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New York--that "savage's romance," as the poet Marianne Moore described it--occupies such a peculiar, powerful place in the world's imagination that one marvels at those writers who are brave enough to take it on as a subject. But there it is, in stories and plays and essays, from Melville's "Bartleby" to Joan Didion's "Goodbye to All That"--fragmentary works that offer no real conclusions about the romance that most of New York's denizens have with their town. "City of night like you wouldn't believe, absolutely Asphalt Jungle" is how Michael Herr speaks of the island of Manhattan, in his 1977 essay "The Hook." He goes on, "So much culture, such bad manners. . . . ...