Here’s a late passage that sums up this extremely enjoyable book:
“Come July it will have been 27 years we’ve run the camp,” said Carol. “And right after it opened I had a guy come up to me. ‘Carol,’ he said, ‘you know the trail from that comes down to the water?’ And I said, ‘Yeah, I know it,’ and he said ‘Why didn't you cut it straighter? It meanders, Carol.’ See, he was an engineer, and everywhere he looked, he saw the straight lines that people could have made but failed to. And I said, ‘I thought that was straight,’ and he said, ‘Well, it isnt.’ And I said, ‘You get your own camp and you can make the trails any way you want.’
A large cast of characters, who meander through the months that make their lives. I don’t believe there’s a chance of a straight line and indeed the book itself doesn’t have much of a plot. It’s a rendering of many characters in a fading midwestern town. The selling points are the low-key humor and the cast.
Tom Drury is adept at drawing a character with description and detail:
One Saturday, Sheriff Dan Norman was kneeling on the top of his trailer house, trying to patch a rusty spot that was beginning to leak, when a religious woman came by. She had yellow hair pulled into a thick braid. Her Bible was white, and she held it in both hands, like a big white sandwich.
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His name was Frank. He was a handsome man in a yellow shirt who sold billboard space and breath mints. He had been popular in high school and felt somehow victimized by everything that came after.
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Over the counter Johnny White was hitting golf balls at a putting machine.
“Johnny?” said Tiny.
“Shh,” said Johnny. “If this goes in, I’ll be a success in life.”
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Louise watched them go, and noticed Hans Cook sitting two rows back. The chairs were small, especially in relation to Hans. He wore a red Tyrolean hat and smoked a Tiparillo, the ash of which he deposited in the cuff of his gray pants.
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Then Dave Green came to the door. He wore jeans, a turquoise sweatshirt, and glasses with black frames. He was in shape.
For me, one of the funniest passages was this:
The waitress took her dishes to the kitchen, and the man with the Heinlein book came over and sat down. He was pale and straw-haired, and wore a sweatshirt from Storybook Gardens in Wisconsin. His name was Mike, and he claimed to be the distributor in this area for a self-help program called Lunarhythm. Tiny wondered if Mike approached every stranger or just those who seemed to need self-help.
“I’ll start a sentence and you finish it,” said Mike. “‘I don’t mean to complain, but —’”
“I get headaches sometimes.”
“Good. ‘If there was one thing I could change about myself —”
“I would go ahead and do it.”
“‘I wish I were an eagle, with —‘“
“‘With?’ What do you mean?”
“There is no right or wrong answer. ‘I wish I were an eagle, with —‘“
“Deadly claws.”
“Sure. ‘Deadly claws’ is fine. Why not . . . ‘I don’t consider myself a loser, and yet —‘“
“I have lost things.”
I recommend this book! By page 19 I was looking up what else Tom Drury had written so I could put it on my list, and scrambled to finish it by New Year’s Eve, so I could give it to my mother who would be taking long flight the next day.