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Bad Haircut: Stories of the Seventies
Tom Perrotta made his literary debut with his short story collection Bad Haircut, earning critical praise and comparisons to Salinger, Carver, and Roth by taking readers to New Jersey in the 1970s as a boy named Buddy struggles with the timeless mysteries of sex, death, parents-and of course, bad haircuts.
240 pages, Paperback
First published April 14, 1994
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About the author
Tom Perrotta
33 books2,901 followersTom Perrotta is the bestselling author of nine works of fiction, including Election and Little Children, both of which were made into Oscar-nominated films, and The Leftovers, which was adapted into a critically acclaimed, Peabody Award-winning HBO series. His work has been translated into a multitude of languages. Perrotta grew up in New Jersey and lives outside of Boston.
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Displaying 1 - 30 of 159 reviews
April 7, 2015
I picked this up a couple of years ago while browsing at NYC's Strand Book Store. I recognized the author’s name but had never heard of the book before and it looked intriguing. (Plus it was deeply discounted.) I wasn't disappointed.
This is Perrotta’s first book – he’d go on to write acclaimed novels like Election, Little Children (both made into films) and The Leftovers (recently made into an HBO TV series). But already the casual, knowing fictional voice is well-developed. The writing is clear, unfussy and observant without being self-conscious or precious; the situations recognizable to anyone who grew up in the suburbs.
The 10 stories are all linked by protagonist Buddy, a perfectly ordinary suburban New Jersey kid who graduates from boy scouts, bicycles, basketball and football to learning about alcohol, sex, drugs, betrayal and then death. In short: it’s a coming of age book, a series of random, but telling snapshots.
Adultery, divorce, racism, class and the legacy of the Vietnam war linger around the edges of a few of these tales, and a couple feature acts of violence or vandalism. But there’s nothing melodramatic here. Perrotta gets all the details of this unremarkable, middle-American world right and, although we feel the protagonist is on the cusp of leaving this place behind, there’s no judgement of any of the other characters.
Their flaws and foibles are all too human.
This is Perrotta’s first book – he’d go on to write acclaimed novels like Election, Little Children (both made into films) and The Leftovers (recently made into an HBO TV series). But already the casual, knowing fictional voice is well-developed. The writing is clear, unfussy and observant without being self-conscious or precious; the situations recognizable to anyone who grew up in the suburbs.
The 10 stories are all linked by protagonist Buddy, a perfectly ordinary suburban New Jersey kid who graduates from boy scouts, bicycles, basketball and football to learning about alcohol, sex, drugs, betrayal and then death. In short: it’s a coming of age book, a series of random, but telling snapshots.
Adultery, divorce, racism, class and the legacy of the Vietnam war linger around the edges of a few of these tales, and a couple feature acts of violence or vandalism. But there’s nothing melodramatic here. Perrotta gets all the details of this unremarkable, middle-American world right and, although we feel the protagonist is on the cusp of leaving this place behind, there’s no judgement of any of the other characters.
Their flaws and foibles are all too human.
May 23, 2022
"He was so cool that it took me a while to admit to myself that he was also a little strange. As popular as he was, he didn’t have a girlfriend or a group of guys he hung out with; as far as I could tell he spent his nights at home. He had a cassette player in his car, but only one tape—I Got a Name by Jim Croce—which he played over and over, despite my protests. I gathered from remarks he made that he had experienced Croce’s death as a personal tragedy."
Tom Perrotta and I are more than three years and three thousand miles apart, but the stories in BAD HAIRCUT: STORIES OF THE SEVENTIES, set in New Jersey, share a lot of the same territory of the haunted, hunted, hyper-distracted childhood soul as mine in Washington state, a time when information was talismanic, facts were always subject to a preteen game of Telephone, clothes were itchier and ill-fitting-er, and there was always a transistor radio or a console TV blaring except when you were surrounded by the smothering stuffiness of silence in a church or a classroom or a corner you wish you hadn't rounded while being chased by bullies. Or worse, the telephone that wouldn't ring when you hoped against hope you'd get invited to somebody's pool party or birthday party.
