That love means different things to different people is no surprise to anyone who's ever lived in New York, where the love affair residents have with their city is reminiscent of those confusing relationships in which sane, level-headed people refuse to leave their abusive spouses. Daniel Drennan, a New York resident for the past decade or so, is well aware of this unique strain of weird urban dependency, the tensions and releases of which flow through every line of The New York Diaries. Drennan's witty stream-of-consciousness style provides the perfect voice for this collection of personal essays on almost every NYC-relevant subject, from Brooklyn to brunch to the subway system to rodents. Always there are the city's inhabitants, whom Drennan portrays in beautiful little vignettes as some of the last true individuals in America, a quality which gives them both their legendary vitality and the capacity to be lonely among millions of others. In the book's first and last essays, which attempt to deal with the question of why Drennan stays in such a dirty, expensive, status-conscious place, he gives us a glimpse of an answer: because New York is America's last true city, a place rich with wonder and possibilities. And because, well, it's New York. Anyone with any level of familiarity with or curiosity about New York living must read this beautiful little book.