An idyllic story about 1890s New York. The girl reminded me of Phoebe Caulfield because of her class and not being a snob (but not because of roller skates, because the rollerskating girl in Catcher is anonymous). An idyllic story, that is, for someone of that class: it would be decades before there were books about the Italian immigrant boy who tends a fruit stand, instead of just about the wealthy little girl who befriends the boy.
Why haven't I known about E.L. Doctorow before, besides Ragtime? I really enjoyed this story, in spite of the narrator, whose manner I hated. There is some line I feel like I want to draw between this and American Pastoral and Underworld, but I think it's not there to be drawn. I guess I thought, because of his best-known title, that Doctorow was from much earlier in the century than he is.