Normal people say, I can’t imagine feeling so bad I’d genuinely want to die. I do not try and explain that it isn’t that you want to die. It is thaNormal people say, I can’t imagine feeling so bad I’d genuinely want to die. I do not try and explain that it isn’t that you want to die. It is that you know you are not supposed to be alive, feeling a tiredness that powders your bones, a tiredness with so much fear. The unnatural fact of living is something you must eventually fix.
I have no words. This book broke my robot heart and I cried the ugly cry for nearly all of the day while I was reading it. But it was also laugh out loud funny at times and I’m also maybe a little concerned that Meg Mason has some sort of nanny cam situation set up in my house because I think I might be Martha.
This one resonated with me on an entirely uncomfortable personal level ha-ha. I have no clue if others would have the same reaction as I did, but I would love to find out . . .
“Little daily miracles, illuminations, something-something, Woolf matches. Do that. Do what Virginia says.” ...more
I know Goodreads gets a lot of flak from readers and authors alike, but this is a place where I met a person who became a real-life bestie and where II know Goodreads gets a lot of flak from readers and authors alike, but this is a place where I met a person who became a real-life bestie and where I’ve connected with dozens of others who I truly consider buddies despite the fact that we most likely will never meet in real life. I have no recollection of how Jan B came to be my friend, but she has been a treasured addition ever since the day it happened. Not only do we share the same opinions on most of our reading selections, but she steers me towards books I would have never heard of otherwise sometimes too. That was the case here.
I really should have not enjoyed this book. Infidelity is a plot device that just never seems to work out well for me. This one featured not only a couple whose relationship began with the two of them cheating, but also a question of whether the second wife was engaging in new dalliances, along with the husband thinking the grass may have been greener in his previous life and considering a potential affair back with wife number one too.
And Audra, the second wife???? Oh my lord if I ever had to experience her in a not fictional setting my reaction would probably be this at best . . . .
Yet somehow she will go down in the history books as one of my most favorite characters of all time. Oh my god her free association type of ramble speech was so delightful – despite the fact that she would clearly be an energy vampire to an introvert like me.
This was another story that didn’t have a super clear conflict/resolution type of approach but more of just being a fly on the wall of an upper-middle class couple trying to raise a special needs child while keeping their shit together. I ended up with ZERO highlights simply due to the fact that I was not willing to pause my reading even for one second in order to make any sort of notation. Also, the fact that nearly the entire thing had me in stitches so the end result would have ended up with me being sued for copyright infringement when I offered practically the entire book up as an example of why I loved it so much.
I’m already on the waiting list for this author’s new release and I will certainly be picking up Single, Carefree, Mellow as well. This one gets every star.
This book. THIS. BOOK. It’s the antidote to 2020. When everything else has been a dumpster fire for months on end, The House in the Cerulean Sea came along and is guaranteed to turn your frown upside down.
The story here is of Linus Baker. For 17 years he has worked for the Department in Charge of Magical Youth (DICOMY, if you will) investigating various orphanages to ensure the children are being properly cared for and not abused. He studies, presents his findings to Extremely Upper Management, and moves on to the next. Simply put, his life is . . . . grey. But all that changes when he gets sent to a remote island for an investigation and meets Talia . . . .
“I am evil incarnate,” the dastardly voice said. “I am the blight upon the skin of this world. And I will bring it to its knees. Prepare for the End of Days! Your time has come, and the rivers will run with the blood of the innocents!”
Talia sighed. “He’s such a drama queen.”
As I said above, this is the book we all need in 2020. It’s about hope and change and home and friends and family. It's about love. And acceptance. It will make you laugh and it will make you cry ugly happy tears. I haven’t had an experience like this since Harry Potter (and yes, I know JKR has become the “she who shall not be named” - but it’s the only comparison I could possibly make). This is a book that breaks down all the boundaries regarding not really reading a particular genre or not being what you think is probably the target age demographic. It’s a book for everyone. It's going to be so high up on the banned or challenged books list next year and that is the best freaking compliment I think a book can get! Children should read it because it delivers an important message in a very not “in your face” type of way. Adults should read it to reconfirm the majority of the world’s population aren’t garbage humans. It’s the best thing I’ve read all year and will easily take the top slot no matter what else I pick up in these next few months. It makes you feel hopeful. It makes you want to live the way John Lewis told us all to live . . . .
