At Wit's End (Bombeck)
(Not a review, just some notes to help me remember the things I've read. But written this way because it's the Internet, and some people will stumble across this page.)
This was a paperback that I had for a very long time and which became my in-pool reading book. That is, a book, should it happen to fall in, I wouldn't be too concerned about it. Obviously, this is not something I could do with loaners or books that I'd prefer to hold onto.
I used the Good Reads image because it matches the edition I have. It's old, although not 1965-old. Actually, I was surprised that the book itself dated to 1964. I know Bombeck was a pioneer and that my parents and older siblings read her newspaper columns, but I didn't think she'd started back then. Given the idyllic family life that she takes to task, I should've realized it.
Where this book came from, I couldn't possibly remember. Likely a used book store, or a used whatever store that also had books. It was something that I wanted to read and never got around to reading. Erma Bombeck was one of the names that I remember my high school Creative Writing teacher (Mr. Jon Marc Mucciolo) suggesting that I should read. Her name is the only one of the three or four that I remember now. Probably because I knew who she was. I was trying to write humorously, and these were people who knew how to turn a phrase. Also, "Mooch" was trying to impart upon me the idea that humor needed to be about something. For all I knew, it could be a bunch of one-liners. I didn't write bunches of one-liners, but if someone printed them, I probably would read them!
Last two things before I get to the book: first, I titled my final column for my college newspaper "At Wit's End" -- I had thought about calling it "This Wit's End" but I'd only had four columns published in 2 years, along with one that was held so long that I bumped it myself for my final column; second, the only column of Bombeck's I remember was, unfortunately, a more serious piece -- the kind humorists write when they think an issue is so important that they believe it's okay not to be funny while they talk about it. (For the record, I thought it was a stupid column. It's point was made in the first 50 words and the rest was beating the dead horse. Not her best work.)
Okay, so this book is broken down into sections that are labeled by calendar months. I thought that meant that this was going to be a year's worth of columns. I'm not sure what it is. The months are more thematic, where you'll find stuff about particular holidays, school events, summer vacations, and more holidays. There are some short columns, but then there are longer pieces which I don't know if they're related columns strung together, or if individual columns were expanded for the book. Some of these go one for a while and the tone changes after a couple of pages. In syndication, it's rare for one column to continue to the next, but not uncommon for the topic of a popular piece to be revisited. These revisits are pieced together.
Some of Bombeck's complaints are universal, but others are dated and not very relatable. Keep in mind, I'm old, so I have a greater frame of reference to relate to, but a lot of what she presents would be like if the origin Roseanne series had been made at the same time as Father Knows Best or Ozzie and Harriet. The type of family and situations she writes about where not the typical family of 50s and 60s television. But kids are kids, even if the only entertainment was the single television set and the only phone hung on a wall and was used by everyone.
Anyway, I'm glad I finally read this, even though I started it at least four years ago. I was reading it as a substitute when I was covering classes before I made it the pool book. Now I have to find another pool book. I had used old sci-fi magazines, but the print is small and I don't wear my glasses. I don't think I've ever finished one of those. Maybe, one. I do have some old math books, but I'm not sure I want to get those wet. I'll figure it out before my next morning in the pool.
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