Welcome to Jameson’s Book Club, a space to talk about the books mentioned in episodes of Bottles and Bonds, books invariably Jameson has been told to add to his reading, books invariably he may never get a chance to read. But, that doesn’t mean we can’t gather as a B&B community to talk about them.
If you’re looking to grab a copy, we encourage you to use the links provided to support a friend of the podcast who actually wants to sell books and not send billionaires into space. Click for her bookshop.org store, Three Splotches of Ink and find your copy there.
If you grab one and read it, tell us what you thought about the book in the comments, and why you feel Jameson should read it.
Last Call at Coogan’s: Life and Death of a Neighborhood Bar
Mentioned in S1 E2, from the author:
The uniquely inspiring story of a beloved neighborhood bar that united the communities it served.
Coogan’s Bar and Restaurant opened in New York City’s Washington Heights in 1985 and closed its doors for good in the pandemic spring of 2020. Sometimes called Uptown City Hall, it became a staple of neighborhood life during its 35 years in operation—a place of safety and a bulwark against prejudice in a multi-ethnic, majority-immigrant community undergoing rapid change.
Last Call at Coogan’s by Jon Michaud tells the story of this beloved saloon, from the challenging years of the late 80’s and early 90’s, when Washington Heights suffered from the highest crime rate in the city, to the 2010’s, when gentrification pushed out longtime residents and nearly closed Coogan’s itself; only a massive community mobilization including local politicians and Lin-Manuel Miranda kept the doors open.
This book touches on many serious issues facing the country today: race relations, policing, gentrification, and the COVID-19 pandemic. Along the way, readers will meet the bar’s owners and an array of its most colorful regulars, such as an aspiring actor from Kentucky who dreams of bringing a theater company to Washington Heights, a television reporter who loves karaoke, and a Puerto Rican community board manager who falls in love with an Irish cop from the local precinct. At its core, this is the story of one small business, the people who worked there, the customers they served, and the community they all called home.
The Theory of the Cafe Central
Mentioned in S1 E3, “The Theory of the Cafe Central” is an essay that is a delight to read. Alfred Polgar perfectly articulates the most essential element of bar culture when he says:
The Café Central lies on the Viennese latitude at the meridian of loneliness. Its inhabitants are, for the most part, people whose hatred of their fellow human beings is as fierce as their longing for people, who want to be alone but need companionship for it.
You can read it here from the University of Washington.
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The Tender Bar
Mentioned in S1 E5, from the publisher:
J.R. Moehringer grew up captivated by a voice. It was the voice of his father, a New York City disc jockey who vanished before J.R. spoke his first word. Sitting on the stoop, pressing an ear to the radio, J.R. would strain to hear in that plummy baritone the secrets of masculinity and identity. Though J.R.’s mother was his world, his rock, he craved something more, something faintly and hauntingly audible only in The Voice.
At eight years old, suddenly unable to find The Voice on the radio, J.R. turned in desperation to the bar on the corner, where he found a rousing chorus of new voices. The alphas along the bar—including J.R.’s Uncle Charlie, a Humphrey Bogart look-alike; Colt, a Yogi Bear sound-alike; and Joey D, a softhearted brawler—took J.R. to the beach, to ballgames, and ultimately into their circle. They taught J.R., tended him, and provided a kind of fathering-by-committee. Torn between the stirring example of his mother and the lurid romance of the bar, J.R. tried to forge a self somewhere in the center. But when it was time for J.R. to leave home, the bar became an increasingly seductive sanctuary, a place to return and regroup during his picaresque journeys. Time and again the bar offered shelter from failure, rejection, heartbreak—and eventually from reality.
In the grand tradition of landmark memoirs, The Tender Bar is suspenseful, wrenching, and achingly funny. A classic American story of self-invention and escape, of the fierce love between a single mother and an only son, it’s also a moving portrait of one boy’s struggle to become a man, and an unforgettable depiction of how men remain, at heart, lost boys.
A spirited conversation 
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