Hmm... how to describe Dave Hill. When I've seen him on TV, he seems sweet, naive, wide-eyed and quite harmless in his pastel jackets - that is until he lets out a zinger that comes from left field
This book is exactly like that. You get autobiographical essays that start out innocently enough but then take you on a wild ride that ends in a sudden snort or a spray of coffee on your cat or unfortunate friend. People will ask you to explain but it's a little too complicated and I'm afraid something will be lost in the telling - you just have to read the book.
This isn't a stand up routine - no litany of familiar jokes and self-deprecating jabs. It's genuine and fearless in its revelations. It's a series of essays that flow naturally as an autobiography. It's smart and silly; mundane and eccentric; funny and sad; sweet and caustic. In short, it will make you laugh and cry - but mostly laugh.
My favorite chapters? I Loved "I Kind of Remember You in the Chelsea Hotel" - so funny and familiar. As a provincial mid-westerner I can identify with the awe, disappointment, and joy that my first visit to the BIG city inspired. My other favorite is the sweet "Bunny." Dare I say that in this chapter Dave is figuratively nude - tastefully nude.
No worries, Dave - I totally think that this book will get you laid. There are a lot of women who can't resist erudite, goofy, sweet, funny men who love their mom (not in a Norman Bates way, though). I know because a guy with all of those qualities moved in next door & I couldn't believe my luck so I married him.
Full disclosure here (no pun): I did not win this book. In spite of that I am giving it a most favorable review. A pox on those of you who won a copy.