A good Scotch, the warm, acrid scent of cigarette smoke and the sound of swing music in the heart of nostalgic 1930s New York City. That’s the scene that envelopes, embraces and enchants the reader from the first chapter of Amor Towles’ debut novel, “Rules of Civility.”
Opening on New Year’s Eve 1937, the novel tells the story of a chance meeting between the ironically named Katey Kontent, her friend Eve Ross and the handsome, wealthy Tinker Grey. The characters unfold and reveal themselves slowly, just how one would imagine the vodka at Chernoff’s (the Russian immigrant hideaway at which the trio finds itself at one point) slowly distills in the proprietor’s bathtub/makeshift still.
Their chance meeting leads to a whirlwind of events that catapult Katey into an enviable position as part of the startup of “Gotham” magazine and into the upper echelon of New York City high society. Towles’ writing is reflective, but not so much that he’s asking the reader to follow him into the depths of the unknown. Rather, one feels kinship and, at times, pity for Katey and her quiet longing, her hidden wishes, her unvoiced desires.
But her wry sense of humor and quick wit, especially when she’s bitter about something, makes it clear she’s not some one-dimensional character devoid of poise or self-assurance. In Katey, Towles has fluidly built a feminine, headstrong individual, and his portrayal of her is impressive. Though the other characters have their charm and solid personalities, Katey is the bookish heroine of “Rules of Civility.”
While there are many unexpected twists and turns, Towles unfolds the story quietly, without much pomp and flair, which makes it that much more of a page-turner. As much as his descriptive language so easily paints the setting of the novel, so, too, does his dialogue and tone.
Everything about “Rules of Civility” makes it a heady tribute to a city like no other during an era like no other. The lingo, the vivid descriptions and the scenery all call the reader back to a time when it was a nickel for a gin and tonic and the only thing you could do with a phone was talk into it.
One of the most stirring lines of Towles’ fluttery prose sums up his utterly fantastic debut with stirring accuracy: “‘That’s the problem with being born in New York,’ the old newsman observed a little sadly. ‘You’ve got no New York to run away to.’”
Rating: W W W W W
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