Stephanie Rigsby's Reviews > Death by Zamboni

Death by Zamboni by David David Katzman
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Jan 07, 14

Read from February 17 to July 27, 2010

Death by Zamboni sleuths in capers like Encyclopedia Brown if he were a noir Bugsy, winking nods at the far side, while doing the pee dance with a Monty Python.

Now that I've gotten your attention, let me just begin by saying that DDK® didn't write this book- I did. At least that's what echoed out of my head as the inside read words he'd placed there. That is to say, it is a book for all seasons and great minds alike. It's quite something to discover your very own twin exists inside the author of a book!

I mean... haven't you ever wondered what the dialogue roving through another person's head looks like? Could another be contemplating the same thoughts as your very own? Read it and find out for yourself!

Also, where did such specifically used references which quantify as deja vu familiar, come from? Things only carry resonance when you've felt them enter your own axis of lifetime- could that be part its magic? What is it "they" say? A genius is one who can illustrate that which we cannot draw for ourselves? Perhaps this is a testament to that very skill.

Bonus: This book also comes dressed up in song and makes its reader jig in its giggle-hardy cleverness.

To whit! This page-turner is liberally sprinkled with it, in every nook and cranny, like a generous dose of salt over your shoulder. I know it brought me a sense of luck as I toted it from place to place in my back pocket. Much like the misfit penny I stumbled upon, I was so glad to have made this book's acquaintance!

Dare I additionally mention falling prey to its puns? Riddled into visual free-form, where once they were naught? Imagine it parallels breathing life into limb. From manna into man or in other words- this takes the cake and IS the body of Christ.

I read a lot of children's books. Mainly to experience the verve and vivacity of imagination. A limitless world, unlike one we live in, which shoeboxes and shelves our creativity- as if it is something we should outgrow. Though, real growth lies in keeping ourselves open to all we can imagine as well as that which we cannot. Katzman's work is syruped in playful imagining, without reducing itself via censorship. It retains a language of our familiars, as adults i.e. the profane may be present but is not apologetically masked. Instead, it waltzes around unabashedly with its hairy Cousin It.

In conclusion, I am a book collector. A purveyor of fine literature who, like the Comic Book Guy, prefers a pristine edition. However, this book (which I prize) rests now, undeniably bent in an arc not unlike McDonalds®. I fell swoop too far into its hinges and in my great focus of it, lost track of my senses. I swam through it complete in a few short sittings and rode through it like a wreck. Or at least that's the shape it's in now, compared to my other novels. Apparently, it's a must-read.. you need not think twice!
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