The City We Became

In Jemisin’s Manhattan, personified in the character of Manny, the City That Never Sleeps is a complex mix of moral extremes and ambiguities. On the one hand, Manhattan is a towering testament to human achievement. Some of the world’s finest art galleries, most recognized architecture, best theater and dance, and premiere restaurants are all located on this relatively small island. Central Park, one of the most visited urban parks in the country, provides a lush, verdant respite from the helter-skelter of the city

On the other hand, Manhattan is the epicenter of extreme capitalism, affordable only to the privileged few with the financial means to not live there and enjoy its many attractions, as opposed to merely eking out a marginal existence. Its rich diversity has often been the cause of racial unrest, and its police force, “New York’s finest,” have often been less than fine to the city’s non-White citizens. Those who choose to call the city home must contend with this duality every day. Bronca both loves and hates the city. She loves the people, the vibrant arts scene, and the diversity—although that diversity is decreasing by the day—but she hates the traffic, the gentrification, and the assumptions others make about the Bronx. Manny seems a worthy choice to represent Manhattan as its defender, but he has a dark and violent past. He knows he has hurt people in his pre-avatar life, but he regrets it and wants to start fresh. Manny epitomizes the yin and yang of Manhattan: the sins and the redemption, the history of displacement, and the attempts at inclusion. Jemisin captures her conflicted feelings about the city in her acknowledgements: “I have hated this city. I have loved this city. I will fight for this city until it won’t have me anymore” (437).

In the 1980s, Times Square was a ravaged neighborhood. Its former Broadway glory had been replaced by adult movie theaters and a hodgepodge of dingy stores selling everything from samurai swords to cheap tourist paraphernalia. 42nd Street, Times Square’s main thoroughfare, was a haven for prostitution and drug dealing. The Port Authority, Manhattan’s central bus terminal, was crowded with the sleeping bodies of the homeless. And yet, artists and others of modest financial means could afford a studio or even a small one-bedroom apartment. In the 1990s, then-mayor Rudolph Giuliani made sweeping changes to city policy concerning everything from policing to incentives to lure businesses to economically depressed neighborhoods. During his tenure, crime dropped precipitously, economic investment soared, and Manhattan became a hot spot for tourism once again.

All these improvements have come at a price, however. Critics have pointed to the displacement of low-income communities, the loss of affordable housing for police, teachers, and others who work in the city, and a proliferation of chain stores and restaurants that, many argue, have diluted Manhattan’s unique character, turning it into a bland stew unrecognizable from any other city in the United States.

Jemisin reckons with the question of whether Manhattan is objectively better now. While Bronca makes no bones about her love/hate relationship with the city, Jemisin argues that the loss of culture and diversity is not worth the trade-off. It is no accident that R’lyeh’s invading city is an all-White paragon of order and control. Diversity and the perceived disorder that may come with it is intolerable to the Enemy, but that disorder is part of the inherent beauty of cities. Creative expression arises not from peace but from conflict, and New Yorkers, more than most Jemisin believes, know how to manage that conflict and channel it productively. While Giuliani's New York may be safer and cleaner, it has become less a true, rough-and-tumble city and more a sedate, family-friendly club for the wealthy. Moreover, given that crime dropped nationwide during that same period, there is significant debate over whether Giuliani's reforms are responsible for the plummeting crime rate. The artists, meanwhile, are pushed to the fringes—the Bronx, the eastern edges of Queens, New Jersey—but they still continue to create and to make those fringes the city that Manhattan has ceased to be.