Book review: "You Can Date Boys When You're Forty" by Dave Barry

Dave Barry has written books on home repair, Jews, the U.S. government, money, traveling in Japan, the quirky state of Florida, men, and "Marriage and/or Sex." And each one is hilarious.

But he's never before written a book taking a sober and intimate look at quantum mechanics.

And he still hasn't.


Until he does, we'll have to be content with Dave Barry books like "You Can Date Boys When You're Forty," which I just finished reading.

The subtitle on this book is "Dave Barry on Parenting and Other Topics He Knows Very Little About," but don't let that deceive you. As Barry acknowledges at the outset, his editors just wanted some catchy title. Yes, part of the book is about parenting, but it also covers a lot more.

With all his usual wit, sarcasm and self-deprecation, Barry describes attending a Justin Bieber concert, lists "Things a Man Should Know How to Do," analyzes the plot of "Fifty Shades of Grey," outlines the program for his own funeral, deconstructs the rules of grammar and much more.

Dave Barry fans will not be disappointed -- except by one part. Late in the book, Barry describes his family's trip to Israel, and  the first half of this chapter isn't very funny. 

Not only is this section lacking in the humor department, Barry get's a little preachy. At one point, noting the presence of armed soldiers everywhere in Israel, he says, "It's a reminder that Israel has to always be ready. Always."

 It's as if the Mossad feared that this American humorist would say something offensive about Israel and managed to replace him with a less-funny look-alike for this chapter.  If that's what  happened, though, Dave Barry must have wiggled out of his bonds and escaped his captors midway through the section, because by the end he's back to himself, making pointed fun of Middle East leaders, American tourists and Roman latrines.

Book review: "Real Boys" by William Pollack

I didn't read all of "Real Boys," a 1998 book by William Pollack; I quit after about 110 pages because the book was awfully repetitive. The author kept making the same points over and over and over. A lot of it was redundant. And repetitive.

I think you get my point.

That is not to say there's nothing in this book that's worthwhile. Pollack's main theme is that boys are more vulnerable and sensitive than we realize, and we need to find ways to reach them. In Pollack's view, today's parents are doing it all wrong.

To connect with boys, Pollack recommends:

• At least once a day, give your boy your undivided attention
• Encourage your boy to express a full range of emotions
• When a boy expresses vulnerable feelings, avoid teasing or taunting him
• Avoid shaming language (e.g. "What happened?" is better than "How could you do that?")
• Look behind a boy's anger to find out how he needs help
• Express your love and empathy openly and generously

There you go, I just saved you from reading 400 pages.

It's hard to argue with a message to be more caring and loving, but sometimes Pollack goes too far. At one point, he says, "You simply can't give your boy too much positive reinforcement."

Really? I was just reading a different book that said you absolutely can give too much positive reinforcement. It's not too hard to come up with examples of over-praise. Would Pollack support this?: "Hey son, way to go spending all day long in your darkened room playing misogynist video games. I'm proud of you!"

Book review: "Hillbilly Elegy"

J.D. Vance makes it quite clear that he comes from a long line of lunatics.

One great-uncle, after being called a "son of a bitch" by a delivery driver, beat the man senseless and cut him up with an electric saw (the driver lived, though it was close). Another uncle, taking an umbrage at a remark aimed at his sister, forced a man to eat a pair of girls underwear. At gunpoint.

Vance's grandmother, who he called Mamaw, once was so fed up with her husband's drinking that she poured gasoline on him and lit him on fire (he survived). Mamaw (pronounced "Ma'am-aw") commonly backed up her bad temper with a loaded gun in her hand.

"Mamaw came from a family that would shoot at you rather than argue with you," Vance writes in his 2016 book "Hillbilly Elegy."

But it was this same extended family who rescued Vance from a turbulent childhood. His father abandoned him early on, and his mother wrestled with depression and drug addiction. It seemed that Vance, like so many other children of Appalachia, would be trapped in the poverty of the southern Ohio town he grew up in.

But thanks largely to Mamaw -- as well as his grandfather and older sister -- Vance not only persevered but excelled. After high school, he spent four years in the Marines, then graduated from Ohio State University and, eventually, Yale Law School.

"Thinking about it now, about how close I was to the abyss, gives me chills. I am one lucky son of a bitch," Vance writes.

