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juliasilge's review against another edition
4.0
A funny, smart, charming, feeling memoir about being a father to two daughters, parenthood in general, and living as part of a family. It's too funny and pointed to be schmaltzy but it is unashamedly full of love; my experience of parenthood resonates with Trillin's perspective. In one chapter he says that when his daughters were two and five he thought they were at the perfect age and he fantasized about some kind of freezing technology, but then as the years passed "they always seemed to be at the perfect age". Just lovely.
mrsfligs's review against another edition
4.0
This book is a collection of 16 essays by Calvin Trillin on the joys and travails of life with children. He has two daughters -- Abigail and Sarah -- and raised them with his wife Alice in Manhattan. (Although raising a family in Manhattan might make it seem like Mr. Trillin is from a rarefied world inaccessible to most of us, I found his writing to be down-to-earth, relatable and his observations about parenting to be fairly universal.) Mr. Trillin is a gifted writer, and I enjoyed reading his thoughts on family life immensely. He has an obvious love for his family, a great eye for detail, and a wonderful sense of humor.
This was my first time reading a book by Calvin Trillin. I'd heard of him and seen quotes by him and realized he was perhaps an important contemporary writer, but I'd never taken the time to read one of his books. I can unequivocally tell you that I will be reading more by Mr. Trillin as I think he might be the kind of writer who could write about virtually anything and I would enjoy reading it.
This isn't a book that begs for an in-depth review. It is an easy, humorous, enjoyable read that documents the author's life with his two daughters and his thoughts on parenting. More than anything, this book made me wish I could live in the Trillin family. Mr. Trillin seems like a wonderful father with an amusing and fun personality. I was particularly drawn to his love of Halloween, his obvious affection for his wife, and the family's dedication to making elaborate home movies. I wanted to grow up in the Trillin household!
While I was reading, I kept marking sections of the book to showcase passages that I think illustrate what a reader can expect in this book. I ended up having so many that I'm just going to go through and pick three or four that will give you the best "feel" for this book.
When our older daughter, Abigail, was four years old, she attended a progressive nursery school in lower Manhattan that was sweet and nurturing and, if I may say so, a little bit earnest. It was the sort of place where teachers would say to a kid who had just attacked another kid, "Use words not hands, dear." (At one point, we all began to wonder exactly what the words for sneaking up behind another kid and pulling her hair might be. All I could think of was something like "I'm a nasty little beast who deserves a good hiding.")
I tried to fulfill the mandate every American has to convince his children that they have a cushy deal compared with the deprivations and tribulations he had to face as a child. At one point, of course, I had to quit telling them that when I was a little boy in Kansas City, my sister, Sukey, and I walked ten miles barefoot through the snow just to get to school every morning. They got old enough to check it out. This is always an awkward transition for a parent -- the onset of what I think of as the age of independent confirmation of data. It seems to come rather suddenly. One moment, your daughters are accepting everything you say without reservation...the next moment, you've got a couple of private eyes in the house.
But we all felt that keeping a dog in the city would be too difficult. That left cats. When the girls were asked why we didn't have one, they always said "Daddy hates cats," to which I always replied, "No, girls, hating cats would be prejudice, and Mommy and I have tried to bring you up to oppose prejudice whenever you encounter it. What might be fair to say is that I have never met a cat I liked."
At the very least, parents wonder whether they should worry. I always found it comforting when I'd come across something I could decide not to worry about. Then I could cross it off the list. When Sarah was little, she had an imaginary friend named Craig Binnger. "Imaginary friends are supposed to have names like Jack or Popo or Tillie-bear," I said to Alice. "How come her friend sounds like a life insurance salesman?" Should we worry about that? No.
About the Author
Calvin Trillin is the author 19 previous books, including American Fried, Travels with Alice, Remembering Denny and Messages from My Father. A long-time staff writer for The New Yorker, he also wrote a column for Time and a weekly poem for The Nation. He was raised in Kansas City, Missouri and lives in New York City.
Final Thoughts
A fun, smart, delightful collection of essays on family life by a gifted writer. I'll definitely be reading more books by Mr. Trillin. Any recommendations for the next one to seek out?
This was my first time reading a book by Calvin Trillin. I'd heard of him and seen quotes by him and realized he was perhaps an important contemporary writer, but I'd never taken the time to read one of his books. I can unequivocally tell you that I will be reading more by Mr. Trillin as I think he might be the kind of writer who could write about virtually anything and I would enjoy reading it.
This isn't a book that begs for an in-depth review. It is an easy, humorous, enjoyable read that documents the author's life with his two daughters and his thoughts on parenting. More than anything, this book made me wish I could live in the Trillin family. Mr. Trillin seems like a wonderful father with an amusing and fun personality. I was particularly drawn to his love of Halloween, his obvious affection for his wife, and the family's dedication to making elaborate home movies. I wanted to grow up in the Trillin household!