“Change often starts with the smallest of whispers. Like-minded people building up to a roar.”
“The things we fear the most are often the things we should fear the least. It’s irrational, but it’s what makes us human. And if we’re able to conquer those fears, then there is nothing we’re not capable of.”
“To change the minds of many, you have to first start with the minds of few.”
“Hate is loud, but I think you’ll learn it’s because it’s only a few people shouting, desperate to be heard. You might not ever be able to change their minds, but so long as you remember you’re not alone, you will overcome.”
“We are who we are not because of our birthright, but because of what we choose to do in this life. It cannot be boiled down to black and white. Not when there is so much in between.”
IT. IS. PERFECTION.
“You’re a good man, Linus Baker. I’m so very pleased to know you.”
T.J. Klune, look what you’ve made indeed. Every Star....more
Musicians release “Greatest Hits” compilations all the effing time. Why can’t an essayist do the same?
Obviously this being the “Best Of” means there is not new material (that being said, at 400 pages he really gives you your money's worth). For a fan like me it was interesting to see which submissions David considered to be his best (and I hate to say, but I really don’t agree with his opening of the book with his fictional stuff because those aren’t always my fave). But this might be a great jumping off point for people new to my Darling David. You get to not only experience his humor with laugh-out-loud entries about The Rooster, the Sea Section, learning how to Talk Pretty One Day, Santa’s Six to Eight Black Men and more, but also his heart as he talks about his family (particularly his parents and deceased sister). As always, I highly recommend listening to the audio if given the opportunity because his delivery adds a whole ‘notha level to the experience (and this one includes some of his live performances like when he read at Carnegie Hall).
Bottom line is I am a Sedaris completionist and I will read and/or listen (in this case both) to anything he releases. Even if it’s stuff I’ve already read before. ...more
Are y’all superfans enough to get that reference or did I just waste a crapton of my time making this gif for no reason????
Whatever. Worth it! Especially if it might mean I get an advance copy of the next book too : )
When I “wished” for this over on NetGalley, I figured I was doing so along with twelve gazillion others and never expected to get an early shot at this latest release in the You franchise. Then I had one of those seriously first worldy sorts of moments where I wanted to message the powers that be and tell them . . . .
Not because I think I’m important but because I admitted loving Joe back when it was still a taboo thing to do. I mean, unless Kepnes really shit the bed there’s slim to nil chance that I wouldn’t kinda love this. And then?????
I knew this was going to be a winner immediately when the format returned to the second person narration as was found in the original. The first book followed “You” after Joe set his sights on his dreamgirl – culminating in the realization that maybe their relationship wasn’t just meant to be. But then he found “Love” and although there were some bumps in the road, things were going as well as can be expected with our favorite antihero right up until the very end. This time around Joe just wants to find the one. And it appears he has – he just has to be patient and make sure they are on the same page so no more incidents occur. It’s a shame everybody and their brother in the small town of “Cedar Cove” seems to be trying to cockblock him!
Some things you should know about this book. It is not a standalone. You absolutely have to read the others and be willing to commit to the crazy one hundred percent. If that’s not your bag, I get it because I’m not a fan of reading a series either. This one is an exception to the rule and in an even rarer turn of events if you follow me here you’ll have noticed I did a re-read of numbers 1 and 2 to catch up with my old pal because I love him that much. Also note this is a sloooooooooooooooooooooow roller. Good, bad or indifferent - You has become a television series and since I believe things are all caught up now (sorry – not a T.V. watcher – Penn Badgley makes a hot Joe, but hour long fictional programs bore me when I can read an entire book in a few), this definitely gives the impression that it is now being written for an instant morph into weekly episodes with multiple “a ha” and “WTF?!?!?” moments throughout the novel to drive the action. It may not be for everyone, but if you are a freak in the sheets there’s a solid chance that you love being stuck in Joe’s head and don’t mind just meandering along through his days with him until you get to the big reveals. And if you truly “get” Joe, you’ll find yourself continually amused with the dark humor contained within these pages. You’ll also find an ending that leaves you thirrrrrrrrrrrsty for the final installment in the series and once again falling to your knees at the altar of the Kepnes because she is such a delightful weirdo!
