JHJ’s cave, oh and Fridayish’s Read it or Rant: The World’s Smallest Unicorn.

I can’t remember if I have already put this out in the blogeshpere or not, but The Brother lives in Las Vegas. He is sleeping on an air mattress in the guest room of his friend’s apartment, job hunting and knitting. Mostly, I hate that he is there. I don’t think he is doing anything there that he could not do here, or at least in Capital City. I think he is missing important stuff here. Oh, and even though he drives me insane, and makes me feel really stupid really often, I MISS him. One of the good things about him being gone is that we all have free access to his cave. When he was here his room was strictly off-limits, and we were never even permitted to peek inside. I thought for awhile there that he was performing illegal surgery and selling kidney’s on the black market in there. Or running a drive through Argument Clinic from his bay windows. But now! Now I go in there all the time! I am taking DVDs and books as often as I want. I let The Son play on the piano in there. With his elbows! And Forehead! His bed is way more comfy than the guest-bed at my parents house, so if I need to nurse The Son, than I go in there. I have a huge stack of movies and books that will have to go back before JHJ comes home (probably just for a visit, but I can hope otherwise), and I have no idea what order they were in. His careful organization system is shot all to hell. ( Can you all hear JHJ groaning and squirming in his seat from here? I can!)

So a couple of weeks ago I went in there with every intention of grabbing a David Sedaris book, (Eat, Pray, Love is still checked out at the Library). The Son was climbing the bookshelves and pulling down decorative containers and throwing Buddhas (seriously dude, what is with all the Buddhas, I understand you may not consider yourself Methodist anymore, but you certainly are not Buddhist!). I was trying to hurry, because I do not want stuff to get permanently broken, so when I got out to the car, I realized that somehow I had not grabbed Dress your family in Corduroy and Denim, but The World’s Smallest Unicorn. So I read it. And LOVED IT!

It is a compilation of Short Stories by Shena Mackay, and I devoured it. I adored almost every single one. I had so never heard of this chick before, but am now actively seeking out every word she has ever written. My favorite stories in the book were Crossing the border, about a retirement home for clowns (!) and Death by Art Deco, a young girl becomes her inspiration’s apprentice, oh and Trouser Ladies, lesbians before it was done. Oh and I can’t forget the Index of Embarrassment, don’t we all have relatives like that? Ones that we appease because we are afraid we will turn out to be just like them?

Her language is just exquisite, her descriptive prowess is amazing for example, “This splay-footed eater of processed foods” (dog) and “…an old woman in purple pompommed slippers, with her hair piled in an elaborate confection of peroxide peaks and swirls on top of her head, cirlces of rouge on white powdered cheeks and a crimson mouth in which her own lips were lost somewhere. Giggling with relief Flora said, I see I have come to the right house!” “What do you mean?” “…The house for retired clowns.” “Next door.”

Anyway, I loved the book, I highly recommend it. And I am glad I missed David Sedaris, because I probably would not have read it any other way. Next up! David Sedaris, Really!

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