The Way We Live Now

Shalom Auslander has a gift for locating today's major problems, and for describing these problems in a fresh, funny way.

His new book, "Feh," attacks Wolf Blitzer. (Why not?) Auslander feels disgust toward Blitzer, and toward the ghoulish pleasure Blitzer seems to find within bad news. ("Fifty dead in a shooting? This is a good night for me....")

Still, Auslander discovers himself "infected" by Blitzer. During the pandemic, when Auslander's wife (Orli) tries to narrate positive stories for the little children, chaos breaks out.

"In New York City," says Orli, "residents step onto their balconies to cheer for the healthcare workers!"

"Those workers don't need cheering," says Auslander. "They need decent salaries."

(At this point, the specter of divorce floats into the room.)

Auslander writes beautifully about the "corporeal self." He confesses that he hates his body, and that he once almost died from ingesting a poisonous weight-loss substance. Bravely, he admits to swimming upstream. "I have never, never seen anything rational in the idea of Body Positivity. I see fat men in 'slim fit' shirts, subtly trying to conceal their discomfort. And I think, has the world lost its mind?"

Finally, Auslander has fun writing parodies of hot book titles, from the era of the pandemic: "The Planet Is Imploding," "You Are Racist," "If You Think You're Not Racist, Then You Are VERY Racist," "The Coming Apocalypse."

I thought Auslander's memoir was delightful. It's one of few books that can make me laugh out loud.

Comments

How to Host a Baby

-You have assumed responsibility for a mewling, puking ball of life, a yellow-lab pup. He will spit his half-digested kibble all over your shoes, all over your hard-cover edition of Jennifer Haigh's novel Faith . He will eat your tables, your chairs, your "I {Heart] Montessori" magnet, placed too low on the fridge. When you try to watch Bette Davis in Hush Hush Sweet Charlotte , on your TV, your dog will bark through the murder-prologue, for no apparent reason. He will whimper through Lena Dunham's Girls , such that you have to rewind several times to catch every nuance of Andrew Rannells's ad-libbing--and, still, you'll have a nagging suspicion you've missed something. Your dog will poop on the kitchen floor, in the hallway, between the tiny bars of his crate. He'll announce his wakefulness at 5 AM, 2 AM, or while you and another human are mid-coitus. All this, and you get outside, and it's: "Don't let him pee on my tulips!" When...

Joshie

When I was growing up, a class birthday involved Hostess cupcakes. Often, the cupcakes would come in a shoebox, so you could taste a leathery residue (during the party). Times change. You can't bring a treat into a public school, in 2024, because heaven knows what kind of allergies might lurk, in unseen corners, in the classroom. But Joshua's teacher will allow: a dance party, a pajama day, or a guest reader. I chose to bring a story for Joshua's birthday (observed), but I didn't think through the role that anxiety might play in this interaction. We talk, in this house, quite a bit about anxiety; one game-changer, for J, has been a daily list of activities, so that he knows exactly what to expect. He gets a look of profound satisfaction when he sees the agenda; it doesn't really matter what the specific events happen to be. It's just about knowing, "I can anticipate X, Y, and Z." Joshua struggled with his celebration. He wore his nervousness on his f...

Josh at Five

Joshie's project is "flexibility"; the goal is to see that a plan is just an idea, not a gospel, not a guarantee. This is difficult. Yesterday, we went to a restaurant--billed as "open," with unlocked doors--and the owner informed us of an "error in advertising." But Joshie couldn't accept the word "closed." He threw himself on the floor, then climbed on the furniture. I felt for the owner, until he nervously made a reference to "the glass windows." He imagined that my child might toss himself through a sealed window, like Mary Katherine Gallagher, or like Bruce Willis, in "Die Hard." Then--thank the Lord!--I was able to laugh. The thing that really has therapeutic value for Joshie is: a firetruck. If we are out in public, and he spots a parked truck, he wants to climb on each surface. He breathlessly alludes to the wheels, the door, the windows. If an actual fire station ("fire ocean," in Joshie's parla...

Liars and Saints

Search This Blog