The Last Lecture by Randy Pausch

Okay, this was a book club's holiday pick for an uplifting story. They didn't like my pick from last year, David Sedaris' Holidays on Ice because it was "too dark." But, assuming my news is up to date, David Sedaris didn't die of cancer. Go figure.

It's not without it's charm, and there are some decent pieces of advice in here, but overall I would say it's aptly titled. Listening to it in audiobook format is kind of like taking a long car trip with your dad right after you did something dumb, like burning down a chicken coop or running with a screwdriver and falling on it and puncturing your lung. He sort of goes on and on about the right way to do things, dad-style. He makes a good point about him being a lecturer and therefore the lecture is his final act, but I would say that's why you should just watch the original lecture on Youtube. It's not as polished, but I think it's a closer representation of what he did. Plus, that way you don't have to read these awkward descriptions of physical things he did during the lecture.

The topic of his lecture being "Achieving Your Childhood Dreams" was also a little unappealing to me, as that would mean I would either be currently testing water slides, which seems hazardous, or be a ninja turtle, which involves being exposed to mutagen ooze, which seems equally hazardous.

Something he left out of the lecture but mentions a bit in the book is his religious beliefs and ties. He doesn't lecture on them so much, but does mention what a great help the church can be in these tough times. He's probably right, the church and its ideas must be comforting when you're on your death bed. But he didn't mention them in the original lecture, and I think his instinct was right in that case. Anyone can talk about the church, and this was his opportunity to give a talk that no one else could give. No need to waste it talking about the most-debated topic of all time.

This book brings up the really interesting point of whether the circumstances surrounding a book change our feelings about it. Does this book get more gravitas because we know the guy was dying, and he did in fact die about a year after the lecture? Does a Charles Bukowski poem mean more because we know he lived every line? Does a Raymond Carver story change if we know which parts are drawn from real life and which parts are invented?

A writer talking about fiction said that people think writing is a way of confronting issues, when in fact it's often a way of avoiding confronting things head on. You can use style to work your way around your main issues, and if you came at them head-on you'd end up destroying yourself. I think there's a lot of truth to that. I don't think a lot of effective prose is written from a place where authors have the answers to their own personal issues.

That said, I don't know that the circumstances surrounding a particular work are all that important. Raymond Carver writes a lot about poor and middle class folks, which he was, but he was also very well-educated. Denis Johnson writes with an easy, very blue collar feel, but he holds an MFA from Iowa. I'm not by any means attacking them or their writing. Both are excellent writers. But what I'm saying is that I think that Carver growing up the way he did doesn't make his writing good, it just confirms what we suspect already.

James Frey, a personality I find myself talking about often, is another good one to discuss. People were disappointed by his lies or omissions or additions or whatever you want to call them. But truthfully, I think he wrote a couple excellent books, and the space separating the fiction and non-fiction shelves is so small that I could care less. But, as evidenced in his case, the circumstances surrounding a book DO matter to a lot of people.

I think that's the case with the Last Lecture as well. I honestly do not think it would be the freight train of the self-help-ish genre that it is if it weren't for the fact that we all know what a labor of love it was for Randy Pausch, his final act. As a part of the whole story, it works. But as something to read, it doesn't offer a whole lot, not a whole book's worth, of good, sound advice.

Three Books About Writing

Here smashed together are three books about writing.

There's probably some truth to the idea that books about writing are a waste of time because whenever you're reading a book about writing, you're not writing something. It's kind of like how for every book about management you own, you're probably 5% shittier at management. Because if you knew what you were doing, how many books would you have to read about it?

And I read these. So hopefully I've been successful at convincing you I know dick about writing, which is my main qualification for blogging.
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Elmore Leonard's 10 Rules of Writing

This book takes about three minutes to read through. Which is kind of what makes it work.

The book itself is kind of a handsome devil with a leather outer binding on the spine and thick, cardstock pages with illustrations on the inside. The back cover even suggests that it makes a great gift for readers and writers, which might b true. It might make a better gift than it does a read.

That said, the advice is all good stuff. Basic, but good. You certainly get a lot of stuff like, "Don't talk about the weather. Unless you're Barry Lopez." Leonard has a good set of rules, and without killing the point, mentions that the rules will be broken, citing specific respectable authors who break one or more of the rules with the regularity of a vegetarian drinking a 2-liter of Metamucil.

His main rule, and probably the best, is "If it sounds like writing, I rewrite it."

Good gift. If you're curious about the rules, you could stand and read the whole thing in no time and then decide on it.
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The Secret Miracle, ed. Daniel Alarcon

This book has an interesting take on the classic How-to writing book.

There are a couple dozen authors interviewed, everyone from Stephen King and Amy Tan to Chris Abani.

The format of the book is a displayed question, followed by the short answers of several of the authors. So you might see, Do you listen to music while you write? followed by answers from a variety of different authors.

I can't say I read this one word-for-word, and I don't think it's meant to be used that way. If you read through, you can get a good profile of an author you like, and you also see the huge variety of answers provided, the overall message being, "Everyone does this differently, so you probably better just do what works for you." Not too helpful as advice goes, but a nice kickstarter for a writer who's feeling stuck or unsure of their process.

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What I Talk About When I Talk About Running by Haruki Murakami

Of the three, this one is the least oriented towards writing. Murakami, a great novelist, spends a lot more time talking about his life as a distance runner, drawing some parallels between writing and running.

This feels like a niche book to me. It might be of interest to aging athletes who are wondering how getting older changes a person's relationship with his body, and it is likely of interest to runners who write. But other than those two and Murakami super-fans, I don't know how appealing it would be.

BUT, if you belong to one of those groups, give it a shot. It's a fast read, and in a lot of ways it really leans well towards Murakami's reflective, meditative style.

Oh, and anyone who translates the works of Raymond Carver and then asks Carver's widow about borrowing the title is okay by me.

The Maze Runner by James Dashner

This is a book I read for a book club that I help out with at a local middle school.

I just felt that I should add that in because, being such an advocate of not finishing books that you don’t love, I thought I should explain why I finished a book that I didn’t love.
The story is pretty simple, a bunch of kids trapped in a giant maze for no apparent reason. It reads like a sort of cross between Lord of the Flies, Battle Royale, and the Hunger Games.

The thing to not like about this book is that all of the plot points come out way before they are executed.

For example, the main character wants to be a Maze Runner (not too important to explain, but they’re just the people in the maze with the coolest job). But instead of just becoming a maze runner, the first third of the book shows him doing other jobs, screwing around, and pining about how he should be a maze runner, how he somehow knows deep down that he’s meant to be a maze runner.