As Perrotta puts it in a foreword to a later edition of BAD HAIRCUT, real life at the start of the Seventies wasn't an episode of The Wonder Years: "Everything that made those years distinctive and weird seemed to have been toned down or erased. Where were the drugs and sex? The racism and homophobia? The violence and cruelty? What about the general air of paranoia and moral confusion, the loss of faith in adult authority that was even shared by most of the adults I knew? That feeling that we’d missed the party but got stuck with the hangover anyway?"
That BAD HAIRCUT is well-written and rich in glide is almost beside the point; what makes it work is simply that sense of being transported back to that time and feeling and remembering that awful, wonderful, horrible, triumphant, awkward time all over again with all the queasy Technicolor texture of a Charlie's Angels episode. The authenticity of the stories are so slammingly apparent that you hardly notice the invisible magic of Perrotta's storytelling gifts: his instinct for conflict, his talent for knowing what to leave out, his unerring eye for period detail that never carries the ostentatious odiferousness of product placement.
In Buddy, through whose eyes we see the world of 1969 to 1980 in these ten stories, we get the perfectly reliable unreliable narrator. He knows what he knows, even when he doesn't know it for sure, because ... you know. He's both the bullied and the bully; the guy who gets the girl except when he doesn't; the kid who's tough enough to wear a football uniform but not tough enough to play. He's on the inside except when he's not; he's got the words except when he doesn't; he knows what the deal is but doesn't understand why the social ground shifts out from under him every single day. he's got the secret handshake to the universe unti he wakes up one day to find that te code has changed and he can no longer get into the cool-kids clubhouse.
Through Buddy we learn about how childlike many adults are, how someone can mash their lips against you one day and look at you awkwardly the next, how you feel like beating the crap out of someone one minute and going home the next, how tribal identity is a good thing except when it isn't, how reputations are gained and lost simply through a single act of passivity, and how a bad haircut can give you distinction and identity that isn't always sad because it means you're fully seen.
Al this happens in a culturally rich time, with the pop culture of the time serving as seemingly ceaseless background noise or defiant cultural signifiers on a peer daring to step out of their own shadow a little: "Allen had hair down to his shoulders and refused to wear the regulation cub scout uniform—he wore the shirt but substituted bell-bottom dungarees for the crisp blue trousers and tied the neckerchief around his head in an attempt to look like Jimi Hendrix." The decade was more, and less, than one giant pack of Bubble Yum. It was every flavor of Bubble Yum, and Hubba Bubba and Bubblicious too, and Bazooka, and ....
"For our first and only Webelos camping trip, Kevin had shoplifted a gigantic T-bone steak, which we never got around to cooking, though we did have a great time banging each other over the head with it inside our tent."
"KEVIN AND ANGELA WENT to the drive-in on their first date. They really hit it off. Burnsy said there was so much heavy breathing in the back seat that he had to get out of the car and watch the second half of Billy Jack sitting on the gravel, holding the speaker to his ear."
"Angela smoked like an old movie star, closing one eye and shooting a slender jet of smoke at the plastic-covered lamp shade. She was wearing a turquoise tube top, and I felt a pang of sadness."
"THE CAMARO WAS brand-new, gleaming white, with a plush red interior and a wicked eight-track system. Caravello’s parents had given it to him as a graduation present even though he hadn’t graduated. In September he would begin his fifth year of high school. Technically, he was still a sophomore."
"He went into these streaks sometimes where every shot that spun off his fingertips dropped through the net with a sweet silky whisper. A look came over his face in these moments that was so distant and serene it seemed almost religious. Watching him, you might have thought he heard God calling his name, or one of Charlie’s Angels."
"I played lead guitar in a band called Rockhead. Music had filled the void in my life after I quit the football team at the beginning of my junior year. The band seemed to offer all the rewards of football—teamwork, dedication, the promise of glory—without any of the drawbacks, such as coaches, pain, and smelly uniforms."
"My friend Ed was the brains behind the band. He was a great rhythm guitarist and the only singer around who could hit all the high notes in a Zeppelin song. He was also overweight and extremely shy, with a bad habit of falling desperately in love with girls he’d never met, and becoming furious when they acted like he didn’t exist. To cheer himself up, he would get drunk and break some windows. It was an exhausting cycle."
