A love letter to NYC in the best possible way. A woman escaping from her stifling post-grad life in London stumbles onto a 6 month house/cat-sit and discovers herself while falling in love with New York. Kate, the narrator, changes with each experience, growing more unpredictable as she downs drugs and sheds inhibitions. The best parts are the meaty bits I love about NYC, the grimy hot summer, the sweaty subway, the people packed and interesting. The flimsier part of the book is the wobbly plot structure—Kate sees Inez in a bodega on her first jet-lagged night, buys the same brand of cigarettes as Inez, then (serendipitously!) Inez runs into Kate in Washington Square and asks if she’s the Kate looking to buy Adderall. No, but (gasp!) her name is also Kate, and thus begins a friendship. Another coincidence—Kate meets Bill (famous old author) at a gallery party and gosh if he isn’t Inez’s father! The hubbub comes crashing to a climax at a Halloween party where the three end up and Bill’s old Warhol-factory-pal shoots himself on his 88th birthday.