Alright, well just be a damn maze runner already. As a reader, I wasn’t absorbed with the story enough to ignore everything going on and flow with the story. Okay, the book is called the maze runner, the kid wants to be a maze runner, and all the excitement seems to be with the maze runners. Somehow, I think he’s going to be a maze runner, so get to it. It would be like titling a book, “Detective Wabash’s First Case” and then spending the first third of the book with a cop named Wabash who really wants to be a detective for no discernible reason, nor is there any reason for him not to be a detective, and only after some serious work does he become a detective and start in on the story.

I had a roommate who started watching the show 24, and after a couple seasons he did a pretty accurate impression of the show’s main flaw, which consisted of yelling, “No time to explain!” and then cutting to commercial. This book felt a little like that, like there was a lot of information you could feel the author purposely withholding. It felt more like the characters were engaging the author than the story, badgering until he finally gave in and gave them a revelation.

Also, it ends on a complete non-ending, setting you up for the second book. So again, knowing that before I finished, I wouldn’t have gone all the way through just to get to an unsatisfactory ending. Plus, the second book just came out a month ago, so god knows how long you would have to wait for the third, and alleged final, part of the series.

I'm a big fan of this type of book. I don't know what the genre is...survival fiction? But I would say skip this one in favor of:

Battle Royale by Koushun Takami

The Crimson Labyrinth by Yusuki Kishi

and the movie Cube. You gotta love Cube.

Emergency by Neil Strauss

Neil Strauss, probably most famous for his Motley Crue book the Dirt and his book about Pick-Up Artists, the Game, gets a little freaked out about the state of the world. Then he looks into it a little more and gets a lot freaked out, especially when he has to admit to himself that after a life lived in the city where a rolling blackout was the closest thing to the apocalypse so far, he is unprepared to survive any sort of calamity. So, throwing himself into his subject as usual, he decides to do whatever it takes to prepare himself.

The writing style is good. Neil Strauss has a way of writing that pulls you through just about whatever he’s covering. However, if you’re looking for a good book about survivalists, becoming a survivalist, or some kind of survivalist manual, look somewhere else.

A lot of the book is devoted to his attempts to get dual citizenship so that he has somewhere to go WTSHTF (When the Shit Hits the Fan). These parts are not very exciting. They mostly serve to make you understand that it’s tough to get citizenship somewhere else, which is a little scary, but the ultimate answer is that you can get a second citizenship just about anywhere, the only factor being how much you are willing to spend. Fucked up, yes, but not terribly surprising.

Because I don’t have a couple hundred thousand to spend (and I suspect most people don’t) I found those parts of the books pretty much worthless. It’s sort of like reading a book about a beginning chef who spends a shitload on ingredients that are way out of your price range. Other sections are more entertaining. It’s not so much that I was looking for survivalist tips, but reading about him going to a tracking school or spending a week without power and water is way more engaging than reading about how it sucks that shit is expensive and that the burecratic process in small island nations is very slow.

Other reviews say that he spends a good amount of time explaining the Why behind his wanting to learn survivalism. I would half agree with that. He does a good job highlighting events and policy changes that might make a person a little worried about living in the United States, explaining why he’s scared and why he thinks something bad might happen. What he doesn’t do (except for a brief section near the end) is explain the point of surviving in a wasteland.

When you read an apocalyptic book, like the Road, it has to occur to you that the main characters could just lay down and die. It does to me, anyway. But I never get to ask these fictional characters what keeps them moving, so the author has to make some attempt to explain it. In Emergency, I wanted to hear why someone would want to survive in an existence that most people, himself included towards the beginning, would consider hellish. Strauss was preparing himself to survive in the woods in a shelter made of sticks and leaves, but I don’t know why or what the point of that life might be. That was something I was looking for and didn’t get.

An unusual part of the book is that there is an armchair treasure hunt incorporated into it. There are short sections written in comic book form, and each of these sections includes a clue that is supposed to reveal the location of a cache that Strauss buried at one point in the book. Because I’m a dork, I spent a good hour trying to find the clues, figure out what they meant, and then figure out where the cache is. After that, I have no idea still. Okay, that’s not totally true. I have some idea, but nothing of confidence, so I’ll let you all know when I find the damn thing because now it’s an obsession. I bet my girlfriend will appreciate taking a vacation to some woods to unbury a box, especially when I don’t have the right spot and we spend three days digging holes.

The first thing I’d heard of like this was buried in David Blaine’s book. Supposedly there were clues hidden throughout that would lead you to $100,000 worth of treasure. And supposedly some lady found it. You can see the solution here: http://www.thefoolsparadise.com/db/solution.htm

To be honest, the whole thing is way too involved for me to even consider the possibility, and I question whether someone actually solved it or not. There’s a photo blog by the person who solved it, which seems pretty convenient as well, especially the part where she gives up when she’s almost there and then sees something on her drive home that gives her a Eureka! moment straight out of some Sherlock Holmes bullshit. Call me crazy, but I don’t trust someone who stands around in a block of ice and spends way too much time maintaining his beard and not nearly enough on those eyebrows.

On a similar books/treasure hunt path, there was and still is a circulating rumor that there is a secret ending to Chuck Palahniuk’s Survivor which is embedded in the hardback back cover of some first edition copies.

The rumor has never proven true, from what I can tell. Maybe it’s a ploy by someone with a few first editions to try and rarify it and drive up the value. Although I can’t personally prove it either way, I have to believe that someone who found it wouldn’t be against providing photographic or textual evidence. But it’s kind of a cool rumor anyway.

So, pick up Emergency if you’re looking for an entertaining read and that’s about it. If you get through the first couple sections with no problems, then you’ll only build up speed from there.

Born to Run by Christopher McDougall

After I finished this book, someone asked me whether it’s a good book for non-runners. Honestly, I have no idea.

Running has been a big part of my life for some time now. For the last ten years I’ve run. So it’s hard to say. When you put enough time into something, it’s pretty hard to separate yourself from it.

I can’t write a review from a non-runner’s perspective because that would be total speculation on my part.

What I can do is tell you that this is a fantastic book. If you are a runner, this is a must-read, easily the best book about running out there, and I’ve read a ton. You won’t find anything this in-depth, in touch, and you’ll never read anything else that gives you the vicarious thrills of superathletes and scientists alike.

The story is about the greatest endurance race of all time, but really that’s only a small part. It’s about a man who is feeling his body age and trying to figure what he can do about it. It’s about Caballo Blanco, a living legend whose story, a tall tale, is only more incredible because it is 100% true. The story of the Leadville 100 and the Tarahumara racing against Ann Trason is one of the best sports stories on the planet, expertly told by McDougall, and as any great sports story, it brings about greater truths about who we are and why we run.

