Entranced by this wonderful compendium of nostalgic reminiscences - written in a lively, irresistible style - I have given the book as a gift on every occasion that calls for one. Without fail, recipients tell me that not only did they thoroughly enjoy the trip down memory lane, but, in turn, "lent" the book to friends and relatives, who, in turn, have "lent" it to others... In each case I receive lengthy letters, e-mails or telephone calls of thanks from people wishing to add their own personal memories to Bernice Carton's remarkable store of nostalgia...This includes readers in locations as disparate as Florida, Georgia, Pennsylvania, Virginia, Rhode Island, Connecticut, Massachusetts, California, Canada, Australia, England and France. Not just Brooklyn! (I have recently learned through the grapevine that this book now even numbers among the possessions of exiled Prince Michael of Rumania himself, a gentleman whose presence graces the pages of this work)!...What a wonderful springboard for hours of delightful conversation! It has proven itself to be the gift of the century... Everyone tells me they are eagerly awaiting the sequel - tales of Ms. Carton's adolescence in Brooklyn...

I am a Californian who has lived in Brooklyn Heights since 1991. Beyond the Brooklyn Bridge is a delightful story about a Brooklyn that was here long before I arrived. The characters in the book are the kind of kids with whom I would love to have played. The Mothers are to sort of lovely people one would like to have gotten to know. I recommend the book for those who are new to New York and to people all of the country who would like a view of Brooklyn past.

Reading her book made me feel I knew her. Certainly, she took me by the hand and led me down Memory Lane and it was fun all the way. I haven't heard anyone say "Holy Cow" for long time. I loved the part about the empty lot because a house burnt down. The kids on my block in New Kensington Pennsylvania had an empty lot, too. There, we had roast "mickies", too. We didn't call them that, but we loved eating them. Cindery black though they were, and usually raw in the middle. Open streetcars. Penny Candy. I had to laugh out loud when I read about ice cream plopping out on the sidewalk to "Good-bye, Charlie!" It's been a long time since I heard that, and "Hot diggety dog!" I was surprised to learn that Brooklyn kids used the same expressions that we did in New Kensington, Pennsylvania, where I grew up in the 1920's. I guess I didn't expect the use of language to be the same everywhere. This book gave me so much pleasure!