"I could see she was annoyed. My mother had a big crush on Andy Williams and often referred to him as her 'boyfriend.'"
"The last thing I needed was to get busted in church."
"While they talked, I gazed out the window at the other drivers. I saw a woman screaming over her shoulder at her kids, who were pounding each other in the back seat, and a guy in a business suit singing into an invisible microphone. I saw a nun eating a McDonald’s hamburger in a station wagon. There was even a man who was reading a book. He was holding it up with one hand and moving his eyes rapidly from the page to the road."
"After twenty years as a housewife, Mrs. Pasco had to get a job to help pay the bills. All she could find was slave-wage secretarial labor for a tyrannical insurance agent who used Grecian Formula, drove a red Corvette, and liked to remind her that she could stand to lose a few pounds."
"Dave’s friend Ted Wenkus had also brought a girl I’d never seen before, a tomboy with a Prince Valiant haircut and a crooked smile, the kind of girl who was probably good at pinball and could blow interesting smoke rings."
"The prom floor was so packed, all you could do was hold your partner and sway a little from side to side. Couples around us began making out; it reminded me of that scene in Carrie, just before the blood started to fly."
Tom Perrotta and I are more than three years and three thousand miles apart, but the stories in BAD HAIRCUT: STORIES OF THE SEVENTIES, set in New Jersey, share a lot of the same territory of the haunted, hunted, hyper-distracted childhood soul as mine in Washington state, a time when information was talismanic, facts were always subject to a preteen game of Telephone, clothes were itchier and ill-fitting-er, and there was always a transistor radio or a console TV blaring except when you were surrounded by the smothering stuffiness of silence in a church or a classroom or a corner you wish you hadn't rounded while being chased by bullies. Or worse, the telephone that wouldn't ring when you hoped against hope you'd get invited to somebody's pool party or birthday party.
As Perrotta puts it in a foreword to a later edition of BAD HAIRCUT, real life at the start of the Seventies wasn't an episode of The Wonder Years: "Everything that made those years distinctive and weird seemed to have been toned down or erased. Where were the drugs and sex? The racism and homophobia? The violence and cruelty? What about the general air of paranoia and moral confusion, the loss of faith in adult authority that was even shared by most of the adults I knew? That feeling that we’d missed the party but got stuck with the hangover anyway?"
That BAD HAIRCUT is well-written and rich in glide is almost beside the point; what makes it work is simply that sense of being transported back to that time and feeling and remembering that awful, wonderful, horrible, triumphant, awkward time all over again with all the queasy Technicolor texture of a Charlie's Angels episode. The authenticity of the stories are so slammingly apparent that you hardly notice the invisible magic of Perrotta's storytelling gifts: his instinct for conflict, his talent for knowing what to leave out, his unerring eye for period detail that never carries the ostentatious odiferousness of product placement.
In Buddy, through whose eyes we see the world of 1969 to 1980 in these ten stories, we get the perfectly reliable unreliable narrator. He knows what he knows, even when he doesn't know it for sure, because ... you know. He's both the bullied and the bully; the guy who gets the girl except when he doesn't; the kid who's tough enough to wear a football uniform but not tough enough to play. He's on the inside except when he's not; he's got the words except when he doesn't; he knows what the deal is but doesn't understand why the social ground shifts out from under him every single day. he's got the secret handshake to the universe unti he wakes up one day to find that te code has changed and he can no longer get into the cool-kids clubhouse.
Through Buddy we learn about how childlike many adults are, how someone can mash their lips against you one day and look at you awkwardly the next, how you feel like beating the crap out of someone one minute and going home the next, how tribal identity is a good thing except when it isn't, how reputations are gained and lost simply through a single act of passivity, and how a bad haircut can give you distinction and identity that isn't always sad because it means you're fully seen.
