As I mentioned more than a few posts ago, I had been binge-reading the works of Rex Stout--the cases of master detective Nero Wolfe and his aide-de-camp, Archie Goodwin. Having finished the 46 titles Stout completed before his death, I began reading the novels by Robert Goldsborough, the writer authorized by Stout's family to continue the series.
In general, I have enjoyed Goldsborough's work; he manages to maintain Archie's "voice" as the narrator, come up with interesting plots in Stout's vein, and simultaneously keep the stories rooted in the time and place in which they were written, just as Stout did. (Although Stout never allowed Wolfe or Archie or any of their close associates to age, the world did change around them: The Dodgers and Giants moved west, the Mets became Archie's favored team, etc.)
But near the beginning of the sixth novel in the series, The Silver Spire, I was temporarily knocked out of the narrative by some clearly invented geography. As most of you know, I was born and raised on Staten Island in New York City. This novel revolves around a mega-church supposedly located on the Island. No such church has ever existed, but neither does Wolfe's brownstone (the address generally given for it would place in the middle of the Hudson River). No, the problem is where on the Island Goldsborough put it--a 20-minute walk from the ferry terminal, in the hills of St. George and New Brighton.
Here's a slightly edited version of Archie's description of his trip from the ferry to the church:
After consulting the directions, I got myself squared away, heading south up Schuyler Street—and I do mean up.
If I ever knew how hilly the island was, I’d long since forgotten. In ten minutes, I was out of—and above—the small business district and into tree-shaded residential blocks….I followed winding streets, all of which ran uphill, until, breathing hard, I reached a large open area that was level. In the center of this clearing, at least a block away, stood the Tabernacle of the Silver Spire….
….The clearing turned out to a parking lot—acres of blacktop, crisscrossed with yellow lines…
And here's a map of the area, with Archie's presumed path marked. Unsure of which direction he would have turned on reaching the end of Schuyler Street, I indicated two different paths, one in red, the other in blue.
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