Take my rating with a grain – or a bucket – of salt. I could give it 4 rather than 5, but fuck it. I’m here for the long haul and I love every G.D. second of it. From the LOLing at completely inappropriate circumstances to the shouting out loud and startling my children with “I’VE READ THAT!” when he references books such as Last Night at the Lobster or Fashion Victim. Joe is my person . . . .
Even though I totally loved A Ladder to the Sky. (Also, nearly 600 pages ain’t usually my jam.) But oh Mylanta. What a story! Cyril is officially my new best friend (to me he was a fictionalized David Sedaris and there is ZERO I will ever not love about that), and while this may not be a book that sucks everyone in, I don’t want to hear about it if it didn’t work for you because lockdown is makin’ me a little stabby and this story made me feel all the feels and now I have a raging book hangover. All the Stars....more
I ran through Tropper’s books in short order quite a few years ago. Then this one was setFind all of my reviews at: http://52bookminimum.blogspot.com/
I ran through Tropper’s books in short order quite a few years ago. Then this one was set to become a movie so I read it again. In what could only be called an end of days scenario, me (the not-a-re-reader) found myself in a situation a couple of days before Christmas . . . . .
Rendering me pretty much not only housebound, but restricted to the room closest to the bathroom. And despite having a plethora of books on the Kindle, I didn’t much have the mental capacity to start something new and retain any information. Plus, it was Christmas and nothing says Christmas like dysfunctional families so I downloaded the Foxmans from the library website (literally I was too lazy to go downstairs and obtain my own hard copy version and the thought of flipping pages to my fever-addled brain was the equivalent of some serious cardiovascular exercise). Basically . . . . .
And yes, these people feel like old friends to me at this point. I have loved everything Tropper has ever written and I’m a huge fangirl. I love dysfunction. I love the loveable loser. I love melancholy comedy. He delivers everything I could ask for . . . . except trailers containing meth labs exploding. He doesn’t write about that. ...more
If you know me, you know I was raised to believe that you don’t talk about politics or reFind all of my reviews at: http://52bookminimum.blogspot.com/
If you know me, you know I was raised to believe that you don’t talk about politics or religion outside the family home if you want to maintain relationships. That being made clear, if you feel the need to defriend/unfollow me for posting something up about this book, I’ll have zero problem with it.
I will fully admit I have wanted to get my hands on a copy of Shade ever since I heard about it. I will also do something I never thought I’d do and disclose to you that I did not vote for Obama. Either time. (Just in case people were starting to gather their pitchforks and torches to tell me what a “Libtard” I am.) Not that it’s really anyone’s business, but I’ll even give you the reason. The first time was simply due to the fact that I’m from Illinois – born and bred and there has been nothing but corruption in that state my entire life. I wasn’t about to vote for a Junior Senator who may have been as phony as a three dollar bill just because he knocked my socks off with one speech and Oprah told me to. The next time was for the simple fact that I consider myself socially liberal and fiscally conservative and so does Mitt Romney. And that’s all I’m going to say about that. (Nice knowing some of you.)
If you know anything about Pete Souza you know he’s not necessarily just another “snowflake” either. Before photographing the Obama White House he did the same for Reagan. Now, Souza most certainly was an Obama fan, but that doesn’t negate the near necessity of releasing his little slice of history. This book shows the complete mockery electing a narcissistic, mentally unstable reality star has made of the Presidency. While I may not have agreed with all of Obama’s ideas and/or policies, I never doubted that he knew just how important his role as President was. Trump??? Well . . . I think this image says just about everything . . . . .
