a dreadnought of a World War II-era historical novel, bristling with armaments yet intimate in tone. In drawing from the classic catalog of New York stories, Manhattan Beach also takes its place among them. Manhattan Beach is a big gorgeous tribute to New York City and its seaport. But to focus on scattered imperfections would be like focusing on the litter of New York City streets while ignoring the wonder of the city itself. Especially at the beginning, Egan strains to convince readers of the authenticity of her story and intrusively references too many brand names and period details: Ivory Flakes for washing, automats, the 40-cent boxed chicken lunches that Anna buys at the Navy Yard. Manhattan Beach is ambitiously and deliciously plot-driven, and it boldly helps itself to a wide library of earlier New York stories. Like every good historical novel I've ever read, the storyline of this one is as hokey as hell and completely transporting. This is a big, traditional historical novel - in the manner of a Ken Follett or Herman Wouk.
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