so I can try to harmonize with it, thereby ruining my neighbor’s life. But, when I tell people that I do not listen to podcasts, they invariably respond by telling me what podcasts I should listen to. I’ve made one exception by reading “The Power Broker” while listening along with the “99% Invisible” podcast, an experience that I am forced to admit I am enjoying. Let’s just say, you either die a hero or you live long enough to become a person who enthusiastically recommends podcasts to people.
I’ve been thinking a lot about the time I almost got hit by a car biking down Second Avenue. Can I blame that on Robert Moses somehow?
I picked up the phrase “not quite Christlike.” Used in the book to describe F.D.R.’s efforts to get people to stop saying he was a moron, I’m leaning heavily on the phrase to replace “ungodly” and “satanic,” words that I mostly use to describe an amount of French fries I have just eaten.
I’m saving a lot of money. Obviously, the primary purpose of “The Power Broker” is to make you miss your subway stop because you’re so engrossed in reading about nineteen-thirties traffic patterns. But I’ve also found that the book works great as a tofu press, a yoga block, and a device to murder a bee that got inside your kitchen.
I learned that the Triborough Bridge was renamed the Robert F. Kennedy Bridge in 2008. After the third or fourth footnote that said, “The Triborough Bridge was renamed the Robert F. Kennedy Bridge in 2008,” I was, like, hmm . . . I’m starting to think that the Triborough Bridge was renamed the Robert F. Kennedy Bridge in 2008.
I am no longer allowed in my friends’ houses. Nowadays, when I see that someone owns a copy of “The Power Broker,” instead of politely ignoring it, I try to talk to them about it, even though I know damn well they don’t want to talk about it, because they haven’t read it.
Everyone finds me annoying. When people become aware of the fact that I am reading “The Power Broker,” they immediately think I am a sanctimonious jerk, regardless of whether I even mention “The Power Broker.” It’s kind of wild, but luckily I am used to this phenomenon because I am also vegan.
I briefly considered reading Robert Caro’s L.B.J. books before I realized I don’t have a good enough personality to make up for becoming a person suddenly obsessed with talking about Lyndon Baines Johnson.
I have a lot of ideas about what should be a park. Everything?
I became extremely popular on Hinge. At some point, I updated my Hinge profile to say that I “couldn’t stop talking about” small details no one else remembers from “The Power Broker,” and immediately that info started doing huge numbers for me. Dozens of men wanted to know: What details? Suddenly, I saw how I could exploit knowledge of “The Power Broker” to acquire the three things I most wanted: sex, love, and someone to talk to about “The Power Broker.” I was having a great time chatting with complete strangers about Robert Caro, writing that “the public works of New York City are hack works designed by hacks,” and chatting about how much of a bitch Eleanor Roosevelt was. It was paradise . . . until, high off all the likes I was getting, I went on a swiping spree. I saw a guy who looked vaguely familiar and “liked” him one split second before realizing that he looked familiar because I slept with him a year ago. I immediately deleted my Hinge. Sorry to all the men I left hanging with questions about Robert Moses. ♦