Al this happens in a culturally rich time, with the pop culture of the time serving as seemingly ceaseless background noise or defiant cultural signifiers on a peer daring to step out of their own shadow a little: "Allen had hair down to his shoulders and refused to wear the regulation cub scout uniform—he wore the shirt but substituted bell-bottom dungarees for the crisp blue trousers and tied the neckerchief around his head in an attempt to look like Jimi Hendrix." The decade was more, and less, than one giant pack of Bubble Yum. It was every flavor of Bubble Yum, and Hubba Bubba and Bubblicious too, and Bazooka, and ....
"For our first and only Webelos camping trip, Kevin had shoplifted a gigantic T-bone steak, which we never got around to cooking, though we did have a great time banging each other over the head with it inside our tent."
"KEVIN AND ANGELA WENT to the drive-in on their first date. They really hit it off. Burnsy said there was so much heavy breathing in the back seat that he had to get out of the car and watch the second half of Billy Jack sitting on the gravel, holding the speaker to his ear."
"Angela smoked like an old movie star, closing one eye and shooting a slender jet of smoke at the plastic-covered lamp shade. She was wearing a turquoise tube top, and I felt a pang of sadness."
"THE CAMARO WAS brand-new, gleaming white, with a plush red interior and a wicked eight-track system. Caravello’s parents had given it to him as a graduation present even though he hadn’t graduated. In September he would begin his fifth year of high school. Technically, he was still a sophomore."
"He went into these streaks sometimes where every shot that spun off his fingertips dropped through the net with a sweet silky whisper. A look came over his face in these moments that was so distant and serene it seemed almost religious. Watching him, you might have thought he heard God calling his name, or one of Charlie’s Angels."
"I played lead guitar in a band called Rockhead. Music had filled the void in my life after I quit the football team at the beginning of my junior year. The band seemed to offer all the rewards of football—teamwork, dedication, the promise of glory—without any of the drawbacks, such as coaches, pain, and smelly uniforms."
"My friend Ed was the brains behind the band. He was a great rhythm guitarist and the only singer around who could hit all the high notes in a Zeppelin song. He was also overweight and extremely shy, with a bad habit of falling desperately in love with girls he’d never met, and becoming furious when they acted like he didn’t exist. To cheer himself up, he would get drunk and break some windows. It was an exhausting cycle."
"I could see she was annoyed. My mother had a big crush on Andy Williams and often referred to him as her 'boyfriend.'"
"The last thing I needed was to get busted in church."
"While they talked, I gazed out the window at the other drivers. I saw a woman screaming over her shoulder at her kids, who were pounding each other in the back seat, and a guy in a business suit singing into an invisible microphone. I saw a nun eating a McDonald’s hamburger in a station wagon. There was even a man who was reading a book. He was holding it up with one hand and moving his eyes rapidly from the page to the road."
"After twenty years as a housewife, Mrs. Pasco had to get a job to help pay the bills. All she could find was slave-wage secretarial labor for a tyrannical insurance agent who used Grecian Formula, drove a red Corvette, and liked to remind her that she could stand to lose a few pounds."
"Dave’s friend Ted Wenkus had also brought a girl I’d never seen before, a tomboy with a Prince Valiant haircut and a crooked smile, the kind of girl who was probably good at pinball and could blow interesting smoke rings."
"The prom floor was so packed, all you could do was hold your partner and sway a little from side to side. Couples around us began making out; it reminded me of that scene in Carrie, just before the blood started to fly."
May 16, 2025
I don't think I've ever blown through a short story collection as quickly as this one.
I've loved every novel that Tom Perrotta has put out, with the exception of The Leftovers, which I have yet to read. What I love about this guy's writing is that he is so straightforward, his prose just flows so easily into my head, and his stories are composed of everyday suburbia.
This short story collection is no different. I don't tend to read a lot of collections, but for some authors I don't like to pass them up. The great thing is that these stories are all linked to one character, Buddy, who is growing up through the 70s.
Tom Perrotta and I are the same age, and his perception of the 70s as a teen match mine very closely, which is the main reason I enjoyed this so much.
The stories are mostly inconsequential, and that's okay. Just being in the moment of them was highly enjoyable for me.
A strong four stars all around.
I've loved every novel that Tom Perrotta has put out, with the exception of The Leftovers, which I have yet to read. What I love about this guy's writing is that he is so straightforward, his prose just flows so easily into my head, and his stories are composed of everyday suburbia.
