On the last day of summer, some years ago, a young college graduate moves to Chicago and rents a small apartment on the north side of the city, by the vast and muscular lake. This is the story of the five seasons he lives there, during which he meets gangsters, gamblers, policemen, a brave and garrulous bus driver, a cricket player, a librettist, his first girlfriend, a shy apartment manager, and many other riveting souls, not to mention a wise and personable dog of indeterminate breed.
A love letter to Chicago, the Great American City, and a wry account of a young man's coming-of-age during the one summer in White Sox history when they had the best outfield in baseball, Brian Doyle's Chicago is a novel that will plunge you into a city you will never forget, and may well wish to visit for the rest of your days.
I knew it would happen
When I was halfway through this wonderful book, I knew that my heart would break at the end, and dammit, it did. Through a series of semi-connected stories about a young man’s first year after college, working for a small magazine in Chicago, you are reminded, sometimes sadly and sometimes joyously, of moments in your life that you didn’t know at the time were the most important moments.