This book is full of examples – both in the form of Tweets and “fake” news – demonstrating just how out of touch with the pulse of the nation the current President is. No matter your politics, it should serve as a reminder that the next time you go to the polls (whether it’s to pull red, blue or other) you should try to vote for someone who at least attempts to . . . .
A reviewer copy was provided by Little Brown in exchange for this review. I have thumbed through this enough times at the local bookstore to know that it would receive 5 Stars so the freebie had zero bearing on my rating....more
I think I may have broken free of the endless Sedaris loop which I have had playing in myFind all of my reviews at: http://52bookminimum.blogspot.com/
I think I may have broken free of the endless Sedaris loop which I have had playing in my car, but I’m sure I’ll return to it eventually. If for no other reason than to hear about . . . . .
I will tell you, audio is the ONLY way to go when it comes to stories about the youngest Sedaris – be it David or Amy’s impersonation, you’ll be hard-pressed not to look like a hysterical maniac if driving while listening.
When my sisters and I eventually left home, it seemed like a natural progression–young adults shifting from one environment to another. While our departures had been relatively painless, Paul’s was like releasing a domestic animal into the wild. He knew how to plan a meal but displayed a remarkable lack of patience when it came time for the actual cooking. Frozen dinners were often eaten exactly as sold, the Salisbury steak amounting to a stickless meat Popsicle. I phoned one night just as he was leaning a family pack of frozen chicken wings against the back door. He’d forgotten to defrost them and was now attempting to stomp the solid mass into three six-inch portions, which he’d force into his toaster oven.
I heard the singular sound of boot against crystallized meat and listened as my brother panted for breath. “Goddamned … fucking … chicken … wings.”
I called again the following evening and was told that after all that work, the chicken had been spoiled. It tasted like fish, so he threw it away and called it a night. A few hours later, having decided that spoiled chicken was better than no chicken at all, he got out of bed, stepped outside in his underpants, and proceeded to eat the leftovers directly from the garbage can.
I was mortified. “In your underpants?”
“Damned straight,” he said. “Rooster ain’t getting dressed up to eat no fish-assed-tasting chicken.”
I cannot imagine a book that will end up beating Where the Crawdads Sing for my best read of 2018. Truly, this was a case where the entire thing was practically perfect in every way for me (the only minor quibble I had was with the snippets of poetry, but that’s because I hate poetry). Due to the fact that I am so absolutely strung out and hungover from this book, I’m going to do words even less well than I usually do.
The story here starts in 1969 with a dead body – and then it immediately timehops back to 1952. It’s there you meet Kya on the day her mother has decided to up and leave the family and the marsh behind. Kya’s siblings follow their mother’s footsteps in short order – as does her father eventually. It’s then that Kya becomes known as “the Marsh Girl” and the reader works their way back to finding out what exactly happened to that dead fella.
This was a true genre bender that had something for nearly everyone – coming of age, family strife, first love, first loss, and dare I forget – a potential murder. It was a modern day To Kill A Mockingbird and I feel so honored to have been approved for an advanced copy.
If you’re looking for an epic tale that spans over five decades, look no further than . . . .
“Way out yonder, where the crawdads sing.”
All the Stars there are to Star.
ARC provided by NetGalley in exchange for an honest (*cough blubbering cough*) review. Thank you, NetGalley!...more
I was lucky enough to receive an advanced copy of Calypso from Little Brown, but KNEW I would have to hear the audio version in order for my experiencI was lucky enough to receive an advanced copy of Calypso from Little Brown, but KNEW I would have to hear the audio version in order for my experience to be complete. I started this last Friday on my commute and remained plugged in on the way to and throughout my youngest's double-header on Saturday. I'm not a real chatty person to begin with (my husband even bought me a "Do Not Disturb" sun hat to wear to games in order to enable my introversion) - but even without the hat the gods smiled upon me and I was left alone with my earbuds until the entire book was finished.
