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Summer
Summer...Now it never has to end.
Thirty-seven of America's favorite writers celebrate the season John Updike characterizes as "a land of ice and ice cream and baseball and beach picnics and outdoor concerts, of freedom felt in the body itself."
With more than seventy photographs and paintings.
Thirty-seven of America's favorite writers celebrate the season John Updike characterizes as "a land of ice and ice cream and baseball and beach picnics and outdoor concerts, of freedom felt in the body itself."
With more than seventy photographs and paintings.
252 pages, Hardcover
Published January 1, 1990
15 people want to read
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Displaying 1 - 2 of 2 reviews
July 15, 2014
This lovely book features artwork, essays and poems about the season. Calvin Trillin, Louise Erdrich, Meg Wolitzer, John Updike and Wallace Stevens are all here, yet most of the literary efforts contained in these pages are somewhat meandering, and didn't really seem focused on what makes summer special.
There were a few standouts:
Marianne Gingher remembers how even an enjoyable family vacation can have its moments of sweaty, personal hell:
We climbed back into the Plymouth whimpering, fussing, picking fights. You could feel the heat of the asphalt soaking through the rubber soles of your P.F. Flyers, melting them down. The sun flattened the tops of our heads, heavy as an iron, and the interior of the unshaded Plymouth roared like a furnace. Our skin stuck to the upholstery...
And Ogden Nash manages to sum things up rather nicely with his poem, Summer Serenade:
When the thunder stalks the sky,
When tickle-footed walks the fly,
When shirt is wet and throat is dry,
Look, my darling, that's July.
Though the grassy lawn be leather,
And prickly temper tug the tether,
Shall we postpone our love for weather?
If we must melt, let's melt together!
Though some of the writing fails to remind us of why we love and hate summer, the photos and paintings that decorate the book are both gorgeous and evocative. Here are the glorious sun-dappled lawns, Adirondack chairs, family reunions, carnivals, welcoming front porches, kids cavorting in sprinklers and tanned bodies lying poolside that truly mean S-U-M-M-E-R is here.
The whole thing just makes me want to walk barefoot in the grass, buy a Choco-Taco from the ice cream truck (even though it insists on assaulting my ears with a putrid, looping version of "Turkey in the Straw"), and lie in a hammock until the cows come home (or a spider crawls on me), whichever comes first.
Could someone please get me a glass of lemonade? And don't forget the bendy-straw.
There were a few standouts:
Marianne Gingher remembers how even an enjoyable family vacation can have its moments of sweaty, personal hell:
We climbed back into the Plymouth whimpering, fussing, picking fights. You could feel the heat of the asphalt soaking through the rubber soles of your P.F. Flyers, melting them down. The sun flattened the tops of our heads, heavy as an iron, and the interior of the unshaded Plymouth roared like a furnace. Our skin stuck to the upholstery...
And Ogden Nash manages to sum things up rather nicely with his poem, Summer Serenade:
When the thunder stalks the sky,
When tickle-footed walks the fly,
When shirt is wet and throat is dry,
Look, my darling, that's July.
Though the grassy lawn be leather,
And prickly temper tug the tether,
Shall we postpone our love for weather?
If we must melt, let's melt together!
Though some of the writing fails to remind us of why we love and hate summer, the photos and paintings that decorate the book are both gorgeous and evocative. Here are the glorious sun-dappled lawns, Adirondack chairs, family reunions, carnivals, welcoming front porches, kids cavorting in sprinklers and tanned bodies lying poolside that truly mean S-U-M-M-E-R is here.
The whole thing just makes me want to walk barefoot in the grass, buy a Choco-Taco from the ice cream truck (even though it insists on assaulting my ears with a putrid, looping version of "Turkey in the Straw"), and lie in a hammock until the cows come home (or a spider crawls on me), whichever comes first.
Could someone please get me a glass of lemonade? And don't forget the bendy-straw.
July 29, 2024
I love the summer. Every summer I pull this book of essays off the shelf and read one or two of them. I have my favorites, of course.
Displaying 1 - 2 of 2 reviews