I stumbled upon a first edition of "Low Tide" languishing on a lower shelf in North Beach. Immediately drawn to the deep, swirling mauves and gothic typeface of its cover, I flipped the book over to discover the portrait in profile of a straight-back girl - Ms. Eberstadt - and Everything about this girl shrieked DEB!! DEB!! DEB!! And I was right; a lovely example of belles lettres is this thin volume of prose - quasi-autobiographical I suppose - and a wonderful evocation of the compressed, elite world she must live in.

In brief, Jezebel, her protagonist, lives with her mother, who "...weaned her on stories of the Great Terrebonne, a teetering Third Empire house with dizzy cupolas," in the Louisiana swamp. By page two, it turns out that her Mum's got bats in her belfry, for she and Jezebel actually live on New York's Upper East Side in a brownstone with cocoa labels steamed off tins and arrayed on their kitchen walls like "hot fetishes." Eustacius - an addition to bearing a lovely name- is their illiterate Black manservant ("I reads between the lines") who "dishes out equal portions of gumbo and wisdom" in the absence of her effete father who ,she explains, has expatriated himself to Oxford, England's groves of academe. Precocious Jezebel is in love with Jem Chasm, the son of Prof. Chasm, who "grew up in hotel suites" with his mother, Bocanegra Chasem. After a passing fancy for a teacher at the Brearley School Jezebel turns all her attention to Jem and actually turns up at Oxford.

Jem is as cruel and beautiful as Jezebel, and for 18 year olds they are pretty astoundingly jaded already. Jem has "more money than he knew what to do with," and so, evidentally, has she, but the money takes a back seat here to Jezebel's worshipful, idolatrous love for Jem, besides, money is filthy lucre in Ms. Eberstadt's worldview (unlike all those other 80s and 90s writers who write of nothing but), and she has, I suspect, like Eustacius, no patience for "bedizened spics showing up late for dinner." Yes, this is "heady stuff," and the plot is anything but linear. Jem, her love-object grew up on tramp steamers and trains and above all, in world-class hotels; sired by a doughty professor on the daughter of a Chiapan millionaire.

To me this book is brilliant. I love Ms. Eberstadt's writing and I prefer "Low Tide to both "Daughters" and "Isaac's Devil's" because it is so pure, like the portrait of an artist as a young (wo)man. In telling a simple story she can bring in such understanding and she really knows her class from the inside out; she's an intellectual deb - a rara avis, indeed - and one with a conscience (read Daughters) and a vocabulary that won't stop and can be likened to something along the lines of a Jamesian amalgam of British and American English. She's adept at both description and metaphor without a jot of overdoing it. One of my faves. Would she publish another book soon!!!

Notwithstanding Jezebel, Eberstadt's characters are sort of spectral forms and outlines of flesh and blood beings. They are as polished and poised as the world they inhabit, which adds to the overall sparceness of "Low Tide," like an exquisite minimalist painting.

I stumbled upon a first edition of "Low Tide" one rainy day in North Beach. Immediately drawn to the deep, swirling purples and gothic type of its cover, I flipped it over to find a classic portrait of a straight-back girl; Ms. Eberstadt, and Everything about this girl shrieked DEB!! DEB!! DEB!! And I was right: a lovely piece of belles lettres is this thin volume of prose loosely autobiographical, I suppose, and a wonderful evocation of the compressed, elite world she must live in.

In brief Jezebel, her protagonist, lives with her mother, who "weaned her on stories of the Great Terrebonne, a teetering Third Empire house with dizzy cupolas..." in the Louisiana swamp, Ms. Eberstadt tells us on page one. By page two it turns out that her mum's got bats in her belfry, for she and Jezebel actually live in New York's Upper East side in a brownstone with cocoa labels steamed off tins and arrayed on their kitchen walls like "hot fetishes." Eustacius - in addition to bearing a lovely name - is their illiterate Black manservant ("I reads between the lines") who "dishes out equal portions of gumbo and wisdom" in the absence of her effete father who has expatriated himself to Oxford, England's groves of academe. Precocious Jezebel is in love with Jem Chasm, the son of Prof. Chasm, who "grew up in hotel suites " with his mother, Bocanegra. After a brief infatuation with a teacher at the Brearly School she turns all her attention to Jem and actually turns up at Oxford.