This short story collection is no different. I don't tend to read a lot of collections, but for some authors I don't like to pass them up. The great thing is that these stories are all linked to one character, Buddy, who is growing up through the 70s.
Tom Perrotta and I are the same age, and his perception of the 70s as a teen match mine very closely, which is the main reason I enjoyed this so much.
The stories are mostly inconsequential, and that's okay. Just being in the moment of them was highly enjoyable for me.
A strong four stars all around.
September 22, 2011
Presenting these vignettes as a collection of stories seems like a lazy way to avoid structuring them into a full-length novel. They're too similar - most, of not all, involve the same protagonist - to be considered a collection of short stories; but the also lack a strong narrative flow to be considered a novel. For all the time the reader spends in the mind of "Buddy", there's never an emotional connection to the character's nostalgia.
That said, Perotta has a talent for painting visceral portraits of suburban disillusionment; and you can see his talent being honed in this collection.
That said, Perotta has a talent for painting visceral portraits of suburban disillusionment; and you can see his talent being honed in this collection.
December 6, 2025
3.5 book
November 5, 2020
In this selection of short stories centered around 1970s teen Buddy, Perotta presents snapshots of an idealised small-town mid century American coming-of-age, with the usual narratives regarding sexual exploits and adolescent angst
My main problem was with the form of presenting it in collection style, rather than simple chapters. None of the stories felt connected, especially since there was rarely any recurring characters other than the protagonist and his parents. Emotionally important characters, such as girlfriends or childhood friends, are dropped in through exposition, to the point where I did not get a grasp of Buddy's feelings or even cared about them. Buddy himself, as well, is a boring character with barely any semblance of a recognisable or interesting personality. I think this was so he could be a blank slate for the reader to project themselves onto, but since a lot of important characters or scenes are dropped in through exposition this aim is rendered pointless and emotionally resonant scenes miss their mark. Also I barely get a feeling for the setting. 1970s America is such a culturally rich and eventful period, yet the only moments we get a glimpse of the time period are occasional references to Vietnam or the Grateful Dead.
I'm going to go back to my earlier point about Buddy being boring,because he truly has no personality. He's mostly a passive background character to events. Random characters who have no connection to him whatsoever randomly drag him along to their adventures (and are never brought up again). Do any of these events have an impact on him? I can barely tell the difference between how he is at the start of the book vs at the end. What bands or movies does he even like?? What do all these girls see in him?? I couldn't even tell you who his best friend is??
The prose is at least simple and the narrative moves quickly, making this a fast read at least,and Perrotta is good at capturing the feeling of small moments such as the feeling of brushing fingers on skin. But overall, a disappointing and lackluster read.
My main problem was with the form of presenting it in collection style, rather than simple chapters. None of the stories felt connected, especially since there was rarely any recurring characters other than the protagonist and his parents. Emotionally important characters, such as girlfriends or childhood friends, are dropped in through exposition, to the point where I did not get a grasp of Buddy's feelings or even cared about them. Buddy himself, as well, is a boring character with barely any semblance of a recognisable or interesting personality. I think this was so he could be a blank slate for the reader to project themselves onto, but since a lot of important characters or scenes are dropped in through exposition this aim is rendered pointless and emotionally resonant scenes miss their mark. Also I barely get a feeling for the setting. 1970s America is such a culturally rich and eventful period, yet the only moments we get a glimpse of the time period are occasional references to Vietnam or the Grateful Dead.
I'm going to go back to my earlier point about Buddy being boring,because he truly has no personality. He's mostly a passive background character to events. Random characters who have no connection to him whatsoever randomly drag him along to their adventures (and are never brought up again). Do any of these events have an impact on him? I can barely tell the difference between how he is at the start of the book vs at the end. What bands or movies does he even like?? What do all these girls see in him?? I couldn't even tell you who his best friend is??
The prose is at least simple and the narrative moves quickly, making this a fast read at least,and Perrotta is good at capturing the feeling of small moments such as the feeling of brushing fingers on skin. But overall, a disappointing and lackluster read.
