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A review by travellingcari
Firehouse by David Halberstam
5.0
I feel as if I'm talking to a ghost. Not just the ghosts of the men from Engine 40/Ladder 35, but the ghost of David Halberstam who was gone within a few years of writing this book. So many lives lost way too soon.
I seem to be on a 9/11 drive, having read [b:The Day the World Came to Town: 9/11 in Gander, Newfoundland|148775|The Day the World Came to Town 9/11 in Gander, Newfoundland|Jim DeFede|https://d.gr-assets.com/books/1349061052s/148775.jpg|1754578] earlier this year and just finishing [b:Thunder Dog: The True Story of a Blind Man, His Guide Dog, and the Triumph of Trust at Ground Zero|9659034|Thunder Dog The True Story of a Blind Man, His Guide Dog, and the Triumph of Trust at Ground Zero|Michael Hingson|https://d.gr-assets.com/books/1315519972s/9659034.jpg|14546637] prior to this book. ALthough both of those books moved me, this moved me to ugly tears while riding the Staten Island Ferry.
I liked how the early pages of the book set the tone for the neighborhood's demographic shift. In some ways it's a biography of the building and company as well as the house. The chalkboards with the names are poignant as cover flaps and now I almost feel as if I need to make a pilgrimage.
I liked the way Halberstam worked with the surviving men from the other tours -all but one who went out that morning died- as well as the dead men's spouses to construct profiles that truly brought each of the men to life. No matter how much time I spend on the Upper West Side, I don't think I've ever seen this firehouse. I do feel as if I know all of these men though. Men who no doubt knew they were taking their last ride when they left the firehouse and headed down to Ground Zero within an hour of the first plane hitting.
I see Jack Lynch at what is now the Memorial & Museum but what was then The Hole watching and waiting for them to be able to excavate the area where he knew his son was. I see all those memorials, all those kids who will now grow up without their fathers. I feel as if I know Callahan, Giberson and his boots, Otten, Roberts, Bracken and the Bracken Bounce, Morello and his love of cars, Shea, Ginley, GAry. Buddha, Lynch, Marshall, Mercado and D'Auria. I hope that this book and their memories in their families' hearts and mind keep them alive. Like the Arizona and oil.
I seem to be on a 9/11 drive, having read [b:The Day the World Came to Town: 9/11 in Gander, Newfoundland|148775|The Day the World Came to Town 9/11 in Gander, Newfoundland|Jim DeFede|https://d.gr-assets.com/books/1349061052s/148775.jpg|1754578] earlier this year and just finishing [b:Thunder Dog: The True Story of a Blind Man, His Guide Dog, and the Triumph of Trust at Ground Zero|9659034|Thunder Dog The True Story of a Blind Man, His Guide Dog, and the Triumph of Trust at Ground Zero|Michael Hingson|https://d.gr-assets.com/books/1315519972s/9659034.jpg|14546637] prior to this book. ALthough both of those books moved me, this moved me to ugly tears while riding the Staten Island Ferry.
I liked how the early pages of the book set the tone for the neighborhood's demographic shift. In some ways it's a biography of the building and company as well as the house. The chalkboards with the names are poignant as cover flaps and now I almost feel as if I need to make a pilgrimage.
I liked the way Halberstam worked with the surviving men from the other tours -all but one who went out that morning died- as well as the dead men's spouses to construct profiles that truly brought each of the men to life. No matter how much time I spend on the Upper West Side, I don't think I've ever seen this firehouse. I do feel as if I know all of these men though. Men who no doubt knew they were taking their last ride when they left the firehouse and headed down to Ground Zero within an hour of the first plane hitting.
I see Jack Lynch at what is now the Memorial & Museum but what was then The Hole watching and waiting for them to be able to excavate the area where he knew his son was. I see all those memorials, all those kids who will now grow up without their fathers. I feel as if I know Callahan, Giberson and his boots, Otten, Roberts, Bracken and the Bracken Bounce, Morello and his love of cars, Shea, Ginley, GAry. Buddha, Lynch, Marshall, Mercado and D'Auria. I hope that this book and their memories in their families' hearts and mind keep them alive. Like the Arizona and oil.