Jem is as cruel and beautiful as Jezebel, and for 18 year olds they are pretty astoundingly jaded already. Jem had more money than he knew what to do with, and so obviously has she, but the money takes a backseat here to Jezebel's worshipful, idolatrous love for Jem, besides, money is filthy lucre in Ms. Eberstadt's worldview, unlike all these other 80s and 90s writers who speak of nothing but. Yes this is heady stuff, and the plot is anything but linear. Jem, her love-object grew up on steamers, trains, inside limousine and planes and above all in world-class hotels: sired by a doughty professor who married the daughter of a Chiapan Millionaire.

To me this book is brilliant. I love Ms. Eberstadt's writing and I prefer "Low Tide" to both "Daughters" and "Isaac's Devils" because it is so pure. In telling a simple story she can bring in such understanding and she really knows her class from the inside out; she's an intellectual deb - a rara avis indeed - and one with a conscience (read Daughters) and a vocabulary that won't stop; with something along the lines of a Jamesian amalgam of British and American English, she's adept at both description and metaphor without a jot of overdoing it. One of my faves. Would she publish another book soon!

Except Jezebel, her characters are sort of spectral forms and outlines of flesh and blood beings. They are as polished and poised as the world they inhabit, which adds to the overall sparceness of "Low Tide," like an exquisite minimalist painting.

To say the novel is about a father's lack of tenacity to pursue his dream in life is a bit simplistic to my thinking. Eberstadt, a brilliant talent with keen and broad intellect scope, creates a small range of characters; Sam & Mattie and their sons Issac and Taylor around which to present what truly is an astounding mental prowess; her own. Eberstadt, like Melville, manages to provide insight into thousands of prismatic subjects along the way: the light of her tortured soul just will not go out. Isaac, overweight, over-educated and unhappy, reminded me in some ways of Ignatius Reilly, of O'Toole's A Confederacy of Dunces. (The misunderstood genius in love with a chivalrous past stuck in 20th century redneck America; be it New Orleans or as in this case, Vermont). However, it is Eberstadt that is so compelling; Eberstadt the omniscient narrator, weaver of incredibly perceptive description, psychological insight and above all derisive wit gone mad. The book is to say the least intellectually stimulating even if the actual story is not in itself frightfully compelling, a boy-genius falling in love with an spinster teacher. It is the telling of the tale itself and all the author's breadth and depth makes it a must read. I really liked this book and can't wait to read Low Tide. If the author reads this review; please, please autograph my tome!!!

I was so disappointed in this book, especially after reading so many wonderful things about it in every magazine that reviewed it. Fortunately, I waited until it ended up in the remainder bin, and only paid $7 for it. The characters are shallow and one-dimensional, and the writing is so overwrought and pretentious; I found it painful to read. Ms. Eberstadt has no understanding of what it is to be an artist. She writes from the viewpoint of a rich society girl. I couldn't get through the book; I stopped halfway through in disgust.

This was one of the most poorly written books I've ever read. After the first few pages, I got out my red pen to mark all of the grammatical errors. Then, when that became such a burden, and my husband got tired of my elbow in his ribs and my screech, "Listen to THIS!" - I gave it up!

I really wanted to package it and mail it right back to the author. It was a terribly disappointing holiday read and I felt cheated after having read the glowing reviews.

I want my money back!

A captivating look at New York City and the characters that made it what it was during the art boom of the 1980's this book was enjoyable, insightful, and knowledgeable. It read very quickly, and when I was finished, I wanted to pick it up and read it all over again.