If you buy this Verse Chorus Press collection of Sante's brilliant and entertaining essays on New York, smoking, H.G. Wells's Ouija board, and other sundry topics, you get to feel three nice things: the joy of giving an excellent book; the joy of supporting one of America's talented living writers; and the joy of supporting a publisher located right here in Portland. (And who knows what else you might be doing or feeling at the time you buy or gift the book? Maybe you'll be feeling even more than three nice things in that moment. We don't know you. We don't know how you buy or give books. Who's to say?)
We claimed some time ago that we had read this book and liked it so much that we were soon going to write a proper positive review about it. Then we never did. That is because we are doing this blog on. The. Clock. People! But in that original post we had spoken positively about the book, and now here we are, singing its praises again. So maybe we actually have given that positive review. Right? Kind of? Totally.
Or, if that's not enough, Peter Schjeldahl of The New Yorker called Sante “One of the handful of living masters of the American language, as well as a singular historian and philosopher of American experience.”
Tomorrow: Probably some other book or something. God, whose idea was it to do this every day of the holiday season? This was a bad idea! But like all of our bad ideas, we will see this through to its full badness. If that's even a word. Whatever. [muttering something] [complaint-sounding muttering]