New York Writers Drink for Free!

God, why are book events so much more fun in New York than in Toronto? (that's a rhetorical question--don't email me your answers, I will only want to kill myself sooner.)

Of all the gossip and slights made in this piece about the American National Book Foundation party celebrating writers under 35, what struck me most were the words: Open. Bar.

Last week I was at the awards ceremony for the Random House Short Story Contest which is held at the University of Toronto's School for Continuing Studies. There was one man walking around the foyer clutching drink tickets like they were a royal flush. He walked by me four times before I started openly mocking his suede vest.

The event had good intentions (celebrating burgeoning writers of all ages) and Elyse Friedman revealed herself to be utterly charming, but the reception sort of stank.

Literally. There was some aging salmon laid out on the food table along with U of T freebie classics like browning-on-the-edges hummus and white bread and mystery stuffing rolls.

Maybe I am an ungrateful jerk for harping on the food and booze at a book event, but I thought this was the reward for showing up at these events (at least for those of us who don't actually win top prize).