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5 out of 5
by
Heather C.
from
Boise, ID | May 29, 2008
Oh my goodness. I have found my new favorite writer. I wish I had read this book before "Truck", as it prefaces a lot of events in that one, but what do you do.
Michael Perry's ability to put into words the people, situations and feelings he encounters is beautiful. I love the area he's from, and it reminds me of the time I spent in Warroad, Minnesota. My favorite paragraph describes his predicament of being a dyed-in-the-wool hick from a small town, but also having the heart and mind of a writer:
"I am impeded by restraint. I avoid bar brawls. Heck, I avoid bars. I don't bowl. I can't polka. In New Auburn, this last is bigger than you think. The standards against which you are measured are dependent on the milieu. Go to the cafe for meatloaf, or watch the old men roll dice at the inplement store, and listen:
"He's quite a worker."
"That boy can knock the stuffing out of a softball."
"The man can flat run a wrench."
"His checks are good."
"She's a helluva shot."
Not frequently overheard: "He crafts a lovely metaphor."
He also has a great website: www.sneezingcow.com
I am hoping that he's writing up a storm so I can enjoy more and more.
2 people found this review helpful
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5 out of 5
by
Nickie
from
Ukiah, CA | Jan 14, 2008
I read the sequel to this book first, Truck: A Love Story, when it came across the counter at the library. I loved it and sought out any other books by the author Michael Perry.
And I loved Population: 485 too! Writers that can hold a conversation with you, make you laugh, and bring on a tear or two are rarefied in my mind. He's very relate-able, and I think even if I wasn't from a rural small town I'd still identify with his portrayal of people and the way he weaves the everyday with musings about what makes this life worth living. People living the happiness and tragedy that happens in life. The stories build up a picture of his community, New Auburn, but really, they're pieces of all our stories.
Some bits (a bit lengthy but lovely) that I happened to mark:
"Having done my grumbling, it seems to me that the globalization of human experience via everything from satellite feeds to online kipper boutiques is good news to the extent that even the most reclusive among us receive daily updates on the complications of the human condition. There was a time when ignorance-and the prejudice it fostered-could be grossly excused as a result of cultural or geographical isolation. Nowadays, ignorance must be willfully tended, like a stumpy mushroom under a bucket. Light is hitting more and more of the earth. Trouble thrives, but more and more humans share a general sense of life as it is on this spinning rock, and that is due, in large part, to war correspondents in Kabul, The Food Network, and lesbian chat rooms."
"Sometimes I go to the forest and prepare to die. So far, I've simply fallen asleep, but it strikes me that sleeping directly on the dirt is good practice for the Big Nap. I usually conduct these rehearsals while hunting. I'll put my rifle down and curl up on a patch of leaves, or settle against the base of a solid white pine-if the air is crisp and I can cop a patch of sun, c'est magnifique...
...to sleep in the presence of trees and in the proximity of the earth is to get a sense of what it is to be holy. They say when Christ needed to get his head together, he did forty days in the wilderness. I stop at forty winks, but I believe I get a taste of what he was after. When I sleep on the forest floor, I never feel as if I'm simply taking a nap. I feel as if I'm performing some sort of embryonic ritual. When I awaken, I feel as if some important work has been done. This is not rest-this is ablution. By placing myself on the altar of the earth and retiring my defenses, I am receding within myself, plucking a little transcendence from the perpetually gnashing jaws of time."
And how 'bout one more:
"The window glass was cool on my cheek, and Wisconsin slipped away in swipes of white and brown. Motion wed itself to freedom, and from that day forward, I incubated a stray-dog jones for the road. It is a quasi-spiritual thing, in which the pilgrimage is the religion, and movement is the purest form of worship. The altars are harbored in truck stops and train stations, the sacraments are served in foam cups, and heaven glows on the horizon. You will desire hymns performed by the prophets Waylon Jennings, Junior Brown, and Steve Earle...but as much as I love to run, I love even more to come home."
2 people found this review helpful
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4 out of 5
by
Gloria
from
The United States | Mar 13, 2009
What a treasure to find this little gem-- quite by accident, I might add, while paging through a sample issue of local magazine that was sent to me.
Perry's thoughtful nature, observations and stories left me laughing out loud (literally), crying and walking away from the finished book with a different view of being "stuck" in Wisconsin. Simply noticing more and enjoying the vast array of people who are here in this cold climate with me.
1 people found this review helpful
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2 out of 5
by
Daniel
from
Cannon Falls, MN | Dec 1, 2007
A memoir, with distracted focus between life in rural America, working on a small town's volunteer fire department, bachelorhood, and death.
The book lacks a focus. Even a memoir has some kind of focus but this tried to do too much. The humor was strained. Things that I thought ought to be laugh-out-loud funny were only slightly amusing. He didn't seem to know how to set up his jokes efficiently and humorously.
Mostly I found this a bit depressing. So many of the experiences that he writes about seemed to end in death. It sure makes me want to steer clear of New Avalon, Wisconsin.
There are some nice reflections on small town life and death and volunteer work, but it was work. It was not an effortless read. I am not impressed with Michael Perry's writing and won't seek out his other work based on this.
2 people found this review helpful
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4 out of 5
by
Mark
from
Lemoore, CA | Dec 25, 2009
This book is kind of a hybrid. There are plenty of wonderful literary works written on the "essence of small-town American life", both past and present. There are also plenty of gut-wrenching, heart-pumping Fire and EMS books for the adrenaline-junkie who doesn't care to put in a semester at the local JC for an EMT license or Firefighter-I academy (if you want a couple references check out Rescue 471 or Firefighters: Their Lives in Their Own Words, or perhaps the new one coming out soon by Shawn Grady).
This book tries to be a "jack of all trades" and cover both realms at once. Surprisingly, Perry does a pretty damn good job of it, too.
One of the chief complaints I hear/read about this book, though, centers on its dual nature. People were looking for a sorta modern-day Tom Sawyer or Huck Finn-sorta "essay on small town America", or perhaps a Midwestern Rehash of Walden, and find jolting scenes from ER, Third Watch, or Rescue Me, thrown in and dissected for flavor. How one can be surprised by this when the by-line is "Meeting your neighbors one siren at a time", I haven't a clue, but apparently at least a few have managed.
As to expecting the tone of the writing to be ... what? "Hick-ish"? "Aw shucks, hyuck-hyuck"? And the subsequent surprise so many show at actual cogent English and coherent sentences... wow. Now I just have to ask, and tell you to ask yourself: is that an issue with Perry...or an issue with you and your preconceived notions?
Rather than blast Perry for not fitting a prejudgment, why don't you just re-examine that prejudice?
Even Perry himself admits in the book to a couple of occasions of trying to "over-intellectualize", and the subsequent figurative face-plant that ensued: the essay he wrote and midway through began a paragraph with "Heraclitus said...", eliciting the groans and dismay of his audience.
In short, it's a glimpse into small-town Midwest America, with an unusual angle... if you're here looking for "heart-pounding ER-style excitement, call-to-call-to-call", you're in the wrong place. Likewise, if you're looking for Walden framed in the midwest, this probably won't be your cuppa joe either. But it's good writing, and good reading, if you can keep your mind open and shoo your expectations of what it SHOULD be away.