This morning I got in the car and started it all over again from the beginning. There just aren't any words. Is it possible to feel nostalgic for a family you don't even belong to? At this point I feel I've been allowed to be such a part of David's life that Amy, Lisa, Gretchen, Tiffany (rest her soul) and "The Rooster" . . . . errrr, I mean "The Juicester" (who has managed to become my favorite) are somehow all related to me as well. If you've never experienced Sedaris, I don't recommend starting here. Instead I'd suggest you pick up Dress You Family In Corduroy and Denim or When You Are Engulfed In Flames. You'll know right away if you are a fan or not. If so, you'll run through his works in short order and find a giant tribe of middle-aged women who will embrace you into our fold waiting for you at the finish line. If not, you might want to keep that to yourself - pre-menopausal hormones can be a real bitch.
ORIGINAL "REVIEW:"
Because unlike what Bobby Bouché's momma might have you believe . . . .
To say that this is a biased review might be the understatement of the decade. Many of yoFind all of my reviews at: http://52bookminimum.blogspot.com/
To say that this is a biased review might be the understatement of the decade. Many of you are already familiar with my love for the Sedaris family. It began with Amy and Strangers With Candy before I discovered her brother was a writer. Having now read all but one of his collections – and more recently re-listening to several of them during my commute – I have no shame in admitting I am completely smitten with every single one of the Sedaris clan. So much so that when a conversation between two people who didn’t enjoy Sedaris popped up on my feed last week I practically had to cut my fingers off to not interject with a "butbutbutbut" and nearly had myself convinced that the parties must be aliens and I should probably report them to the proper authorities. Then I remembered that people are allowed to have opinions and since David himself is probably well aware that he’s not everyone’s cuppa I should resign myself to that fact too. All that being said, I obviously need mental help and my rating should probably be taken with a grain dumptruck of salt.
CalypsoIS good, though. A stand out, even. If you are a fan this should rise to the top of the ranks. With a reoccurring theme of visits with family (and Carol) at home in Sussex as well as at the “Sea Section” beach house in North Carolina, Sedaris delivers both humorous as well as poignant memories in spades – and even though I know I’m not supposed to quote an advanced copy as anything I was privileged enough to read could still end up on the cutting room floor, this little line sums things up perfectly . . . .
“Ours is the only club I’ve ever wanted to be a member of, so I couldn’t imagine quitting.”
Oh how I would love to be a fly on the wall during their “club meetings.”
By this point in my life I’ve actually received numerous offers by friends to attend one of David Sedaris’ public readings which are put on pretty much yearly here by a local bookstore and held at a giant, beautiful, non-denominational church. While I’m flattered that people like me enough to voluntarily spend time with me without being paid to do so, my response is always no. First, because of other humans . . . .
At this point I don’t think I could settle for less than Thanksgiving at the Sea Section (I still agree with Paul that the Conch Sucker should have been the winner) on Emerald Isle (on the West side of the house where the visitors stay, of course - I’m not psycho). It is there we will binge-watch My 600-lb Life. Afterwards I will help dig a hole in the sand for the turkey deep fryer to sit in and make sure I have plenty of cash on hand to tip Amy while she performs my spa treatment after I kick alllllllll of their asses at Sorry.
I’m also fairly certain that I need a piece of driftwood art in my life like the one that will be featured on the cover . . . .
Being that I’m a hermit, I can’t say I’m much for movie going. I can’t say I’m much of a Find all of my reviews at: http://52bookminimum.blogspot.com/
Being that I’m a hermit, I can’t say I’m much for movie going. I can’t say I’m much of a television watcher either and when I do sit down in front of the boob tube to partake in some Househoes of Any City on the Planet highly educational program viewing, it’s usually on the DVR so I don’t even see commercials or film trailers. Occasionally my buddy Ron 2.0 or my husband point something out to me. Such was the case with Three Billboards and my husband shoving his cell phone in my face quite awhile back. I responded in my usual loving manner . . . .
Until he finally convinced me to just STFU and watch what he was showing me.
When I saw an update that someone was reading this “book” I continually begged the library to buy a copy of it until they finally broke down and did just that. Little did I know that it was the screenplay. If you don’t like screenplays, I can’t guarantee you’ll like this. If you’ve already watched the film, there is literally ZERO additional info in this book as it is the film in written format and that’s all it is. But if you’re like me, you only know what was provided to you in the trailer. Those things are that it features some of your absolute favorites that you have loved since she was a very pregnant police chief . . . .
