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blueskygreentreesyellowsun's review against another edition
2.0
Almost all the essays were 25-50% too long for their content, which made boredom a constant companion while I read this book. The only exception was the essay on skateboarding, which was interesting from first word to last.
natesea's review against another edition
4.0
This is a humorous and extremely accessible collection of essays that remind me of what a joy his first memoir was to read. The genuineness of his perspective allows connection with each topic. He puts you there with him, wanting to meet these odd folks, and be in on the often bizarre and funny events. I look forward to Wilsey's next memoir, and recommend this to anyone unfamiliar with his work.
kate_elizabeth's review against another edition
2.0
Eh? I liked "NASA Redux," "No Work For Me," and, especially, "The Objects Of My Obsession." On the whole, though, not sure I get the point. Wilsey is so pretentious and so, so privileged, and it's hard to relate to most of what he writes.
heyrinehart's review against another edition
2.0
Review posted to Bookshelf Bombshells at http://bookshelfbombshells.com/review-more-curious-by-sean-wilsey/
In this collection of essays, Sean Wilsey travels across the United States, recounting stories from Marfa, Texas, to post 9/11 New York City, over to San Francisco, and back again to Marfa. Covering a wide range of topics, More Curious has something written with such style and humor as to entertain anyone. As the McSweeney’s Store points out, “These essays—originally published in Vanity Fair, GQ, McSweeney’s, and elsewhere—comprise nearly fifteen years of Wilsey’s most vital work on the glory and the misery, the beauty and absurdity of contemporary America.”
I have to admit, I had this collection of essays pegged all wrong. Halfway through the first essay, “The Republic of Marfa,” I felt like I was undertaking the long, arduous process of driving across country myself… without any music or books on tape to keep me company. I won’t lie, I was bored. After getting out of Marfa, however, this book opened up in a way that kept me entertained and wanting to read more.
Between the essay on skateboarding, “Using So Little,” and the essay on being an American World Cup fan, “The World I Want to Live In,” I was able to find enough gas in my tank to keep driving through to the end of More Curious. In fact, it was “Using So Little” that made me feel like I had completely misjudged More Curious. When Sean Wilsey decides to start writing about what he is most passionate about, in this case his time spent skateboarding and his love of Thrasher magazine, he gives it his all. “Using So Little” is one of the best written pieces in the whole collection; I recommend reading it even if you don’t have any interest in the rest of More Curious.
“Some of Them Can Read” is a surprising short and delightful tale about being an expectant father and rats (um, yes, rodent rats) that had me laughing so hard that I dropped the book on my face in bed. Sadly, “Some of Them Can Read” was the only essay that got much of a reaction out of me at all.
While I enjoyed Sean Wilsey’s tales of traveling across the country at 45 miles per hour in an old truck with his dog and friend Michael in “Travels with Death,” this collection of essays never felt purpose driven. As a reader, I felt like I, too, was rambling down side roads at 45, aimlessly trying to get somewhere but with no real care as to how quickly it would end. If you like clever and well-written, Sean Wilsey’s essays would be a nice grab-it-and-go read for you. This reader, however, needs to be going 70 on the interstate.
In this collection of essays, Sean Wilsey travels across the United States, recounting stories from Marfa, Texas, to post 9/11 New York City, over to San Francisco, and back again to Marfa. Covering a wide range of topics, More Curious has something written with such style and humor as to entertain anyone. As the McSweeney’s Store points out, “These essays—originally published in Vanity Fair, GQ, McSweeney’s, and elsewhere—comprise nearly fifteen years of Wilsey’s most vital work on the glory and the misery, the beauty and absurdity of contemporary America.”
I have to admit, I had this collection of essays pegged all wrong. Halfway through the first essay, “The Republic of Marfa,” I felt like I was undertaking the long, arduous process of driving across country myself… without any music or books on tape to keep me company. I won’t lie, I was bored. After getting out of Marfa, however, this book opened up in a way that kept me entertained and wanting to read more.
Between the essay on skateboarding, “Using So Little,” and the essay on being an American World Cup fan, “The World I Want to Live In,” I was able to find enough gas in my tank to keep driving through to the end of More Curious. In fact, it was “Using So Little” that made me feel like I had completely misjudged More Curious. When Sean Wilsey decides to start writing about what he is most passionate about, in this case his time spent skateboarding and his love of Thrasher magazine, he gives it his all. “Using So Little” is one of the best written pieces in the whole collection; I recommend reading it even if you don’t have any interest in the rest of More Curious.
“Some of Them Can Read” is a surprising short and delightful tale about being an expectant father and rats (um, yes, rodent rats) that had me laughing so hard that I dropped the book on my face in bed. Sadly, “Some of Them Can Read” was the only essay that got much of a reaction out of me at all.