More than anything, this books sets out to prove its title. Through science, through example, and through story after story of one incredible athlete after another, this book will leave no doubt in your mind that the greatest athletes in the world still like to get their drink on, that a group of humans can run down a deer, and that you and I were born to do it too.

It’s motivated me to try some new things. I don’t know if chia seeds are making me faster or stronger. And I can’t say for sure that barefoot running has unchained my feet and transformed them into running machines. But I can say that the spirit of the runners, Barefoot Ted, Scott Jurek, Billy “Bonehead” and Jen, the Lunas, and the dozens of characters in this book, each one more incredible than the last, the spirit of these runners is infectious and fuck this review I’m hitting the road.

City of Thieves by David Benioff

I try to avoid WWII stories most of the time. I just feel a little over it. So when my book club picked City of Thieves I had mixed feelings. On the one hand, it was a WWII drama. On the other hand, it was written by David Benioff, the same guy who brought us the 25th Hour, so there was reason to think that it might not be the kind of schmaltzy, life-affiriming thing we've come to expect from WWII fiction. And on the other, third(?) hand, a Russian library regular told me that he had read the book and that it seemed better researched than most of the American books about Russia.

The thing that makes City of Thieves different is that it doesn't feel like a book trying to force emotion on you by being set in WWII. It's a better-told story than that, putting the plot and the strong dialogue out there and letting the reader decide how to feel. There were moments of levity, and there were moments of darkness. But the reason it works is because the book doesn't ask us to do what so many others do, which is to erase all previous joy because of the new suffering. Just because things are bad on page 78, the book doesn't expect readers to forget they were laughing on page 68. It also has a very extemporaneous feel, less planned and plotted out, more characters thrown into the grinder and ending up one place or another. It surprises readers without going for the big twist.
It's written almost exactly the way we like our war stories. There is viloence, danger, broadly drawn heroes The story is almost a little too fantastic in spots, but that's exactly what makes it a pitch-perfect war story as opposed to a war novel.

The Internet Is a Playground by David Thorne

This book brings up the old question of Why Not Just Read It on the Internets?

What a great question, you jerk.

The success of David Thorne’s web site, www.27bslash6.com, got him a book deal. A complete book deal with pages, inks, cover, and so on. But part of the site’s success is that, working in graphic design, the web site is nicely formatted for computer viewing. Really it’s like reading an e-book where the intended format was a tiny screen. So why would one then take that e-book format and timewarp it into an analog book?

Well, because I don’t have the damn internet at home. Hence the above “jerk” comment.

The book is at its best in the email strings between David and his coworkers, local Blockbuster, and his son’s teacher. Like a sort of email Jerky Boy, he strings them along and the joke becomes the fact that someone would continue to correspond as long as they do. How much does someone have to tell you about the motion picture Water World before you, as a Blockbuster employee, feel that you’ve done your due diligence and let the dude rot in bad credit land? Apparently about one shitload.

The other postings vary. Some pretty great. Some great. Some pretty. Some none of those things.

You can probably just read it for free. Hell, you’re reading this on the internet right now, right? Try out this article: http://www.27bslash6.com/overdue.html and see if you like it.

Where We Going, Daddy? by Jean-Louis Fournier

This is a book that deserves more attention than it’s getting. It’s a quick read, no more than an afternoon of time.

Before going any further, here’s letting you know that I’m going to refer to the children in the book as handicapped. I don’t know that this is the most sensitive term, though I am certain it’s not the most insensitive. I am a believer in the power of words, but part of that power is their ability to shift. Yesterday’s retard is today’s differently-abled person. That’s fine, except don’t forget that today’s acceptable term is tomorrow’s slur. So just understand that I am using “handicapped” today with no malice or agenda.

Jean-Louis Fouriner is a French humorist who fathered two severely handicapped sons. He doesn’t go into great detail about just what we’re talking about, but that’s what makes the book so excellent. He’s not trying to convince anyone out there to treat handicapped people one way or another. The book isn't about how hard it is to be handicapped, how the other kids make fun of his boys and that sort of thing. It's about being the father of two boys who have, as the phrase he adopted goes, "heads full of straw."

If you are looking for an uplifting tale of humanity and all its different forms, you will be disappointed by this book. He mocks them at times, almost seeming cruel when he asks idly, “How is the trigonometry coming?” Or when he tells his son, “Close your mouth. You look retarded.” He also spends a lot of time speculating what his life might have been like if his sons were different. How would they spend their days? What would they enjoy? However, it's clear that he truly cares for the boys. He has spent so much time speculating on their shuttered inner lives that it would be impossible to say otherwise.

The truth is that the humanity explored here is Fournier’s, not that of his boys. As he puts it,

Aren't you ashamed, Jean-Louis, you of all people, their own father, making fun of two little kids who can't even defend themselves?

No. It doesn't mean I don't have any feelings.

I think maybe this book is missing the broader audience for a few reasons. I think to some it seems too precious, to likely to fall into the category where all life is a miracle and handicapped children happily fingerpaint and never really grow old. I assure you this is not the case. In fact, it is far less so than most baby books and growing up memoirs.

Clearly this is not a comfortable topic for many people, which must also have something to do with it. But this is not a book written for parents of the handicapped. Fournier gives the reader a gut check every here and there, but not the kind designed to make the reader feel guilty. Not the kind that says, "You'll never understand." Like any good artist, he tries to help the reader understand something without trying to point out how little they already grasp.

If I can make a sort of analogy here, I don't read a lot of books related to the Holocaust. Sure, it was horrible and fascinating in its own way. There's a lot of material to cover there. But often you'll find that books that use the Holocaust as the center are using it to up the emotional ante. They aren't really telling me much about the topic, and they are counting on our history classes to fill in the characters. It's a way of creating a sort of artificial high, a tension and emotion that is implanted into the book by force of history. Going in, that was my fear with Fournier's book as well, that this was going to be a day-in, day-out drag of life that's a little off course, but that the tension would be raised by the very existence of handicapped children.

It's not.

Just like any good book that deals with the tragedy, you get the sense that if things had been different, this book never would have been written. And just like any good author dealing with hard times, you get the sense that the author would have preferred to forgo living the material.

Cheesemonger by Gordon Edgar

I’m not what you’d call a foodie. I do like to cook, and I’m working on getting better at it, but at the same time knowing the ins and outs of foods isn’t a passion of mine. To put it simply, I love me an Oatmeal Cream Pie that’s been sitting in the glovebox (aka Dessert Cart) for a couple days.

That said, this book is pretty entertaining for someone who isn’t already interested in cheese.

