The Parkslopian: Growing up in Park Slope Brooklyn 50s-80s and Iconic things of our time (Brooklyn Neighborhoods)

BROUGHT ME BACK TO BROOKLYN WHEN I WAS A KID LOVED EVERY PAGE OF THE BOOK THANKS STEVE

Excellent book it brought me back to my youth

It reminded me of Park slope but I didn’t like the way it was written like a Facebook feed

I was eagerly awaiting the release of this book. I read online postings by the author about all of the iconic images he was going to use. I didn't expect the book to be only photos but guess I didn't expect that they would be used just on the front and back cover. Inside the book, it appears to be a collection of facebook posts which were copied into a word doc, complete with "ur". Comments appear to be back and forth stories about an iconic place, unattributed, making the conversation, (punctuated with, "me toos!") difficult to follow. As someone who was born and raised in the slope, I had such high hopes for this book. I was excited to share it with my kids and my dad.This book had such potential, there's a market for a great collection of the old photographs the author seems to have but only included little glimpses of on the back cover. Done right, this would be a great walk down memory lane for those of us who grew up there and a fun history lessons for new residents. Hopefully, someone does it right, because this ain't it.

I cannot even begin to describe the excitement I felt when I first learned of this book. Having been born in the area, I had great expectations about a walk down memory lane. Unfortunately, it was more like a drunken stumble through a rutted landscape. The author (and I use that term loosely) seems to have thrown together a mishmash of shared experiences plucked from Facebook groups, replete with misspellings and misinformation. This would be bad enough, except that the misspellings, variations in spelling (Parkslopian/Park Slopian is a pretty glaring example), along with fragmented sentences, abysmal grammar, misused apostrophes (or none used when actually needed), and the inexplicable and annoying use of center alignment, all come together in a maddening waste of ink and paper. I could go on and on, but to sum it all up, this self-proclaimed writer has roughly the skills of a grade-schooler, if that grade-schooler had been burdened with a number of unfortunate chromosomal inversions, had sucked regularly on a vodka-dipped pacifier as a toddler, and yet managed to have an incredible gift for making those who treasured that same past collectively swipe their brows in relief that they managed to outpace the author and get past third grade, considering they came from the same place.