Manhatten Mayhem by David Rothenberg, review written 25 April 2025

David Rothenberg’s new memoir, Manhattan Mayhem, is an intelligent, beautiful look at a lifetime of memories (and fictionalized memories) in a collection of self contained, yet intimately related short stories told in a nonlinear order. At times utterly hilarious, at others dark and disconcerting, this absolute gem gracefully holds space for the vast spectrum of the human experience through the eyes of a gifted storyteller who has seen a remarkably broad cross section of life: from helping the incarcerated to spying on bigots to eves-dropping on the synagogue sisterhood to bullies on the playground to brushing shoulders with celebrities, there’s a little bit of everyone in New York woven into the fabric of Rothenberg’s aptly named Manhattan Mayhem. It is delightfully insane to think that all of these walks of life inhabit one island, but they do. In today’s divisive times, these stories serve as a reminder that coexistence is possible, and, when it happens, beautiful.

David Rothenberg is currently 91 years old, yet some of his most poignant ponderings in this book take place in his childhood. He recalls these moments vividly, and frequently remarks on what he believed at the time and what he later learned to be true. Sometimes, the difference is shattering in a devastating way, as in the case of the death of his uncle Danny, but other times it is more shattering for the reader, like Rothenberg not realizing how much his mother loved his disruptive, playful antics. Stories of him finding his footing in activism were equally powerful, as was the refreshing nature of someone who fights for other communities in addition to his own, but does so respectfully in a person-centered way. Some of the stories may feel far fetched to the faithless, yet I find myself wanting very much to believe that forgiveness can cure cancer, not every love story ends in pain, and straight men will defend gay rights on the radio.

I had a strong reaction to a pattern in Rothenberg’s revisiting of his life— he has a high tendency to elevate the good in others and overlook his own. His descriptions of others are very loving and devoted; even the generalizations provided about The Fortune Society taking a person centered approach are all firmly rooted in the belief that being a person is an inherently wonderful thing. Yet Rothenberg is a little critical of himself, even when talking about his child self. He is humble and doesn’t take ownership of the fact that he also touched/touches the lives of those he chose to immortalize in these pages— he never discusses his own influence. Even after years as an activist, Rothenberg didn’t write this memoir to tell his own story, but the story of his city and a world that has changed drastically. He honors the people who once lived here— the “flowers” as he refers to the women of his mother’s generation. He is proud of the trailblazers, and also acknowledges the ever-present pain and suffering of people, sometimes on very little basis— religion, weight, mental health, gambling, alcoholism, sexual orientation. By showing these qualities as inseparable parts of his journey through the people and moments he wants to honor, Rothenberg makes a clear statement that life is not just one thing— it is everything.

Perhaps the most meaningful element of Manhattan Mayhem is that it’s not chronological. Rothenberg sometimes includes the same people, and it’s fun as a reader to try to connect all the dots, but also fun to get lost in it. Each story is a chapter of his life (sometimes mixed with a little fictional fun), but it’s also just a moment. He doesn’t give us 91 years worth of stories, which is to say it’s not a complete picture of his life story. Any moment in this journey could be missed, and many moments in his journey are. This boldly demands that the reader understand both connection and disconnection, and see the importance in both as Rothenberg recreates a world very directly influenced by World War II and then reminds us that WW2 was told in both deaths and baseball cards. Rothenberg’s holistic approach is a beautiful, bold reminder for the next generation that we don’t need to debate whether the glass is half full or half empty— we need to make sure that there are enough glasses to get to everyone.

I reviewed this memoir as a member of the press via an advance copy provided by Keith Sherman and Associates.