What separates this book from other food books is that Edgar, though passionate about cheese, doesn’t try to foist his passion on everyone else. Edgar’s cheese vocabulary is helpful. He doesn’t use a bunch of bullshit terms that have no meaning. Edgar’s realistic, unapologetic for growing up on cheap-ass cheese, and he must have taken half a dozen opportunities in this book to say that you shouldn’t waste your money on the best cheese if you’re putting it on a plate for a big gathering or preparing a meal for a large group. The strengths of the book are the writing and Edgar’s honesty. In other words, he is not interested in making cheese the new wine.

The book also has some pretty decent sections on running co-ops and the harsh reality of agribusiness as well. Definitely worthwhile if you’re any sort of manager, but also if you’re interested in the world of work in general. One could draw parallels to books like Waiter Rant in terms of dealing with some difficult people and the ways in which retail economics play into food.

The rougher sections, for me at least, were the larger geo-political portions. I think he may have some decent points about Reaganomics and our reasons for fearing French cuisine, but I was a lot more interested in the ins and outs of the cheese.

The biggest success of the book is in its desire to introduce noobs to the cheese world. Every chapter ends with specific cheese recommendations and the book ends with a brief guide on how to buy cheese. This isn’t a book for food snobs or people that think certain foods are only for people who know all about them already. Edgar can’t say it (though, without putting words in his mouth, he seems to dance around it) because these people are his bread and butter, or at least the spreadable cheese, but food insiders can be really goddamn annoying. They’re kind of like people who like a band only up to the moment in which they become popular in that they seem to like the actual product less than what the product says about them. To them, a food becoming popular is a bad thing. A club just isn’t a club if you can’t turn people away at the door.

After reading this book I was motivated to try a couple cheeses he recommended. I should point out that I don’t live anywhere near a cheese shop or even a Whole Foods, so these were purchased at the tiny salad-bar-cheese-counter-conversion thing at King Soopers. To recap: a know-nothing purchasing cheese from a place that probably spends more time deciding what goes in the Halloween aisle than the cheese case. So take it all with a grain of salt. The size of a meteor.

The first was Parmigiano Reggiano. This cheese comes up over and over in the book because it’s reasonably priced, hard to mess up, and because there is honestly a world of difference between the wedge of cheese I bought and the dust that comes in the green can. Don’t get me wrong, this is not me swearing off the green can. But the cheese is pretty damn good plain, and maybe it’s not the best use of good cheese, but try it as the cheese for your next Alfredo sauce. I wasn’t an Alfredo fan until I tried it with Parmigiano Reggiano. The flavor of the cheese is tempered a little by the cooking, I think, but the Alfredo has an actual taste besides salty milk, and the sauce had some stick to it instead of being so watery.

The second cheese I tried was Taleggio. The book said that it’s somewhat of a beginner in terms of stinky cheese. And stinky it was. The smell was…unpleasant. Biological. Foot-y. But I cut a piece off and ate it anyway. This is one of the few food experiences I can think of where the smell of the food was somewhat distant from the taste. It was like a horror movie where the trailer is scary as hell, but then you sit down and the overall feeling is much milder.

Taleggio, I’m afraid, won’t be finding its way into my regular rotation. The softness combined with the stink was a little, um, advanced for my liking. The texture was a little like a rubbery cream cheese. I know, really appetizing. But hey, as an adult you really never have to eat new things. When you’re a kid, you’re eating new crap all the time. You hate it half the time, maybe because it’s infused with the bitterness you feel towards your parents for making you eat it, but there’s something to be said for trying a new food variety once in a while, no?
If you are interested in food, or at least want to take a second look at that cheese case when you go to the grocery store, give Cheesemonger a shot. Hell, it’s a good read either way.

Tips on Banning Books

This gem of a human you see to my left recently tried to have manga (Japanese comics) banned from the library.

Why?

She says of the books, "My son lost his mind when he found this...Now he's in a home for extensive therapy."

I don't want to attack the victim too much here, but if a Japanese comic from the public library sent you spiraling into a loony bin, maybe you didn't have a super tight grasp on reality to begin with.

Could that dude in the middle of the picture look any more bored? He doesn't look like he gives one damn.

So why do people try to ban books? Really, what's the point, especially when most attempts to ban a book only result in a dramatic sales increase?

However, that sales increase is what I'm banking on should I ever crank out some shit book, so I would like to present a little advice on getting a book ban done right.

Tip 1: Try your best to come off as some sort of sane person. If you appear in front of some board or city council at some point, don't wear your loudest blue floral dress. I know you really want to draw attention to yourself, but you're taking it a little too far. Museum guides don't use those glowing orange popsicle things that the guys on the airport runway use, so let's calm it down a couple notches. Broadcast your sanity and people might take you a little more seriously.

Tip 2: Maybe be a little more realistic about your claim of a book's effects. For example, rather than trying to convince me that a teenager's psyche was destroyed by a scantily clad woman or someone with a sword slicing through his abdomen, you explain the realistic consequences. For example, in this case these books have the negative effect of you bothering everyone at this stupid meeting where they probably don't get anything done anyway, so they can reduce this effect by pulling the books.

Tip 3: Leave god out of it. I know you're really tempted to get god-y, but hold on a sec. What you really want to do is call someone out, not bring someone in. Tango Makes Three is challenged a lot because the penguins are gay(?), but let the others bring in the part where god's not cool with that. Call out the gays, the people who speak Spanish, or whoever, but let god be implied. Hell, he's everywhere, right? He doesn't need your help.

Tip 4: Actually read some of the material. The first questions a library or school are going to ask you will concern the specifics of what you found offensive. That means page numbers. That means passages. Luckily for you, when my shit book comes out it'll have a little card in the back that tells you where all the absolute worst shit is. That will help you speed up the process.

Tip 5: Don't hold a book burning or try to hoard all the copies or some such shit. And there's a damn good reason for this: Where are you getting the copies? Unless you're robbing an author of copies in his garage, the author is putting coin in his pocket when you bring one to toss on the fire. A book sells for the same money regardless of whether you take it home and read it a hundred times or use it to steady a wobbly table. Even if you steal it, the store absorbs that cost, not the publisher, definitely not the author. And they will order more. So again, don't waste your time trying to take away the copies from anybody else, except in the case of my book. In that case, you're lucky because I'm doing an extra print run of cheaply bound copies meant to be burned. Please buy enough to make an impressive fire and keep me in sunglasses.

In conclusion, stop wasting your time. More importantly, stop wasting everyone else's time. I'm a fan of a lost cause, but don't push it, freedom fighter.

Talking to Girls About Duran Duran by Rob Sheffield

Okay, before we get too far into this, everyone should know that this book doesn’t come out for a whole week.

This is very exciting for me.

