For decades, Keith McNally was the man who curated the rooms where New York’s most influential figures felt at home. As the visionary behind the Odeon, Balthazar, and Cafe Luxembourg, he didn’t just open restaurants; he built the social architecture of the city. But for McNally, the most challenging project of his life wasn’t a bistro—it was his own story.
That journey, chronicled in his best-selling memoir I Regret Almost Everything, has now earned him a prestigious literary honor. McNally has been named the winner of the Gotham Book Prize, an award dedicated to works that capture the essence of New York City. The win comes with a $50,000 purse, a sum that McNally—with his characteristic wit—notes is significantly more lucrative than the prizes he didn’t win.
The memoir is not a polished corporate history of a hospitality empire. Instead, it is a raw, often bruising account of success and survival. It begins not with the glamour of the 1980s, but with a suicide attempt in 2018, following two strokes that left McNally struggling with impaired speech and movement. It is this vulnerability that judges say made the book an undeniable winner.
From Oyster Shucker to the ‘Go-Go ’80s’
McNally’s ascent in New York is a classic immigrant success story, though he eschews the typical tropes of the genre. Born in working-class London to a stevedore, he arrived in New York in 1975 in his early 20s. He began his career at One Fifth, a restaurant near Washington Square Park in Greenwich Village, where he was hired not for his culinary skill, but to shuck oysters.
His rise was rapid. Through a combination of intuition and an innate ability to read people, he moved from the oyster bar to maître d’ and eventually to general manager. Along the way, he cultivated a circle of friends and patrons who would define the era’s cultural zeitgeist, including Saturday Night Live producer Lorne Michaels and magazine editor Anna Wintour. In a moment of self-deprecating honesty in his book, McNally recalls that Wintour was the only customer he ever cooked for, though he admits he “made a hash of the eggs Benedict.”
The opening of the Odeon in 1980 marked a turning point for both McNally and the city. While the first two nights were rocky, by the third, the restaurant had become a magnet for the city’s creative and social elite. As Steven Kurutz noted in The New York Times, the Odeon became the epicenter where the “go-go ’80s played out,” serving as a backdrop for the decade’s excesses and ambitions.
The Confidence of Rock Bottom
Despite his success in the dining room, McNally spent years avoiding the blank page. He admits that a lack of confidence kept him from pursuing writing, though he dabbled in mediocre articles and a few film scripts. It took a profound personal collapse to break that barrier.
Following the strokes that compromised his physical and verbal abilities, McNally reached a breaking point in 2018. He explains that it was only after his suicide attempt that he found the “confidence to write unself-consciously.” By stripping away the need for perfection and the fear of judgment, he was able to produce a memoir that is as accountable as it is self-aware.
Bradley Tusk, one of the political operatives who co-founded the Gotham Book Prize in 2021, noted that this authenticity was key to the book’s victory. “I like the idea of rewarding someone for being as self-aware and as accountable as McNally sounds,” Tusk said. He further described the work as a “New York story” that mirrors the nonfiction feel of a Jay McInerney novel.
A Literary and Financial Victory
The Gotham Book Prize is not only a mark of prestige but a significant financial windfall. In a series of emails, McNally joked that he regretted not winning a Pulitzer Prize or a National Book Award, claiming he didn’t know memoirs were eligible. “If I’d been aware of this, I would have bribed the judges,” he quipped, though he later clarified the comment was a joke.
The financial disparity between the awards is stark, making the Gotham prize a particularly sweet victory for the former restaurateur.
| Award | Prize Amount |
|---|---|
| Gotham Book Prize | $50,000 |
| Pulitzer Prize | $15,000 |
| National Book Award | $10,000 |
The connection to Jay McInerney, author of the seminal New York novel Bright Lights, Massive City, is more than just a stylistic comparison. The Odeon, McNally’s crown jewel, famously appeared on the cover of McInerney’s book, cementing the restaurant’s status as a symbol of the city’s nocturnal energy.
The Legacy of a ‘Non-Restaurateur’
Even with the award, McNally remains skeptical of the labels attached to him. He expresses a particular dislike for the word “restaurateur,” calling it “too French and too pretentious.” For a man who rose from the docks of London to the heights of Manhattan society, such labels often feel disconnected from the gritty reality of the work.
The judging process for this year’s prize was notably decisive. McNally’s memoir secured eight of the 12 judges’ votes in the first round, a landslide that reflects the book’s resonance with those who understand the complexities of New York life.
Note: This article discusses themes of suicide and mental health. If you or someone you know is struggling or in crisis, help is available. Call or text 988 or chat at 988lifeline.org in the US and Canada, or call 111 in the UK.
The formal celebration of McNally’s achievement will take place at the Museum of the City of New York on May 28, where he will be officially presented with the award in the city he spent half a century defining.
Do you have a favorite New York memory tied to the Odeon or Balthazar? Share your stories in the comments below.
