By Jean Shepherd
Jean Shepherd was once one in every of America's favourite humorists, his so much outstanding fulfillment being the construction of the indefatigable Ralphie Parker and his quest for a BB gun within the vacation vintage A Christmas Story. yet he used to be much more, a comic book Garrison Keillor--like determine whose specified voice transcended the airwaves and affected a complete iteration of nostalgic americans.
A Fistful of Fig Newtons is vintage Jean Shepherd--sidesplittingly humorous and sardonically irreverent. listed here are Shepherd's wild and wacky adventures, a dozen truer-than-life stories of faculty existence at the G.I. invoice, of "Kidhood" in Hammond, Indiana, of tailgating at the Jersey Turnpike, and of different commonplace defeats and humilations. it's a exceptional comedian overview of yankee life--all of them brought in Jean Shepherd's witty, stylish, unforgettable type.
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Extra info for A Fistful of Fig Newtons
It gave out a pretty primitive sound by today’s standards, but I remember us crouching around it happily for hours, taking off one track, carefully lowering the needle down onto another. We loved playing different versions of the same song, then arguing about the lyrics, or about the singers’ interpretations. Was that line really supposed to be sung so ironically? Was it better to sing “Georgia on My Mind” as though Georgia was a woman or the place in America? We were especially pleased when we found a recording—like Ray Charles singing “Come Rain or Come Shine”—where the words themselves were happy, but the interpretation was pure heartbreak.
She was one of those American ladies who are so classy, with great hair, clothes and figure, you don’t realise they’re not so young until you see them up close. Far away, I might have mistaken her for a model out of those glossy fashion magazines. But when she sat down next to Mr. Gardner and pushed her dark glasses onto her forehead, I realised she must be at least fifty, maybe more. Mr. ” Mrs. Gardner flashed me a smile that was kind of forced, then said to her husband: “So who’s this? ” “That’s right, honey.
Gardner didn’t respond for some time. We were back in the dark again, going along a narrow canal past dimly lit doorways, when he said: “My friend, you come from a communist country. ” “Mr. Gardner,” I said, “my country isn’t communist any more. ” “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to denigrate your nation. You’re a brave people. I hope you win peace and prosperity. But what I intended to say to you, friend, what I meant was that coming from where you do, quite naturally, there are many things you don’t understand yet.