Not only did I hold the book in my hands before the unwashed, unshaven, apparently wholly uneducated about hygiene masses, but the version I held was special. And not just because it was an uncorrected proof. Not just because Steve Perry was named Steve Terry at one point, something that confused the shit out of me for a second. This is all very new to me, so instead of thinking right away that there was a one-letter typo, my world started swirling with the possibilities of an entirely new band led by Steve Terry, a man who sounded by all description like Steve Perry, patron saint of sincerity in the face of ridiculousness, but was in fact an entirely different man.

Let’s leave it there because the details of how long this was in my brain and how badly I wanted it to be true are goddamn embarrassing.

No, this was not just special because of the ghost of Steve Terry. It was special because this is the official launching of my career as a book critic.

Here is my basic career outline:
1. Get books before they come out.
2. Review them. Post on helpfulsnowman.com.
3. This is wildly popular somehow.
4. Actually get paid to review books.
5. Start career as sincere, earnest critic with insightful things to say.
6. Almost immediately slide into the world of writing cover quotes that are about half a sentence. “The writer has defied science and written a book as electrifying as it is grounding.” “More mesmerizing than a swinging pocket watch right in front of my goddamn face that time I was in Vegas and somehow ended up at a magic show.” “Not since I got a lighter with a woman on it where you rub her bikini and it disappears have I been this invested in the resolution of a mystery.”
7. Get job at the New York Something.
8. Attempt to discourage young, Bambi-eyed kid reviewer from getting in over his head, actually reading all these books he reviews.
9. Bury corpse of Bambi-eyed kid reviewer somewhere near the waterfront.
So without further ado, let’s get this career a-launching!

Most of you probably know Rob Sheffield as a contributing editor to Rolling Stone. Or you might have seen him on one of those shows where people ranging from cultural critics (such as Sheffield) to Vern Troyer (alcoholic Golem on a mobility scooter) talk about things of great consequence, such as whether Michael Jackson could actually destroy a car with all his might.

Those of you who are very lucky might have read his previous book, Love is a Mix Tape. If you haven’t, get off your ass.
T

The important thing to know is that the guy does an awful lot of writing, so it’s not a brand new game for him. This isn’t some silly biography that starts off with the thrilling tale of who his great-grandfather is and why we should give a good goddamn. This is a silly biography that takes us through the songs that define the 1980′s for Rob, which turns out to be a good storytelling tool. Everyone has a couple songs that don’t really mean what they’re supposed to mean. Maybe Ben Folds had a hell of a lot going through his brain, but “Rockin’ the Suburbs” might as well be called “Summer, 1999″ as far as I’m concerned.

Sheffield takes you through his songs, his times, and the music is the driving force some of the time and takes the passenger seat at others.

A great way to see if you’ll like this book is to read the section named for Prince’s “Purple Rain.” It chronicles Rob’s summer as the ice cream man, a summer filled with teenage freedom and forever solidifies the impossibility of selling Bomb Pops. This is one of the strongest sections. Good, clear writing, humor, and just enough relatibility to keep things fun.

Something that makes Sheffield’s writing about music really work is that he’s not trying to convince you to like or dislike anything. This isn’t like talking to your buddy who will spend an hour trying to convince you that Ride the Lightning is the best Metallica album when it creeps up to maybe fifth on your list. This isn’t like talking to some goofball who tries to convince you that Beyonce is important somehow. This is a guy who likes what he likes, makes no apologies for it, and tells you what he likes about it. Much like the claim he makes about Duran Duran having mostly female fans and not really giving a damn, Sheffield will have people who disagree with him, but he’ll go right along doing his thing.

The weaker points come in when reading about songs you’ve never really hear of or don’t give two shits about. As the wave of 80′s nostalgia passes over us, you probably wouldn’t be surprised to read a little something about Flock of Seagulls, David Bowie, and Hall & Oates. But Paul McCartney, L’Trimm, and the group Haysie Fantayzee (which I’m not entirely convinced wasn’t a joke because the story was so perfectly 80′s pop) round out a number of groups. It’s really a nostalgic trip through the 80′s, but moreso if you actually lived through them. Not a lot of time is spent catching you up, and folks born after 1985 will be left behind children.

To be honest, it was a little bit like a driving through a foreign country. It went fast, I enjoyed it, but at times I was so busy trying to figure out where I was that I didn’t really get to enjoy the sights. To help you out I’ve included a track list of the main songs mentioned in the book, so if you want to spend a couple bucks or know someone with a decent library of80′s music you can really get a leg up on this one.

Talking to Girls About Duran Duran by Rob Sheffield. Check it out July 15th. Or, you know, after that.

Songs from the Book:

The Go-Go’s, “Our Lips Are Sealed”
David Bowie, “Ashes to Ashes”
Ray Parker Jr., “A Woman Needs Love”
The Rolling Stones, “She’s So Cold”
The Human League, “Love Action”
O.M.D., “Enola Gay”
Culture Club, “I’ll Tumble 4 Ya”
Hall & Oates, “Maneater”
Roxy Music, “More Than This”
Bonnie Taylor, “Total Eclipse of the Heart”
Haysi Fantayzee, “Shiny Shiny”
A Flock of Seagulls, “Space Age Love Song”
Chaka Khan, “I Feel For You”
Prince, “Purple Rain”
Paul McCartney, “No More Lonely Nights”
Madonna, “Crazy For You”
The Replacements, “Left Of The Dial”
The Smiths, “Ask”
The Psychedelic Furs, “Pretty In Pink”
Lita Ford, “Kiss Me Deadly”
Tone Loc, “Funky Cold Medina”
New Kids On The Block, “Hangin’ Tough”
Big Daddy Kane, “Ain’t No Half Steppin’”
L’Trimm, “Cars With Boom”
Duran Duran, “All She Wants Is”

Fencing the Sky by James Galvin

This is one of those perfect books that makes it difficult to pick up anything else afterwards.

Though it's a novel, this is a nice companion book to James Galvin's classic, the Meadow. You could almost think of it as part II as the time is closer to the present, and the end of the Meadow, at which point open land is being parceled and essentially destroyed, is the beginning of this book.

The book has an almsot Edward Abbey feel to it in terms of the changing landscape and different groups fighting over the same area. But where Abbey's concepts and ideas rise to the top, overpowering his writing style, James Galvin treats each word with the same care and warmth that he gives to his overarching theme.

Another great writer, Tom Spanbauer, says that every writer has to do three things with readers: "Teach them something, make them laugh, and break their hearts." This book will teach you about ranching and the American West, make you laugh your ass off with character descriptions and wild tales, and if it doesn't break your heart, your blood must be pumping through something harder than the granite under Wyoming's soil.

