Manhattan may be a myth

  'What do I do now?' I asked him, helpless not to turn to the authority before me, the father we dream of in joy and fear.
  'Go back to a city that needs you.'
  'You mean, Manhattan?'
  'No one disputes your place here. You own your apartment outright, don't you? I understand it has a fine view.'
  If I stayed a moment longer Arnheim might describe those birds and that tower, my heart's last sacred quadrant of sky. I fled into the night and snow before I could hear it.

I don't like books that are weird. So I tried to put down Jonathan Lethem's Chronic City. But I couldn't because it mesmerised me. And it is thick and heavy. So now I hobble around with injuries - because I strained my hand and lost my heart.