THE BEAR IN THE ATTIC

After 15 collected frolics (Into the Twilight, Endlessly Grousing, 1997, etc.), McManus returns, still camping in territory as daunting as his own backyard.

As usual, this is a comic backpack full of ineptitude in thick woods. With old reliable stock players like wife Bun, Retch Sweeney, Rancid Crabtree, and Crazy Eddie Muldoon, supported by Dicky Scroon Esq. and cousin Vile, McManus hikes past Starvation Flats to bivouac betwixt Mt. Horrible and Mt. Misery. In the author’s blistered hands, the environs of Blight, Idaho, are as real as those of Lake Woebegon or Yoknapatawpha County. Blight County is where our woodland Münchhausen does some of his hunting and fishing and most of his talking. He discusses his considerable concern with fearsome bears and comments at length on his bewildered feet. But along with contemplation on matters ursine and podiatric, McManus also communes with nature, insects in particular. He offers one chapter comprised of two sentences nearly sufficient to compete in length, though not topic, with Molly Bloom’s closing monologue in Ulysses. The Maupassant of Outdoor Life (where most of these pieces first appeared) presents stories in fine country style about mud, wiener stews, and Bob the celebrated wrestling toad of Blight County. In the personal-history department, we’re told that young Pat learned to drive in a truck that had a first gear so low it “could almost climb trees, and occasionally made the attempt.” Like many grown men, McManus has the psyche of a ten-year-old, and the tall tales of his youth when everything cost fifteen cents will evoke smiles. He is adept at baiting and playing out his pieces until he hooks readers. It’s a game of catch and release with his audience.

For the reader who once wore a mackinaw or grasped a shotgun shell or bamboo fishing pole, McManus once again offers a camp right at home—and real bucolic fun.