How Did You Get This Number by Sloane Crosley

This book of short personal essays started out about like Crosley's first, I Was Told There Would Be Cake. They weren't everything I would hope for from David Sedaris, but then what is?

The first couple essays were decent, peppered with funny moments, but they have a strong case of New-York-Itis, the disease that runs through books, the symptoms of which include referencing New York, talking about how New York is a strange and wonderful place, and attempting to describe the way in which New Yorkers are tough, savvy, or whatever (although to be fair, she does acknowledge that New Yorkers do revel in squalor at times, which was nice). I think this happens as so many publishers are in New York, and because so many writers work with publishers in some capacity before getting published, New York becomes the center of the book world. Having never been there, I hesitate to say much more about it, but I get that subways are crowded, cabs range from unpleasant to unholy, and when you concentrate a shitload of people in a tiny space you are bound to be constrained by different types of shit. However, Crosley handles most of it well, and she does some linguistic backflips that are worth a laugh on their own merit.

And the book really picks up. In "Light Pollution" Crosley describes a trip made to Alaska for a wedding, and though it's already funny, it takes a turn that brings it to a very human and very dark place. And the real gem, the final essay called "Off the Back of a Truck" is one of the better chronicles of the beginning and end of a relationship. She's smart, she makes a lot of wise statements, and people will be quoting pieces of this to crying friends over the phone for years to come. And the best part is that just when she's about to break your heart, she throws in a line that makes you laugh without destroying the tension. There's a balancing act there, and she pulls it off perfectly.

Read that last one first. I kid you not. If you like it, then read the rest.

The Art of Racing in the Rain by Garth Stein

There are a lot of other low-star reviews for this book from people who say they aren’t into dogs, and that seems a little unfair. You shouldn’t get more than a couple pages in before you realize this is a dog-centric book and accept it. I don’t really care about dogs, to be honest. I don’t spend a lot of time in Petsmart, nor do I raise fighting dogs with names like “Sagat,” “M.Bison” and “Chun Li.” My personal affection for dogs lies somewhere in between beating them in a warehouse and commenting on how much they’re like people, I guess. I don’t wish them any harm, but on the other hand I don’t have one in my house and think it’s funny to dress them in bumblebee costumes when the opportunity arises.

This book also has low reviews based on the fact that people don’t like car racing. In fact, I read one where the person was disappointed that the book wasn’t about running, like racing 5K’s and shit. Look, if you pick up a book and it’s about driving, don’t give it a bad review because you want it to be a about a footrace. I didn’t give a crappy review to Jane Eyre because I wanted it to be about hot babes who get drunk and head out to the clubs. I gave it a crappy review because I thought it sucked, but it sucked in its own right, not because it wasn’t an entirely different book.

Also, it’s unfair because the book isn’t disguising itself as something else. Look at the cover. A picture of a dog and the word “racing” are right there! And the first paragraph mentions both the fact that the narrator is a dog and that the best thing he’s ever seen is the 1993 Grand Prix, which he also points out is an automobile race.

If you read, say, Pride and Prejudice and Zombies, you could be pissed off that it doesn’t contain nearly enough zombie action, or that the title is really the funniest part, or that it was way more Jane Austen than George Romero. That makes sense. You were led to believe the book was going to be one thing, but then it turned out to be another. But you wouldn’t go see Toy Story 3 and complain because you didn’t think there was enough full-frontal nudity. Nothing led you to expect it, and if you’re looking for nudity you are in the completely wrong movie, which is your own fault. The Art of Racing in the Rain is honest and upfront about what it is, so readers are not in for a surprise.

The whole point of that was to tell you this: I read the entire book mostly out of book club obligation, but I want to review it knowing that I’m not someone who should be reading it in the first place. So keeping in mind that I don’t care about race cars, dogs, dogs being run over by race cars or giant dogs eating race cars, here we go: The good thing about this book is that it clips along. The plot moves fast, and the pacing works well with the story and the doggy perspective. You can read it in a day, which I consider a plus. Screw War and Peace. Get an editor. The racing parts were interesting even as someone who didn’t go in with any knowledge or passion for racing. They aren’t overwhelming, and you learn a little something about it without getting so in-depth that it distracts from the story as a whole. Hell, I’ve never been in a fistfight, but that doesn’t disqualify me from reading Fight Club.

Okay, here’s the bad part: Way too much time convincing me that the dog really could tell this story. The dog knows things that dogs shouldn’t really know. For example, in the opening of a chapter the dog explains that Seattle had a long winter and high-pollen spring, which means that pharmaceutical companies must be doing gangbusters. Why a dog would care about that is beyond me, but I also don’t really care how he found out. In other words, if I can accept Why, I can accept How. The author goes to some stretchy lengths to make me believe that a dog can tell this story, but he should just assume that once I get past page 10 I’m on board, and at that point he should let it go. It’s a lesson that could be learned from great comic books. Take Spider-Man, for example. Spider-Man comics spend a lot of time showing him do spider stuff, but the good ones don’t waste a lot of time explaining How he does it. The movie showed a half-second clip of little spines coming out of his finger, and then we knew he could climb stuff. End of story. He didn’t have to keep reminding us or explain that they spines go through his gloves or whatever. We don’t really care about that, so let’s get on with the story. For Art of Racing in the Rain, I felt like the author didn’t believe that people would buy in to his concept, which is fair because it’s far-fetched (dog pun alert), but he should have just done a Ripley and dropped it, letting the reader decide to Believe it or Not.

Overall, as a guy who doesn’t give a damn about any of the surface contents, the book was pretty good. It moved along, kept me interested, and the ending was completely satisfying. If you’re a dog person, this is a good one to check out. Stein nails some dog behaviors, and he gives some speculative perspective on some of the stranger things dogs do, like tearing up stuffed animals or killing woodland creatures. Give it a shot, read a chapter. It’ll take 5 minutes, and then you can decide from there.

The Suicide Collectors by David Oppegaard

This was another book read for genre-expanding.

The basics of the plot: There's this great sadness, almost like a disease, spreading over the world and causing people to commit suicide. A lot of people. Like 90% of the world. Of course, there are some survivors, and they make a pilgrimage of sorts.

The story clips along, and it's like reading a good zombie book or post-apocalypse story. What's nice and different is that the author doesn't make every person into a complete asshole, which is unusual for the genre. It's more realistic in that sense. It kind of sucks that one of the best books of all time, the Road, fits into this genre and all others will be compared to it. Because let's face it, that book is fantastic and pretty tough to match up with.

There were three essential things about the Suicide Collectors that bothered me:

1. There's a female character who is 11, but she seems awfully mature for 11. I guess that might happen if you saw people killing themselves all damn day, but why not just make her 14?

