The latest collection of quasi-autobiographical “familiar essays” by Epstein (Pertinent Players: Essays on the Literary Life, 1993, etc.) offers the pleasures of smart faculty-party conversation. The titular opening essay adroitly addresses the 60ish author’s physical appearance in candid detail. It acknowledges the egocentricity of Epstein’s “familiar” variation on the personal essay, but the self-regarding subject is one he knows well and can make amusing. While Epstein’s topics include the social traps of accents and pronunciation (“So to Speak”), aging past 60 (“Will You Still Feed Me?”), the limits of mere talent (“What’s In It for the Talent?”), and “Anglophilia, American Style,” the main subject is himself, Chicago-born former university lecturer and erstwhile editor of the American Scholar. In the case of his experience with bypass surgery, the result is an extraordinarily obvious and prosaic piece of journalism, but that is an exception. Epstein’s lightly worn seriousness, as well as his gift for self deflation and deft way with quotations, distinguish him from the Andy Rooney—Charles Osgood school of commentating when he tackles such finical matters as snoozing (“The Art of the Nap”), the over-knowledgeable classes (“An Extremely Well-Informed S.O.B.”), and pet peeves (his include dumbed-down footnotes, “fun” as an adjective, and the cult of American celebrity exemplified by “the Swiss Family Kennedys”). He can be something of an old fogey, as when he complains in “A Nice Little Knack for Name-Dropping” that there aren—t any good ones to drop today, or bemoans the decline of popular music in the mildly elegiac “I Like a Gershwin Tune.” Closure comes with a remembrance of University of Chicago sociologist Edward Shils (“My Friend Edward”), who seems to represent an ideal Epstein aspires to, from his transatlantic accent and acerbic sense of humor to his thorough erudition, integrity, and disdain for received ideas and academic cant. Vintage Epstein, for those who don—t mind a faint bouquet of self-absorption.
Pub Date: May 14, 1999
ISBN: 0-395-94403-1
Page Count: 336
Publisher: Houghton Mifflin
Review Posted Online: May 19, 2010
Kirkus Reviews Issue: April 15, 2000
Stricter than, say, Bergen Evans or W3 ("disinterested" means impartial — period), Strunk is in the last analysis...
Privately published by Strunk of Cornell in 1918 and revised by his student E. B. White in 1959, that "little book" is back again with more White updatings.
Stricter than, say, Bergen Evans or W3 ("disinterested" means impartial — period), Strunk is in the last analysis (whoops — "A bankrupt expression") a unique guide (which means "without like or equal").Pub Date: May 15, 1972
ISBN: 0205632645
Page Count: 105
Publisher: Macmillan
Review Posted Online: Oct. 28, 2011
Kirkus Reviews Issue: May 1, 1972
This is not the Nutcracker sweet, as passed on by Tchaikovsky and Marius Petipa. No, this is the original Hoffmann tale of 1816, in which the froth of Christmas revelry occasionally parts to let the dark underside of childhood fantasies and fears peek through. The boundaries between dream and reality fade, just as Godfather Drosselmeier, the Nutcracker's creator, is seen as alternately sinister and jolly. And Italian artist Roberto Innocenti gives an errily realistic air to Marie's dreams, in richly detailed illustrations touched by a mysterious light. A beautiful version of this classic tale, which will captivate adults and children alike. (Nutcracker; $35.00; Oct. 28, 1996; 136 pp.; 0-15-100227-4)
Pub Date: Oct. 28, 1996
ISBN: 0-15-100227-4
Page Count: 136
Publisher: Harcourt
Review Posted Online: May 19, 2010
Kirkus Reviews Issue: Aug. 15, 1996
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