December 11, 2010
Tom Perrotta has written ten amazing stories that captures the essence of how the seventies were. I enjoyed all of the stories but my favorite story was "Forgiveness", the story was told with so much humility and innocence. Also another favorite story was "Just the way we were", but all of the stories tell a unique story about sexual intercourse anxiety, childhood innocence, nostalgia of the past. This has become my favorite book by Perrotha after reading the previous ones, and it also become one of my favorite books of all time!
September 10, 2018
I enjoy Mr Perrotta's writing but I did not like the last chapter of Stories of the Seventies at all - did he run out of time?
May 11, 2022
I had so many issues with this book...
First and formost, the book is a collection of short stories all centering around a (A-Hole) kid as he is aging from 8 through 18. His name is Buddy.
Buddy sucks for multiple reasons
1) he has little to no overall personality
2) he seems to have no motivations, just follows the evil children around him
3) he is doing awful shit to people all the time but has no lasting guilt for his actions
4) not a single likable or redeeming quality
The stories take place in the 70s and it seems like the only meaningful thing I can take out of the 70s is everyone sucks. Everyone, and there is little to nothing good about it.
The book doesn't quite read as a short story collection either. As all the stories feel more like chapters as Buddy ages. The only thing that makes the book a short story collection is that the individual chapter/stories don't reference the same people. Technically you could read one chapter by itself, but I don't know why you would, or what you would get out of it...
The fact that none of the short stories carry over the same characters is bad. It's like every year Buddy completely forgets ALL people he interacted with and factory resets. Why have the character in all the stories be the same if none of the previous stories impact the main character in any way?
I could keep complaining, but I'll be done.
A very unpleasant read. My first Tom Perrotta flop, I didn't know it was possible.
First and formost, the book is a collection of short stories all centering around a (A-Hole) kid as he is aging from 8 through 18. His name is Buddy.
Buddy sucks for multiple reasons
1) he has little to no overall personality
2) he seems to have no motivations, just follows the evil children around him
3) he is doing awful shit to people all the time but has no lasting guilt for his actions
4) not a single likable or redeeming quality
The stories take place in the 70s and it seems like the only meaningful thing I can take out of the 70s is everyone sucks. Everyone, and there is little to nothing good about it.
The book doesn't quite read as a short story collection either. As all the stories feel more like chapters as Buddy ages. The only thing that makes the book a short story collection is that the individual chapter/stories don't reference the same people. Technically you could read one chapter by itself, but I don't know why you would, or what you would get out of it...
The fact that none of the short stories carry over the same characters is bad. It's like every year Buddy completely forgets ALL people he interacted with and factory resets. Why have the character in all the stories be the same if none of the previous stories impact the main character in any way?
I could keep complaining, but I'll be done.
A very unpleasant read. My first Tom Perrotta flop, I didn't know it was possible.
January 29, 2018
This is a very compelling book if you happen to have grown up in the suburbs during the 1970s. I did (not in New Jersey, but there was little difference), and the world Perotta describes here is sadly familiar.
I’ve read other of Perrota’s books, and hated them—mostly pathetic fantasies of dim-witted narcissists. Neither the characters nor the author ever seem to come to any real understanding of the world they live in; they just fantasize that sex with a new and prettier partner will somehow make everything better.
In this case, though, the inability to grasp the meaningless of life works. That inability just is the experience of the teen growing up in American in the 20th century.
I’m glad I gave this a try—if you hate Perotta’s other succesful books (the ones that made it to the screen), this one is much better.
I’ve read other of Perrota’s books, and hated them—mostly pathetic fantasies of dim-witted narcissists. Neither the characters nor the author ever seem to come to any real understanding of the world they live in; they just fantasize that sex with a new and prettier partner will somehow make everything better.
In this case, though, the inability to grasp the meaningless of life works. That inability just is the experience of the teen growing up in American in the 20th century.
I’m glad I gave this a try—if you hate Perotta’s other succesful books (the ones that made it to the screen), this one is much better.
