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IN PRAISE OF PROFANITY

A sharp, well-studied dissection of the role of swearing in culture, why people curse, and why it’s good for us.

An academic’s defense of curse words, cusses, swears, and other expletives.

As Adams (English Language and Literature/Indiana Univ.; From Elvish to Klingon: Exploring Invented Languages, 2011, etc.) points out in his critically thorough, engaging analysis, we are living in “The Age of Profanity,” in which social restrictions on vulgarity have eased substantially enough for freer use of curse words, without sacrificing their power or meaning. (The 2009 decision of Federal Communications Commission vs. Fox Television Stations, Inc. helped assert this cultural shift by establishing an emotive standard for exclamatory expletives.) Not only does the author think this is a good thing, but he hopes this charmed age of swearing lasts a long time. One of the social advantages of cursing, writes Adams, is that it fosters a sense of intimacy and solidarity among speakers. As casual inflections to speech, cursing enables speakers to achieve a common ground and understanding. More than coarse or colorful language, proper cursing also has an element of artfulness. As Adams shows, the art of cursing—and cursing in art—reveals cultural undercurrents and personal intricacies that are not as easily expressed through conventional language. But what words qualify as curses, and why? That’s a more complicated question that requires Adams to unpack the meanings of concepts such as obscenity, indecency, and offensiveness. (“Shit” and “fuck” are the two expletives that Adams examines most often.) Citing examples from popular culture, such as the Showtime series Californication and HBO’s The Sopranos, the author makes a strong case for the usefulness, underlying philosophy, and expressive pleasure of cursing.

A sharp, well-studied dissection of the role of swearing in culture, why people curse, and why it’s good for us.

Pub Date: Aug. 1, 2016

ISBN: 978-0-19-933758-3

Page Count: 224

Publisher: Oxford Univ.

Review Posted Online: June 21, 2016

Kirkus Reviews Issue: July 1, 2016

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ME TALK PRETTY ONE DAY

Naughty good fun from an impossibly sardonic rogue, quickly rising to Twainian stature.

The undisputed champion of the self-conscious and the self-deprecating returns with yet more autobiographical gems from his apparently inexhaustible cache (Naked, 1997, etc.).

Sedaris at first mines what may be the most idiosyncratic, if innocuous, childhood since the McCourt clan. Here is father Lou, who’s propositioned, via phone, by married family friend Mrs. Midland (“Oh, Lou. It just feels so good to . . . talk to someone who really . . . understands”). Only years later is it divulged that “Mrs. Midland” was impersonated by Lou’s 12-year-old daughter Amy. (Lou, to the prankster’s relief, always politely declined Mrs. Midland’s overtures.) Meanwhile, Mrs. Sedaris—soon after she’s put a beloved sick cat to sleep—is terrorized by bogus reports of a “miraculous new cure for feline leukemia,” all orchestrated by her bitter children. Brilliant evildoing in this family is not unique to the author. Sedaris (also an essayist on National Public Radio) approaches comic preeminence as he details his futile attempts, as an adult, to learn the French language. Having moved to Paris, he enrolls in French class and struggles endlessly with the logic in assigning inanimate objects a gender (“Why refer to Lady Flesh Wound or Good Sir Dishrag when these things could never live up to all that their sex implied?”). After months of this, Sedaris finds that the first French-spoken sentiment he’s fully understood has been directed to him by his sadistic teacher: “Every day spent with you is like having a cesarean section.” Among these misadventures, Sedaris catalogs his many bugaboos: the cigarette ban in New York restaurants (“I’m always searching the menu in hope that some courageous young chef has finally recognized tobacco as a vegetable”); the appending of company Web addresses to television commercials (“Who really wants to know more about Procter & Gamble?”); and a scatological dilemma that would likely remain taboo in most households.

Naughty good fun from an impossibly sardonic rogue, quickly rising to Twainian stature.

Pub Date: June 1, 2000

ISBN: 0-316-77772-2

Page Count: 288

Publisher: Little, Brown

Review Posted Online: May 19, 2010

Kirkus Reviews Issue: April 1, 2000

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LIFE IS SO GOOD

The memoir of George Dawson, who learned to read when he was 98, places his life in the context of the entire 20th century in this inspiring, yet ultimately blighted, biography. Dawson begins his story with an emotional bang: his account of witnessing the lynching of a young African-American man falsely accused of rape. America’s racial caste system and his illiteracy emerge as the two biggest obstacles in Dawson’s life, but a full view of the man overcoming the obstacles remains oddly hidden. Travels to Ohio, Canada, and Mexico reveal little beyond Dawson’s restlessness, since nothing much happens to him during these wanderings. Similarly, the diverse activities he finds himself engaging in—bootlegging in St. Louis, breaking horses, attending cockfights—never really advance the reader’s understanding of the man. He calls himself a “ladies’ man” and hints at a score of exciting stories, but then describes only his decorous marriage. Despite the personal nature of this memoir, Dawson remains a strangely aloof figure, never quite inviting the reader to enter his world. In contrast to Dawson’s diffidence, however, Glaubman’s overbearing presence, as he repeatedly parades himself out to converse with Dawson, stifles any momentum the memoir might develop. Almost every chapter begins with Glaubman presenting Dawson with a newspaper clipping or historical fact and asking him to comment on it, despite the fact that Dawson often does not remember or never knew about the event in question. Exasperated readers may wonder whether Dawson’s life and his accomplishments, his passion for learning despite daunting obstacles, is the tale at hand, or whether the real issue is his recollections of Archduke Ferdinand. Dawson’s achievements are impressive and potentially exalting, but the gee-whiz nature of the tale degrades it to the status of yet another bowl of chicken soup for the soul, with a narrative frame as clunky as an old bone.

Pub Date: Feb. 1, 2000

ISBN: 0-375-50396-X

Page Count: 288

Publisher: Random House

Review Posted Online: May 19, 2010

Kirkus Reviews Issue: Dec. 15, 1999

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