Book I Have an Issue With: At Least in the City Someone Would Hear Me Scream, by Wade RouseI love essays, particularly funny ones. Find me a book of them and I will happily hand over $12 for the privilege of reading it. And this one starts off really well, because there's a raccoon attack. Raccoons to the head are funny. It's a basic rule of
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*blinks*
Okay.
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When I was four, my mother called me in to see Fiddler on the Roof on TV. I didn't understand it, of course, but I liked the singing, and she explained the plot. Just, either she didn't mention the key word "Russia," or I didn't hear her. But she did mention wheat, and the only place I knew of where they grew wheat that wasn't in the U.S. was Saskatchewan. So I assumed the events she described happened there - she took pains to emphasize that it was based on real events - and I also assumed they happened in, oh, 1970 or so. Because she said it was long before I was born, and that was long before I was born, to me at that age.
I was really alarmed when we went to Canada a few years later, like, did no one notice that we were going to a land of NOTORIOUS JEW-HATERS? I looked at all the people I met, wondering if THAT VERY WOMAN was involved in doing Bad Things to Jews! Or that man! But ( ... )
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By the way, if you count the metro area, which is reasonable because many U.S. cities have far outgrown their original boundaries, there are considerably more 350,000 people in St. Louis. Well over 2 million, in fact.
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Also I agree with you on the phrase "the city," but then, I live in St. Louis and thus bristled a tiny bit at the OP. ;)
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New York, for me (and I was born there, I still have family there, and I still say I'm from there, even though the last time I lived there was when I was 6), either New York, Manhattan, or The Big Apple. It wouldn't occur to me, if you said you were from 'the city', that you meant NY.
However, I'm amused by your frustration with the first book. Essays are a difficult style to pull off. I've never found a book of essays that was consistent enough to make me happy to buy all of it. Well, except for anything by Thurber, but, well, I'll read anything by the man who wrote The Night the Bed Fell on Father. *grin ( ... )
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I miss NY, sometimes.
Stasia
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See, I only ask for a few hits in a book of essays, because, yeah, it's hard to hit a high note consistently. So I'm happy to have paid for Me Talk Pretty One Day, because of the essay of the title, which is hurt-yourself-laughing funny. I'm happy to have bought David Rakoff's books, even though they aren't super funny, because they are consistently amusing. I'm happy to have bought A Supposedly Fun Thing I'll Never Do Again for just two of the essays, which are truly funny and also validate all my fears about cruise ships and chickens (living). And so on. And, of course, I am happy to have purchased everything by James Thurber, because he really IS just that funny, at least in the things he wrote in the first part of his life. (I'm also happy to have Thurber's friend and co-worker E. B. White's essays, although they are, in the main, not funny and not intended to be.)
One I've found is Keladry ( ... )
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*notes down 'Megan Whalen Turner' for future reference*
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/london bus icon now doubly-appropriate!
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Stasia
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