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Back Feast Your Eyes Save as PDF
Chapters (16)
  1. Cover
  2. Dedication
  3. Introduction
  4. CATALOGUE OF THE EXHIBITION
  5. Greenwich Village, 1953–54
  6. Lower East Side, 1954–56
  7. Brooklyn Heights, 1956–1961
  8. Park Slope, 1961–63
  9. “The Samantha Series”
  10. Park Slope, 1963–70
  11. Cleveland, 1970–76
  12. The Last Self-Portraits
  13. Acknowledgments
  14. Reading Group Guide
  15. About the Author
  16. Copyright

KENNETH LOWELL: I knew something was brewing because when I stepped out of Sam’s bedroom that night, Lil was waiting for me, but I figured it had to do with photography or Sam. I was hot to get to the bar, since my pal had landed a contract for a collection of his Voice strips, and we were going to celebrate. After the word “pregnant,” I was so jazzed that I did not hear what Lil said next. I know I started talking, because Lil had to place her hand on my mouth to get me to stop.

When she told me that she didn’t want the baby, I made her repeat it. I suppose I thought if she said it enough times, she would come to her senses and say something else.

I remember getting very angry, very quickly. It was a miracle Sam did not wake up. I told Lil she was perverse for not wanting our child. I called her sick, and cruel, and selfish; I said that if she chose to have the abortion, I never wanted to see her again. We both cried after that, then were very tender with each other. I remember thinking if only I had taken a stronger stance sooner, Sam might have become a big sister years before.

The next morning, Lil kissed me as I left for work. By the time I arrived home, they were gone.

Park Slope, 1961–63

55. Candy store, Brooklyn, 1961

The title’s helpful, especially if you’re not great at reading reverse lettering off the inside of a storefront window that’s partially blocked by slouching twelve- and thirteen-year-olds. The Italian couple who ran this place kept the candy and magazines in the back so the future greasers of South Brooklyn could hang out in front without being tempted to steal anything. I doubt these kids scared Lillian the way they scared me, since she wasn’t half their size, but I knew as soon as I saw this store that it would never belong to me. It belonged to those kids the same way the streets belonged to their older brothers, who walked down Seventh Avenue with matching jackets and matching hair. When our own careers in delinquency began, Kaja and I opted for Atlantic Avenue, even though it was a half-hour walk.