January 14, 2026
Bad haircut is a nostalgic look back at a New Jersey adolescence in the early to mid 1970s, through the eyes of one character, Buddy, and a series of episodes in his life. So it's a novel-ish collection of linked short stories. it's elegantly written, and has a strong sense of place and time, but the individual stories are strangely forgettable. A while after reading it, the only individual story I could remember was 'Snowman', and then principally because of one scene in which Buddy is punched and has a nose bleed, and he then gets revenge on his attacker by bleeding all over their sheepskin coat! For those of us who remember LPs, it's like listening to an LP that's got a good and consistent mood to it, but no 'hit songs' with strong melodies to remember. Of most interest for American readers who grew up in the States in this period.
June 4, 2012
I had no idea this collection of stories even existed. I picked it up on a whim at a used book store and couldn't put it down. Coming-of-age stories about a high school student growing up in New Jersey in the late 1970's, the same time and place where I went to high school, really resonated with me. Funny, charming, insightful, and every detail was perfect.
September 17, 2023
How many Americans really want to remember their J.H.S. or high school years with poignant immediacy? Even more precise: How many readers want to remember their 1970’s adolescence? Tom Perrota does, or did, since his debut short story collection, Bad Haircut: Stories of the Seventies is a paeon to a time of life and an era that most of us would rather forget. Count me as one of the multitudes who skips high school reunions and only reminisces about these difficult life stages with great reluctance. Tom Perrota obviously feels differently; he chronicles these hard times through the eyes of a protagonist who appears in all the tales, Buddy.
Tobias Wolff’s blurb on the first edition dust jacket praises Bad Haircut and compares it to Philip Roth’s debut collection Goodbye Columbus. Admittedly, Tom Perrota has lived up to the hype. He has written two of the better books on contemporary suburban America: Little Children and Mrs. Fletcher. His humorous look at East Coast suburban Americans over the last two decades makes him among the easiest and most pleasing American authors to read. However, there is often a lack of substance hidden under the artifice and humor. One can easily skip any given Tom Perrota novel (I do not, however). Furthermore, Tom Perrota’s marginal Catholic upbringing does not lead to the same insights into the assimilation issues of a particular culture as Roth’s Goodbye Columbus shows the assimilation issues of a Jewish generation that longed to be more secular. The stories in this collection are mostly light and about boys being boys. One could easily skip the book and just stream Dazed and Confused or Fast Times at Ridgemont High.
Bad Haircut is a strong debut from an—at the time—young writer who seemed to be lacking in world experience. Hence, the concentration on adolescence and high school. Sure, the stories thematically fit together, but there just isn’t the pathos of weightier short story collections that portray a particular neighborhood or era. Perrota’s Darwin, New Jersey lacks the gravitas of Roth’s Newark, New Jersey. Sure, Perrota’s glimpse backward is enjoyable and, for many, cringe-worthy. Any white male who grew up in the 70’s should relate to these stories and the assorted characters which color a childhood. And native New Jerseyites may be particularly appalled at their hysterical roasting in some of the tales. The story “Snowman” stands out and is a harbinger of just how strong a writer Tom Perrota is. A writer who has mastered the short story and can churn out an enjoyable novel every other year. One that is inevitably optioned by Hollywood. That is not a slight, but a compliment.
Tobias Wolff’s blurb on the first edition dust jacket praises Bad Haircut and compares it to Philip Roth’s debut collection Goodbye Columbus. Admittedly, Tom Perrota has lived up to the hype. He has written two of the better books on contemporary suburban America: Little Children and Mrs. Fletcher. His humorous look at East Coast suburban Americans over the last two decades makes him among the easiest and most pleasing American authors to read. However, there is often a lack of substance hidden under the artifice and humor. One can easily skip any given Tom Perrota novel (I do not, however). Furthermore, Tom Perrota’s marginal Catholic upbringing does not lead to the same insights into the assimilation issues of a particular culture as Roth’s Goodbye Columbus shows the assimilation issues of a Jewish generation that longed to be more secular. The stories in this collection are mostly light and about boys being boys. One could easily skip the book and just stream Dazed and Confused or Fast Times at Ridgemont High.