2. The ending is a little unsatisfying. However, there is an ending, so props for that. 3. This is kind of a personal pet peeve, but there are two fairly long dream sequences, or what you might call dream sequences. I just have no patience for that in fiction. It's a made up story, so what is the point of a mde-up story inside of a made-up story? Also, in literature, dreams almost always have some deeper significance, but it's sort of a cheat because that significance should come in the story, not within a dream within the story. It feels like taking a shortcut that I can't really abide by. Again, personal pet peeve, so if that stuff doesn't bother you, you'll be fine.

Was She Pretty? by Leanne Shapton

What a loaded question. If there's one thing to take away from this book, it's that you should never ask this one. Was she pretty? Of course she was.

The book is a series of very short bios, usually one or two sentences about an ex. For example, "Katya's boyfriend never stopped sending her postcards" or "Isaac would not let Rebecca answer the telephone in his apartment." Mini stories on one side of the page, sketches on the other.

I can't decide if this would be a great book or a depressing book to read right after a break up. Maybe both. And maybe that's why the detatched sweetness of the book is so effective.

It leads me to think of several questions that you should never ask someone you are dating.

1. Was your last girlfriend pretty?
Well, there are only two real answers to that. Yes, which I would hope because don't we at least try to date people who are attractive? And No, which means that I don't date attractive people, which says something not nice about you. Either answer is not helping anyone feel better.

2. Where did you get that picture/blanket/keychain/shirt and so on?

Are you asking because you want to get the same one? No? Then let's not ask because I like this picture/blanket/keychain/shirt and so on, so don't make me get rid of it and be unhappy or fight to keep it and be unhappy.

3. Was it like this before...at...you know?
This is the lady equivalent of, "Was he bigger or smaller downstairs?" Again, neither answer is really satisfying. Besides, don't ask me to compare past, 18 year-old sex, which came at a time when boners were more common than old gum mashed on the sidewalk, to current. That's not fair to anyone, especially my peep.

Maybe we should just stick to statements.

The Boy Who Couldn't Sleep and Never Had to by DC Pierson

First off, I challenge anyone to actually remember that title with complete accuracy in two hours. The Boy Who Never Slept and Couldn't Want...No, The Boy Who Didn't Want to Sleep and Had to...Shit! But to be honest, I think the title works because it does tell you just a little something about the book. Plus, it beats the shit out of the other book I have checked out: Unincorporated Persons in the Late Honda Dynasty: Poems. What the fuck does that even mean? I like poems as much, actually more than the next man, but it makes it an awfully hard pursuit to defend when you do something insane like that.

This was also an early review copy, like the Rob Sheffield book. Unfortunately I got it about, hmmm, eight months after the book was released. So the bloom was off the rose as they say, and the rose was crushed into a million shards that were used to compare smells with old lady perfumes they were selling at Walgreens. They don't usually say that last part, but it's implied.

This book follows two kids. Nerd kids. And something this book does well is write nerds who are nerds. They aren't hot nerds who take their glasses off and turn into hot babes like Zach Ephron, Taylor Lautner, or...some chick with brown hair. The main character has the self-described "worst torso for miles." At the same time, in realistic nerd fashion, these nerds are not happy that they aren't popular, but they don't pursue popularity with a vengeance either. The book isn't about that aspect of nerdidity, which is fantastic because we've all read/watched nerds turn into not nerds, get a hot girl, find out that being nerdy is actually really great, or learn some other life lesson that is easily won and wholly untrue. Because, and I speak with experience here, no matter how many Tommy Hilfiger shirts you buy, the back they are draped over is still concave, pale, and covered in acne.

The book also narrowly avoids the classic plotline wherein Nerd A starts getting popular, leaves Nerd B, and then we have conflict. At one point it looks like that's where it's headed, but don't worry. It goes somewhere else quickly.

Ultimately, the book is written from the perspective of a nerd, but what makes him an interesting an readable character is that he in an unapologetic nerd. He doesn't waste a lot of time explaining the broad strokes of Star Wars and Tolkein and the design of mechs. He gives you enough to hold onto if need be, but the book really feels like it's written for people who have been there, and it's this appeal that really pull the book together. If you like teen comedy, maybe especially ones that are just a little different and throw in a little sci-fi, this one beats the shit out of the next Judd Apatow movie, whatever the hell that ends up being.

Born Standing Up by Steve Martin

Hmm...even as a big fan of stand-up, this book wasn't all that interesting. And if you aren't into stand-up, interested in the way acts are created, copied, and pushed further, forget it.

Martin can write. That's probably a dumb thing to say. What I mean is that he's written a handful of decent books and tons of comedy. But this book, with the exception of the last 20 pages, reads like a long list of jokes, venues, and anecdotes that had all the makings of being incredible, but the pace of the book is so fast that there's no time to enjoy anything.

He really hits a personal, emotional core in the last 20 pages when he talks about the difficulty of fame and the resolution he find with his father. Despite the rest of the book not doing much for me, the last 20 were still effective and emotional. But the work it takes to get there just isn't worth it, and it's ultimately disappointing because it gives you just a little taste of how great the book could have been.

A Common Pornography by Kevin Sampsell

Well, it has ups and downs.

The book is written in short vignettes, which works well for me. It's an interesting way to write autobiography because it allows you to focus on only the parts that are interesting or engaging. But I started feeling like the book fell in a trap where the vignettes seemed a little too disconnected, and they start to have little meaning to the reader though it's clear that they are significant to the writer. Especially the parts about girls. I coudn't keep them straight, nor did I really care to. I don't keep in touch with most of my exes, so why would I want to add someone else's to my life?

The book was mostly about the author's twenties, it seemed like, which is a pretty boring part of someone's life. And that's coming from someone in his twenties. I have some shit I could write about, some girlfriend issues and so on, but I don't think it's that interesting. If you recorded yourself talking to a girl you were interested in every year in your twenties and then listened to the tapes on your birthday, you'd be depressed as hell.

I guess, ultimately, I felt like these were important events in the life of the author, but he didn't really take us to a place where I felt like I knew him. He's like the older kid in high school who you know all about but never hung out with.

Things We Didn't See Coming by Steve Amsterdam

It's a lighter post(sort of)-apocalypse.

There are some interesting elements to the book, for sure. The style of having a series of short stories that take us through the narrator's life allow us to see the re-crumbled society, some of the middle, and then the end. There are some really good scenes in here, but if you're looking for a sort of action-packed apocalypse/survival thing, this isn't your best bet.