It seems a bit premature to write a memoir when you're only in your mid-30s, but I'm glad Vance did. "Hillbilly Elegy" is a fascinating story of an unconventional upbringing and a remarkable example of human perseverance.

If you liked "The Glass Castle," by Jeannette Walls and "Educated" by Tara Westover, you'll like "Hillbilly Elegy."  In each, the author shows amazing resilience amid a dysfunctional environment that most of us would have trouble imagining.

At one point, for instance, Vance recalls what he learned from his Mom and a stepfather (one of many he had) in "marital conflict resolution":

Here were the takeaways: Never speak at a reasonable volume when screaming will do; if the fight gets a little too intense, it's okay to slap and punch, so long as the man doesn't hit first; always express your feelings in a way that's insulting and hurtful to your partner; if all else fails, take the kids and the dog to a local motel, and don't tell your spouse where to find you.

The book is not perfect. The story occasionally clunks to a halt when Vance suddenly shifts from compelling memoir to stuffy op-ed, citing academic studies or dry statistics to illustrate the problems of Appalachia. A chapter on how the closing of Midwest factories has devastated small towns might have been a revealing read — in 1992.

I also wish Vance had included more on his stint in the Marines. He went to Iraq, but barely says anything about it.

Even with those flaws, the book is worth a read. While Vance did make it out of a difficult atmosphere, there are scores more young people who's hopes and dreams are crused by poverty, dysfunctional families and drug use.  He emphasizes that the solutions must come from within those communities.

He concludes: "We hillbillies must wake the hell up."

Book review: "Risk!" by Kevin Allison

I'm not a good poolside reader. Many a time when I go to a pool with family or friends, I bring along a book or a magazine, thinking I'll read while relaxing on a chaise lounge.

But it never works out that way. I might glance at a page or two of my reading material, but it never holds my interest. Instead, I swim, chat, eat, play games or snooze in the sun.  The book or magazine comes home with me, barely touched.

I tell you this to point out how unusual my experience was while on a family trip to Arizona. We stayed in two places, each with a pool. And the book I brought to the pool was "Risk!," a 2018 collection of personal stories based on a podcast of the same name.

After a swim in our hotel's pool, I sat down nearby and decided to start the book, To my amazement, once I started, I kept going, page after page, chapter after chapter. I was utterly engaged.

Each day we went to the pool, the same thing happened. By the time the vacation was over, I had covered over 200 pages in the book.

The stories in "Risk!" are all tales of personal trauma or turmoil. They're told genuinely from the heart, and you can't help but be hooked.

In one story, for instance, writer A.J. Jacobs describes the disturbing exchanges he had with men while posing on online dating sites (with consent) as his kids' gorgeous female babysitter. In another, Lili Taylor recalls the time her mentally ill father challenged her 15-year-old brother to a knife fight.

There are stories of rape, suicide, murder, family conflict, and relationships gone terribly wrong. Sex is a big topic, including kinky encounters with graphic descriptions. Gay sex is addressed more than straight. Three of the stories wrestle with the difficulties of being transgender.

Typically, collections of stories suffer from a disappointing lack of consistency. There might be some winners, but there are losers, too. But in "Risk!," all the stories are engaging. Impressively, almost none of them go on too long. The author tells the story and stops.

While all the stories are worth reading, If I could only pick a handful of stories to recommend, it would be these:

• "Dressing the Wound." A cop recalls being called to help out a young man who had been stabbed in the neck and the surprising events that followed.
• "Another Saturday Night." A transgender hooker describes being kidnapped.
• "Slave." A woman lives out a domination-submissive sexual fantasy that goes too far.
• "Chasing the Sunset." A husband describes the death of his wife shortly after giving birth to their fourth child. 

Encouraged by the book, I decided to check out the "Risk!" podcast. I downloaded an episode and started listening. The host listed four or five storytellers that would be featured. Cool — I was eager for some good stories like the ones in the book.

Then the host started talking, first about the show's financial problems, then asking for donations, then discussing how amazing it was that this was the show's 500th episode. Soon, I realized I was 4 minutes into the show and we still hadn't started a story. He kept talking, rambling disjointedly into any topic that popped into his head.. Six minutes, eight, then 10. At 11 minutes he was still talking and I gave up.

I can't recommend the podcast, but i do recommend the book.