THE CEO OF THE SOFA

Name: THE CEO OF THE SOFA
Author: P.J. O’Rourke
ISBN: 0-87113-825-5

by P.J. O’Rourke ‧ RELEASE DATE: Sept. 1, 2001

Conservatively speaking, O’Rourke’s current patchwork is not up to his previous entries. But as Dave Barry’s goofy, evil...

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O’Rourke (Eat the Rich, 1998, etc.), sharpest of the right-wing comic writers—not a populous gang, to be sure—this time stays at home to deliver his caustic, frequently malevolent commentary.

The stock characters who help the this domestic Republican Dagwood launch miscellaneous brickbats at “dupes,” “bakeheads,” “nooky-moochers,” “hair farmers,” “bird-brains,” and a “hay-breath” include a clever spouse, assistant Max, a couple of offspring, and a teenage neighbor. There are a dozen chapters with monthly headings, though there’s little relation to monthly events, in which O’Rourke unloads on disparate topics. Of course, there’s the UN, Social Security, and Third Way Economics (with help from the Cato Institute). There’s much ad hominem about the Clintons. (He alludes to the distaff Clinton as “that she-ape from New York State.”) There are digressions regarding drugs, booze, art, and business management as well as connubial and parental matters. For no special reason, there is also a long, patently recycled piece about India. Venice as presented in Las Vegas is preferred to the Italian original. He proposes a campaign for a politically correct cause (“Slogan: ‘Alzheimer’s—Fergedaboutdit!’ ”) and waxes kind of enthusiastic about cigars (though a beat behind the craze). Throughout, O’Rourke is as self-assured as any New York mayor, grandly dissing any ideology insufficiently libertarian. Sometimes it’s quite funny and sometimes, like the wine-tasting parody, it has no nose, no legs—it’s simply jejune. One natural target for any other professional political japester, George W. Bush, is never approached—but no surprise there. By the final entry, for August 2001, the rant is no more than bile.

Conservatively speaking, O’Rourke’s current patchwork is not up to his previous entries. But as Dave Barry’s goofy, evil twin, he’s still funnier than Pat Buchanan or Arianna Huffington.

Pub Date: Sept. 1, 2001

ISBN: 0-87113-825-5

Page Count: 272

Publisher: Atlantic Monthly

Review Posted Online: May 19, 2010

Kirkus Reviews Issue: July 15, 2001

Categories:

GENERAL NONFICTION

- BOOK REVIEW
A CRY FROM THE FAR MIDDLE
by P.J. O’Rourke

- BOOK REVIEW
NONE OF MY BUSINESS
by P.J. O’Rourke

- BOOK REVIEW
HOW THE HELL DID THIS HAPPEN?
by P.J. O’Rourke

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NUTCRACKER

by E.T.A. Hoffmann ‧ RELEASE DATE: Oct. 28, 1996

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This is not the Nutcracker sweet, as passed on by Tchaikovsky and Marius Petipa. No, this is the original Hoffmann tale of 1816, in which the froth of Christmas revelry occasionally parts to let the dark underside of childhood fantasies and fears peek through. The boundaries between dream and reality fade, just as Godfather Drosselmeier, the Nutcracker's creator, is seen as alternately sinister and jolly. And Italian artist Roberto Innocenti gives an errily realistic air to Marie's dreams, in richly detailed illustrations touched by a mysterious light. A beautiful version of this classic tale, which will captivate adults and children alike. (Nutcracker; $35.00; Oct. 28, 1996; 136 pp.; 0-15-100227-4)

Pub Date: Oct. 28, 1996

ISBN: 0-15-100227-4

Page Count: 136

Publisher: Harcourt

Review Posted Online: May 19, 2010

Kirkus Reviews Issue: Aug. 15, 1996

Categories:

GENERAL NONFICTION

- BOOK REVIEW
THE NUTCRACKER AND THE MOUSE KING
by E.T.A. Hoffmann ; adapted by Natalie Andrewson ; illustrated by Natalie Andrewson

- BOOK REVIEW
THE NUTCRACKER
by E.T.A. Hoffmann & illustrated by Julie Paschkis

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TO THE ONE I LOVE THE BEST

EPISODES FROM THE LIFE OF LADY MENDL (ELSIE DE WOLFE)

by Ludwig Bemelmans ‧ RELEASE DATE: Feb. 23, 1955

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An extravaganza in Bemelmans' inimitable vein, but written almost dead pan, with sly, amusing, sometimes biting undertones, breaking through. For Bemelmans was "the man who came to cocktails". And his hostess was Lady Mendl (Elsie de Wolfe), arbiter of American decorating taste over a generation. Lady Mendl was an incredible person,- self-made in proper American tradition on the one hand, for she had been haunted by the poverty of her childhood, and the years of struggle up from its ugliness,- until she became synonymous with the exotic, exquisite, worshipper at beauty's whrine. Bemelmans draws a portrait in extremes, through apt descriptions, through hilarious anecdote, through surprisingly sympathetic and understanding bits of appreciation. The scene shifts from Hollywood to the home she loved the best in Versailles. One meets in passing a vast roster of famous figures of the international and artistic set. And always one feels Bemelmans, slightly offstage, observing, recording, commenting, illustrated.