“The pyramids of Newark...”
To date the only Philip Roth I've ever read is Our Gang (hilarious but, I suspect, enormously different than the rest of his work), but this paragraph from American Pastoral has me thinking I should read more:
On the east side of the street, the dark old factories—Civil War factories, foundries, brassworks, heavy-industrial plants blackened from the chimneys pumping smoke for a hundred years—were windowless now, the sunlight sealed out with brick and mortar, their exits and entrances plugged with cinderblock. These were the factories where people had lost fingers and arms and got their feet crushed and their faces scalded, where children once labored in the heat and the cold, the nineteenth-century factories that churned up people and churned out goods and now were unpierceable, airtight tombs. It was Newark that was entombed there, a city that was not going to stir again. The pyramids of Newark: as huge and dark and hideously impermeable as a great dynasty’s burial edifice has every historical right to be.
Paul, I'm open to suggestions - but message me, because the comments function here is still kaput.