Leonard Cohen's novel The Favorite Game is rather slim, but he simply doesn't waste words. An admirable quality since many writers feels that just because a page is blank that it needs to be filled.
Breavman and Krantz are childhood friends who make a strict pact with each other:
They swore not to be fooled by long cars, screen love, the Red Menace, or The New Yorker magazine.
This passage was chosen though it reflects my current personal feelings towards NYC:
New York City... He was relieved that it wasn’t his city and he didn’t have to record its ugly magnificence. He walked on whatever streets he wanted and he didn’t have to put their names in stories. New York had already been sung.