I’m sure there’s some keyboard commando all primed and ready just waiting for a chance toFind all of my reviews at: http://52bookminimum.blogspot.com/
I’m sure there’s some keyboard commando all primed and ready just waiting for a chance to chime in about how “this isn’t Facebook” or “talk about books and don’t post stupid pictures.” To him/her/them I shall quote ol’ Bill himself and say . . . .
Fucketh off with thee!
Because I have read A Midsummer Night’s Dream and I’ve read it more than once. Originally I read it back in the stone age as a high schooler who opted for additional literature classes as electives rather than other selections such as “Home Ec” and asked for things like this for Christmas, which although unattractive still holds a prime location on the ‘puter desk . . . .
I’ve re-read it occasionally over the years because I enjoy the Shakespeare comedies *cough supernerd cough*. But I never loved it as much as I loved it last night when this happened . . . .
And my baby boy made his acting debut as Francis Flute in a modernized in music/wardrobe, but not in content version of A Midsummer Night's Dream. Yeah, this is a post that should probably go on Facebook, but I deleted that motherfucker and never looked back so you’re getting my proud momma moment here. Haters can eat a bag of weiners.
(Additional tidbit: Robin Goodfellow (a/k/a “Puck” to those of you in the know) was played by a girl and she kicked allllllllllllllllllllllllllllll of the ass.)
Here’s a dramatic reenactment of me in the car going to hell Wal-Mart with the husband whFind all of my reviews at: http://52bookminimum.blogspot.com/
Here’s a dramatic reenactment of me in the car going to hell Wal-Mart with the husband while simultaneously trying to describe my feelings about David Sedaris . . . .
Ever since I finally got brave enough to attempt audiobooks several months ago, I’ve methodically been revisiting Sedaris’ work. If you haven’t experienced his stuff before, I’m telling you audio is the way to go and Naked is David Sedaris at his best. From being a little kid with O.C.D. in a time where such behavior was dismissed as “quirky,” to a young man living at a nudist colony, to his mother’s cancer diagnosis - Naked will have you laughing until you cry and crying until you laugh. An added bonus is his sister Amy lends her voice to some of the selections as well. Talk about my fantasy audible ménage à trois. The only thing better than the Sedaris siblings? Their mother. Several years ago I used to wish I could be her when I grew up. Now I’m thinking my wish came true which I think is awesome, but probably terrifies my family. ...more
This one is kind of a rule breaker when it comes to being a “book” as it is not only in aFind all of my reviews at: http://52bookminimum.blogspot.com/
This one is kind of a rule breaker when it comes to being a “book” as it is not only in audio format (which grossly enough I have actually witnessed a friend be trolled over and told that Goodreads is for “real” books since humans are awful and the reason why everyone just can’t simply enjoy things), but it also is a hodgepodge of stories, magazine articles, diary entries, etc. that can’t be found in a single collection. To sum it up, this is the best of the best when it comes to David Sedaris and listening to him perform live was an entirely different experience than the regular, generic audio. The audience’s energy was nearly palpable – even through my car speakers. It almost makes me wish I wasn’t such a pussy and could sit in an auditorium with others for one of his readings comfortably. Almost.
If you, like me, were hesitant to dip your foot in the audio pool – collections like these are perfect since you can easily press pause after any of them if you too have a short commute. And if you haven’t yet met David Sedaris, there’s no better time than the present. Live At Carnegie Hall once again featured the laugh-out-loudable “Six To Eight Black Men” – a story first published in Esquire magazine in December of 2002. You can read it for free HERE or take a listen HERE. If you don’t like it, feel free to defriend me because I’m not sure I want to be associated with people like you : )
On the other hand, if you find yourself completely smitten by David’s charms, THIS is a little bonus to brighten your morning....more
Normally I listen to Holidays On Ice annually while I decorate the tree on November 1st. This year I didn't listen to anything wRE-READ DECEMBER 2023:
Normally I listen to Holidays On Ice annually while I decorate the tree on November 1st. This year I didn't listen to anything while decking the halls and when it was time for treat making other library patrons finally got wise and had all of the copies checked out so I went for this oldie but goodie as a backup. Seven hours and this entire book completed later, my family got to experience the least healthy shark cootchie board in the history of the world . . . .