While I enjoyed Sean Wilsey’s tales of traveling across the country at 45 miles per hour in an old truck with his dog and friend Michael in “Travels with Death,” this collection of essays never felt purpose driven. As a reader, I felt like I, too, was rambling down side roads at 45, aimlessly trying to get somewhere but with no real care as to how quickly it would end. If you like clever and well-written, Sean Wilsey’s essays would be a nice grab-it-and-go read for you. This reader, however, needs to be going 70 on the interstate.
cjf's review against another edition
4.0
Zadie Smith, quoted by Sean Wilsey in the introduction to More Curious:
"Underneath the professional smiles there is a sadness in this country that is sunk so deep in the culture you can taste it in your morning Cheerios."
Wilsey concludes his introduction, “Escaping from sadness is what made this country. We are all escapees.” His heroes, Thomas Pynchon and Joseph Mitchell, he writes, are escape artists.
Melville, in the opening of Moby-Dick:
"Whenever I find myself growing grim about the mouth; whenever it is a damp drizzly November in my soul; whenever I find myself involuntarily pausing before coffin warehouses, and bring up the rear of every funeral I meet; and especially whenever my hypos get such an upper hand of me, that it requires a strong moral principle to prevent me from deliberately stepping into the street, and methodically knocking people’s hats off — then, I account it high time to get to sea as soon as I can. This is my substitute for pistol and ball."
The United States of America is made up of 3.79 million square miles of sadness. Its total sadness is over three thousands miles wide. At Mount McKinley, the sadness reaches an altitude of 20,377 feet above sea level. To each his own terrain. Ishmael hit the sea. Wilsey merges carefully onto the interstate."
In “Travels With Death,” a half-conscious reworking of Steinbeck’s Travels With Charley, Wilsey drives an uncomfortable, kitschy 1960 Chevy Apache 10, which he bought from a man around Marfa, from Far West Texas to New York City, nearly 2,500 miles, with his wolf-dog “Charlie” (named after Charlie Chaplin) and an architect. We are told that the truck cannot be driven over 45 miles per hour, or else its engine will explode. Wilsey, on the bad idea:
"To better understand the comedy and poverty of the United States, I decided to cross them very slowly."
Wilsey quickly learns that forty-five is too slow, too much.
More Curious collects thirteen essays on America by Sean Wilsey (The New Yorker, McSweeney’s), written between 1998 and 2014. Other essay subjects include: NASA, skateboarding, fine German and Italian appliances, the restauranteur Danny Meyer, volunteering after 9/11, and Marfa, Texas (twice).
"Underneath the professional smiles there is a sadness in this country that is sunk so deep in the culture you can taste it in your morning Cheerios."
Wilsey concludes his introduction, “Escaping from sadness is what made this country. We are all escapees.” His heroes, Thomas Pynchon and Joseph Mitchell, he writes, are escape artists.
Melville, in the opening of Moby-Dick:
"Whenever I find myself growing grim about the mouth; whenever it is a damp drizzly November in my soul; whenever I find myself involuntarily pausing before coffin warehouses, and bring up the rear of every funeral I meet; and especially whenever my hypos get such an upper hand of me, that it requires a strong moral principle to prevent me from deliberately stepping into the street, and methodically knocking people’s hats off — then, I account it high time to get to sea as soon as I can. This is my substitute for pistol and ball."
The United States of America is made up of 3.79 million square miles of sadness. Its total sadness is over three thousands miles wide. At Mount McKinley, the sadness reaches an altitude of 20,377 feet above sea level. To each his own terrain. Ishmael hit the sea. Wilsey merges carefully onto the interstate."
In “Travels With Death,” a half-conscious reworking of Steinbeck’s Travels With Charley, Wilsey drives an uncomfortable, kitschy 1960 Chevy Apache 10, which he bought from a man around Marfa, from Far West Texas to New York City, nearly 2,500 miles, with his wolf-dog “Charlie” (named after Charlie Chaplin) and an architect. We are told that the truck cannot be driven over 45 miles per hour, or else its engine will explode. Wilsey, on the bad idea:
"To better understand the comedy and poverty of the United States, I decided to cross them very slowly."
Wilsey quickly learns that forty-five is too slow, too much.
More Curious collects thirteen essays on America by Sean Wilsey (The New Yorker, McSweeney’s), written between 1998 and 2014. Other essay subjects include: NASA, skateboarding, fine German and Italian appliances, the restauranteur Danny Meyer, volunteering after 9/11, and Marfa, Texas (twice).
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