In April I spent a week in Sunset Park, a Brooklyn neighborhood and the title of a Paul Auster novel. I walked around the city's namesake park, where you can see kissing couples obstructing the jagged faraway profile of Manhattan.
Over the last several months, a string of sexual assaults shook the Park Slope, Sunset Park, and Windsor Terrace communities. This is an important moment to reflect on the plague of violence against women, in Brooklyn and beyond.
Sunset Park is one or two subway stops further away from Manhattan than Park Slope, so it's gentrifying accordingly. It is a less pretentious area, but, then again, it has less to be pretentious about.