I stand by the 5 Star rating - my love for David, Amy and especially "The Rooster" as well as the annual re-listening to the "6 to 8 Black Men." This one is a gem.
ORIGINAL REVIEW:
I think by this point it’s pretty much common knowledge that I love David Sedaris like a fat kid I love cake and, well . . . . .
Dress Your Family In Corduroy and Denim might be my favorite collection yet. I could seriously kick myself for not only not trying audiobooks before this Fall, but also for not thinking of collections like these as something that would fit into my short commute time perfectly. We’re talking true . . . .
Even while in a stupid ass Fiat rather than a Volkswagen since mine decided to die like a whore on the corner a few months back. And when work got like WAAAAAAY too worky the other day and I was afraid I was going to full out pull a Milton . . . .
I opted to schedule a mental health vacay day instead and went home to immerse myself in my favorite type of therapy this time of year – decorating Christmas trees (with an added bonus of listening to the soothing sounds of David’s dysfunction this go ‘round). Dress Your Family was a great blend of stories of the Sedaris children and parents (words cannot express how much I adore Sharon, their mother), the Sedaris children as adults, David and Hugh and everything in between. Thanks to the combo of some sort of sinus condition/basement dust I lugged upstairs along with the decorations, I laughed until I was overtaken by an emphysema-ish coughing fit/wheeze that may or may not have concluded with me urinating a bit on myself - and if THAT isn’t an endorsement, I don’t know what is.
I’ve put a hold on every other available Sedaris audio in order to get myself through the end of the year without (hopefully) causing bodily harm to anyone at work. Now I just have to deal with a cat who is terrified of Santa’s impending visit after hearing the story of “6 to 8 Black Men”. . . . .
No it isn’t. Read the story. Anyway, I keep telling him we don’t live in Amsterdam so he doesn’t have anything to worry about, but I think it’s pretty obvious by the look on his face that he doesn’t believe me . . . .
The moral of the story? You have to crawl through a lot of shit in life before you reach Zihuatanejo.
Uncle Stevie will always be known as the Master of Horror, but it’s my belief that his not-so-scary stuff is where he truly shines. Hands down my favorite story ever, that just so happened to be converted into one of my favorite films as well. If you’ve not yet experienced it, you’re missing out on what my husband and I have dubbed “getting Shawshanked.” It’s one of those films that you can’t help but pause on when scrolling through the channels on the boob tube “just for a second.” That second turns into watching whatever remains of the film, and quite possibly crying a time or two. The book spares the reader the heartbreak which is Brooks, while the film offers the best miscasting of all-time with this “red-haired Irishman” . . . .
If you would have told me a book about a quirky nine year old kid would end up being one of the best things I’ve ever read, I probably would have assumed you were smoking some wacky tobacky. But then I met Frank.
Frank comes to us via way of Alice – an assistant at a publishing house who has been assigned the potentially daunting task of being live-in help while reclusive author M.M. Banning writes her highly anticipated second novel . . . 30 years after writing her first. It’s a guarantee whatever Mimi churns out will be a bestseller, and that’s a good thing because courtesy of some swindling “investment advisor” she’s flat broke. She just needs to focus 100% of her energy on putting words on paper so someone needs to watch her son Frank.
In today’s world of labels, there are probably a ton of reviews trying to pinpoint exactly where Frank lands on the spectrum. Back in the dark ages when I was growing up, he would have simply been called “precocious” or “eccentric.” Once you spend a little time with Frank you’ll soon realize his personality and character traits are undefinable and there’s absolutely no reason to try and put a label on him.