While I was reading, I kept marking sections of the book to showcase passages that I think illustrate what a reader can expect in this book. I ended up having so many that I'm just going to go through and pick three or four that will give you the best "feel" for this book.
When our older daughter, Abigail, was four years old, she attended a progressive nursery school in lower Manhattan that was sweet and nurturing and, if I may say so, a little bit earnest. It was the sort of place where teachers would say to a kid who had just attacked another kid, "Use words not hands, dear." (At one point, we all began to wonder exactly what the words for sneaking up behind another kid and pulling her hair might be. All I could think of was something like "I'm a nasty little beast who deserves a good hiding.")
I tried to fulfill the mandate every American has to convince his children that they have a cushy deal compared with the deprivations and tribulations he had to face as a child. At one point, of course, I had to quit telling them that when I was a little boy in Kansas City, my sister, Sukey, and I walked ten miles barefoot through the snow just to get to school every morning. They got old enough to check it out. This is always an awkward transition for a parent -- the onset of what I think of as the age of independent confirmation of data. It seems to come rather suddenly. One moment, your daughters are accepting everything you say without reservation...the next moment, you've got a couple of private eyes in the house.
But we all felt that keeping a dog in the city would be too difficult. That left cats. When the girls were asked why we didn't have one, they always said "Daddy hates cats," to which I always replied, "No, girls, hating cats would be prejudice, and Mommy and I have tried to bring you up to oppose prejudice whenever you encounter it. What might be fair to say is that I have never met a cat I liked."
At the very least, parents wonder whether they should worry. I always found it comforting when I'd come across something I could decide not to worry about. Then I could cross it off the list. When Sarah was little, she had an imaginary friend named Craig Binnger. "Imaginary friends are supposed to have names like Jack or Popo or Tillie-bear," I said to Alice. "How come her friend sounds like a life insurance salesman?" Should we worry about that? No.
About the Author
Calvin Trillin is the author 19 previous books, including American Fried, Travels with Alice, Remembering Denny and Messages from My Father. A long-time staff writer for The New Yorker, he also wrote a column for Time and a weekly poem for The Nation. He was raised in Kansas City, Missouri and lives in New York City.
Final Thoughts
A fun, smart, delightful collection of essays on family life by a gifted writer. I'll definitely be reading more books by Mr. Trillin. Any recommendations for the next one to seek out?
ecari's review against another edition
2.0
I finally finished this book and have decided for sure that I like Calvin Trillin in column-format. A whole book is more than a bit much for me. He's clever and there were parts of this book about raising a family in Grennwich Village (not far from where I live currently) that made me smile and wax a bit philosophical about what choices I may make when that time comes. I also liked the description of the Village before it was taken over by Marc Jacobs and Sex-in-the-City Tours. In all though, my parting recommendation is that everyone should run out and read "About Alice", which was fabulous. If you read this, I recommend a chapter at a time, with breaks in-between.
msjoanna's review against another edition
4.0
I really like Calvin Trillin. His essay [b:About Alice|95961|About Alice|Calvin Trillin|http://photo.goodreads.com/books/1171308056s/95961.jpg|1168959] made me want to read more about his family. I don't always like when authors read their own work, but Trillin did a nice job reading these essays. The essays were interrelated enough to make a coherent book even though they were on somewhat disparate topics. Mostly, when I hear Trillin reflect on his life, I have to get past my own jealousy that I don't live in the West Village of Manhattan, work from home and travel around doing reporting work. Why wasn't I born a poet? Trillin seems to understand how privileged his life is, but that doesn't quite eliminate my envy--it just makes me like Trillin better. Anyway, a nice summer read.
jeremyhornik's review against another edition
3.0
Amiable, funny. Some nice observations on parenting, but mostly just droll. I like Calvin Trillin a lot, but some of the bits can get repetitive from book to book.
analyticali's review against another edition
4.0
I'm smitten with Calvin, his writing, and the life he lived as co-parent with Alice in NYC. His sense of humor makes me laugh out loud when I least expect to. I particularly enjoyed Alice's economic theories and Calvin's suggestion that we change our national thanksgiving dish to spaghetti carbonara, but in general, despite his repeated protests that he doesn't want to offer parenting advice, I feel like the stories he tells offer a particularly appealing way to raise children.
meli65's review against another edition
2.0
Again, not a terrible book -- some light (lite) essays about family life.
somechelsea's review
5.0
I love Calvin Trillin. He reminds me of [a:Bill Bryson|7|Bill Bryson|https://images.gr-assets.com/authors/1189096502p2/7.jpg], but with more of a focus on his family (and his stomach; if anyone can beat Bryson in stomach talk, it's Trillin). A quick read, funny and sweet.
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