The book went into a bit of a romance thing that didn't really do a whole lot for me towards the middle. That's me, I guess. It's an interesting idea to consider that people will still be in love and whatnot during the apocalypse, but the somewhat detached voice, which makes sense as that's the character's survival tactic, doesn't mesh all that well with the romantic portions for me. And why would you bother with writing a 3-way scene in the middle of the earth's slow decline? Okay, if fire is raining down and horsemen are getting shit done, I get that. Act of passion before the final end. Why the hell not? But when we're just sort of slowly sinking into oblivion there's no real reason for it. I can speak on that with personal authority.

Ultimately, it's not bad and pretty short at 199 pages, which is a plus in my book. If you are reading, at least get up through the story with the main chaacter's horse running away. If you're not feeling it after that, I say put it down.

Tell-All by Chuck Palahniuk

Okay, not my favorite Chuck Palahniuk book.

I'm a pretty big fan, read ALL of his books and have seen him speak twice, which is a blast if you ever get the chance.

Like always, he delivers in terms of a quick read, some social commentary, and a little bit of humor thrown in the mix (see: anything attributed to Walter Winchell in this book). That said, the story is so-so.

The book really hits its stride about a hundred pages in, which is over halfway. If you're going to read this book, here are some things that might help you enjoy it more:

1. Feel free to completey ignore anything in boldface. These will be brand names and names of celebrities. Chuck Palahniuk does this sort of thing in books, for example, the inclusion of esoteric medical terms in Choke, to slow readers down and make them pay attention to what's going on. So, don't get caught up in the names is all I'm saying, don't let that ruin it for you the way it seems to for so many others. Take the boldface as a sign saying, "You do not need to remember this person."

2. Accept that this is not Fight Club. Everybody wants Chuck Palahniuk to rewrite Fight Club. Say what you will about his use of forumla, but Palahniuk is a writer who is constantly trying new things, sometimes with great success (for example, in the much-underrated Rant) and sometimes with less success. But if you love Fight Club for its testosterone, snappy angry youth one-liners, or ready-for-the-screen action, look to another book.

3. A book being short does not mean that you are being ripped off. His books tend to be short, faster reads. I like that. I don't see this as a laziness on the author's part or a disadvantage. He is a rabid revisionist, and edits each line over and over rather than stuffing a book with crap.

His last couple of books haven't been my favorite, but the amount of work that goes into them is evident and appreciated.

Chasing the White Dog by Max Watman

Number one, if you're looking for a primer on making booze, look somewhere else.

Okay, now that the drunken DIY'ers are out of the way we can get down to business.

Dog is overall a decent book. It has some definite ups, and Max Watman must be a talented writer as some of the most interesting chapters had to do with Nascar's origins in bootlegging and I have ZERO interest in Nascar. That said, the book doesn't have a very strong focus. There is some history, some rubbing elbows with modern-day legit disitllers, and the whole things ends with a drawn-out trial piece.

My personal opinion: Read the modern-day stuff, read about Max's attempts at moonshining, read about the Nascar parts and Junior Johnson. The rest is, well, mash.

Also, real nice of him to list some great whiskeys and talk about distilleries, but nothing that's even remotely on the cheap side. I'm not saying that you have to stick to bumwines.com, but 70 bucks for a bottle is pushing both my problem areas: cashflow and sobriety.

Pop. 1280 by Jim Thompson

Well, there are a couple different things I've read about this book.

1. Reviews along the lines of "Nobody writes through the mind of a sick bastard like Jim Thompson."

2. Reviews that say something about a dopey small-town sherriff who bumbles his way through things.

I think I was expecting something like a Confederacy of Dunces by Cormac McCarthy. But I was a little disappointed. If you're thinking about reading this book, give it until at least page 57. That's where the real tone of the book begins. The author takes you for a little bit of a ride, but that's about where you get on solid ground.

Overall, the book set up an expectation that it didn't maintain throughout. The plot twists around quite a bit, but the twists were more quirky than dark or engaging.

The main thing people seem to be saying about this author is that he is a master of black humor, which I didn't find to be true in this book. And that's not because I don't find murder and whatnot funny. Murder can be hilarious. Have you ever see a clown murder someone, or a sped-up video clip of someone being murdered to the Benny Hill theme? Good stuff. But the murder in this book is mostly part of a plan to bang a couple different ladies. It's more like a hillbilly Three's Company than anything else, climbing out the window to bang some other lady and shit like that.

You're a Horrible Person But I Like You, the Believer Book of Advice

Dear Pete,

I'm thinking of reading this book, but I'm not sure if it's a good use of my time. Also, I have foot pain. What should I do?

-Foot Pain in Brisbane

Dear Foot Pain,

Let's start with the book.

The concept of this book is hilarious and maybe undersold. The idea is that people write in with their Dear-Abby-Esque questions and then receive advice. BUT that advice comes from a linup of comedians and comedy writers, probably the worst people to ask.

Because there are something like 30 different writers, the entries are pretty uneven. Some of the best include Amy Sedaris, Jim Gaffigan, and Marc Maron, who gives a piece of advice to a lady about talking dirty that is just about the funniest one-liner this side of...I don't know, Wayne's World II?

There's not much reason to get too specific about who was shitty, but the more meta the writers got, the less entertaining. A lof of them used the string of letters to create a second-layer comedy scenario, and that generally didn't work for me.

My advice would be to read it for free in the bookstore while nursing a chai so long that there's a milk skin on top.

As far as the foot pain goes, I would say that you should probably stop sleeping around, maybe then your foot wouldn't hurt so bad. Or maybe it wouldn't make any difference. But either way, stopping sleeping around is probably a good choice.

Best,
Pete

The Big Rewind by Nathan Rabin

This is a pretty damn good modern memoir. Great for fans of Chuck Klosterman who are looking for something a little more personal, maybe.

The intro was a little rocky for me, and I'll tell you why. It was packed full of jokes and references that were used in humor, but it kind of freaked me out because I thought I'd be half way through the book believing comedic references and basically confusing Rabin's life with that of a Simpsons character. But that's because I'm dumb.

Fear not, fellow dum-dums. After the intro the book evens out a little and you'll fall right into the natural pacing and humor. If you're still not sure, skip ahead to the chapter where Rabin descirbes the reaction of a focus group to Movie Club (maybe about pg. 300). Goddamn hilarious.

It turns out, in addition to working at the Onion, America's Finest Fake News Headline Source, Rabin actually had a pretty interesting life, something worth writing about. In fact, Onion business doesn't really come in until near the end of the book.

Can I just say something about fake news? Let's all knock it off with the exception of the Onion and the Daily Show. They've got it down, and I don't think we need a whole lot more fake news than that. You get a free pass if you're in high school because what the hell else are you going to do, but let's keep a lid on the rest of it. Put the suit away and make up something that's not news.