This is one of those occasions when the book needs to do almost all of the talking so you realize what you’re missing out on by not letting Frank into your world as well . . . .
“What’s wrong with you?”
“The jury’s still out on that one,” Frank said.
Frank spends his days in top hats and tails and is “a devotee of film. Of mathematics, not so much.” You can’t touch his things – or him for that matter – but “that didn’t keep the kid from becoming an honorary citizen of my personal zip code.” He also “loved being bundled up and pressed against things; he was a big fan of tight spaces.” Humor is something that doesn’t come easily to him, so he prefers to be told “knock knock when you’re trying to make a joke” so he knows . . . .
“What else was there to say? His fingernails are dirty? He stumbled into our century through a wormhole in the space-time continuum? I’m worried he’ll julienne me in my sleep?”
Truly, what else is there to say? Let’s just give you a little taste of Frank so you can see for yourself how much you need him in your life . . . .
Like the time he decided to hitchhike home from school . . .
“I know it’s wrong to indulge in criminal activities, but I do like those black-and-white-striped suits and matching caps that convicts wear. They’d make excellent pajamas. Do they let you keep them once your time is served?”
“Convicts wear orange jumpsuits that zip up the front now. The cut is not slimming, and a redhead like you should steer clear of head-to-to orange,” I say.
“I will never hitchhike again.”
Or when the principal decided that Frank’s attire was a distraction that needed to be changed . . .
“Surely no one can want me to go out in public in a shirt meant to be worn as underwear.”
“Lots of kids wear T-shirts out in public and think nothing of it.”
“Lots of kids chase me around the playground, too, but that doesn’t make it right.”
Or when he returned to school after Christmas break with a whole new outlook . . . .
“Where are you going?” Frank asked.
“I’m walking you to class,” I said.
“That won’t be necessary,” he said. “This time I’m prepared for the worst.”
“You’re really brave, Frank,” I said. “I’m proud of you.”
“Thank you,” he said. “It’s easier to be brave when you’re carrying a knife.”
“Get back in the car.”
Of all the gin joints in all the world, I’m so glad Frank walked into mine . . .
“You need to fill the house up with more like him. You need to fill up the world.”
I am now so far behind in reviewing that all of my read-but-not-yet-reviewed selections Find all of my reviews at: http://52bookminimum.blogspot.com/
I am now so far behind in reviewing that all of my read-but-not-yet-reviewed selections can't fit on my home page. Bonus this go 'round is somehow I didn’t even manage to mark this one down as something I was reading at all (#failure).
But wait, you ain’t seen NUTTIN’ yet. Not only have I never read Dexter, but I have never seen an episode of the highly acclaimed television series either . . . .
Since I am so late to this party, this won’t be much of a review (so unusual for me, right?). Instead, it will probably read like a love letter to my Darling, Dreamy Dexter . . . .
In case you too have recently emerged from cave dwelling and now mingle with the masses, the story here is of Dexter Morgan. His day job is in the forensics department with the Miami police force (specialty blood splatter - come to momma), but it’s what he does off the clock that makes things real interesting . . . .
“What are you?” Father Donovan whispered. “The beginning,” I said. “And the end. Meet your Unmaker, Father.”
Some of you might be thinking “not a man of the cloth?!?!?!” To which I say OH YES A MAN OF THE CLOTH. See, this is one of those priests that you sometimes see on the nightly news who totally had it coming to him. Such is the case with all of Dexter’s victims. You see, a superbadawful happened to Dexter when he was a wee little boy. When the Morgan family took lil’ Dex in as a foster child, pops Harry realized pretty early on that there was something off about the boy . . . .
“I’ve been expecting this. What happened to you when you were a little kid has shaped you . . . But you can channel it. Control it. Choose – . . . choose what …. or who … you kill . . . There are plenty of people who deserve it, Dex.”
So that’s it. Dexter solves crimes by day and rids Florida of human waste by night. He’s my lobster because . . . . .
We’re in love and we’re going to get married. You’re all invited to the wedding. Hopefully there won’t be a hurricane in the middle of the ceremony . . . .
Kelly (and the Book Boar)
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