Bad Haircut is a strong debut from an—at the time—young writer who seemed to be lacking in world experience. Hence, the concentration on adolescence and high school. Sure, the stories thematically fit together, but there just isn’t the pathos of weightier short story collections that portray a particular neighborhood or era. Perrota’s Darwin, New Jersey lacks the gravitas of Roth’s Newark, New Jersey. Sure, Perrota’s glimpse backward is enjoyable and, for many, cringe-worthy. Any white male who grew up in the 70’s should relate to these stories and the assorted characters which color a childhood. And native New Jerseyites may be particularly appalled at their hysterical roasting in some of the tales. The story “Snowman” stands out and is a harbinger of just how strong a writer Tom Perrota is. A writer who has mastered the short story and can churn out an enjoyable novel every other year. One that is inevitably optioned by Hollywood. That is not a slight, but a compliment.
March 14, 2012
Moving away from portraying a community (Spoon River, Winesburg, and The Women of Brewster Place) or a family (Monkeys and Garcia Girls), Tom Perrotta offers us another possibility in the genre of the story cycle. His Bad Haircut follows the same protagonist, Buddy, from the first person point of view, and covers the period between 1969 and 1980, with the bulk of the collection dealing with his high school years.
Like Monkeys, there is not much “interconnectedness” because the whole collection is told from the single point of view of Buddy instead of from various perspectives. Also, characters don’t reappear and one story doesn’t affect other stories. There are, as far as I’m aware, only two instances of references within the collection: in “Snowman,” the basketball Buddy stole in the previous story appears briefly (p.89), and in “The Jane Pasco Fan Club,” he mentions Laura Daly from the previous story. In other words, the collection is more “episodic” than “interconnected” and the stories themselves remain fairly independent.
This brings up another point about the looseness of the collection and its novelistic characteristic. Like the stories of Winesburg, Ohio, the stories of Bad Haircut are loose and can stand on their own, but like those of Monkeys and How the Garcia Girls Lost Their Accents, they tell much more when read together than when they are read separately. Because we follow Buddy as he grows up and faces sex, relationships, drugs, and death, our understanding of the character is deepened by the end. But understanding Buddy doesn’t mean we see him change fundamentally. Throughout the collection, he remains ultimately a “spectator,” as driver’s ed teacher aptly calls him in “You Start to Live.” He is “happy to just stand around and watch,” and he doesn’t “take charge of the situation” (p.136). He stays this way from the beginning to the end, and none of his encounters with other characters, or his experience of the death of his neighbor in the final story seems to have much effect on him. He also doesn’t seem to have much agency throughout the collection and we don’t see him in a position to make a difficult choice and change because of it. That is, we see him grow, but not change fundamentally.
This leads to an interesting feature of this collection and the previous two books: their whole is greater than their parts. I would probably add this to the list of characteristics that novelistic collections share. And so to compile the list again, a collection of interconnected stories is said to be “novelistic” when it has one or more of the following:
1) A fundamental change to the place and/or the community or the protagonist;
2) A bringing together of different narrative threads where the reader sees all the main characters;
3) A communal action as the climax.
4) The stories, when read together, tell more than when they are read independently, usually deepening the reader’s understanding of the character(s).
Given this list, is Bad Haircut a coming-of-age novel? Though it certainly has a novelistic feature (#4), it’s closer to the story cycle end of the spectrum. So I’d resist the label “novel” with respect to this book and call it a coming-of-age story cycle.
A story cycle, then, is any collection of loosely held stories organized around some single location or set of characters, and it may have one or more of the characteristics listed above. Which is to say all the books we have read so far are story cycles, but some are more novelistic than others. The Women of Brewster Place is definitely the most novelistic of all, and Bad Haircut the least, though it does have a novelistic characteristic. The important point here is that any given story cycle, or collection of interconnected short stories, can share the characteristics of the novel listed above and place itself closer or farther away from the novel. And if a story cycle has enough characteristics of the novel, it can be called a “novel” (or “a novel in stories”). How many are enough? Since the distinction of “novel” in the case of story cycles runs in a spectrum, it’s ultimately up to the author or the reader to decide.
Moving onto another topic, one technical lesson to be learned from Bad Haircut is that the main character of a story cycle needs to be likable, which may translate to “inoffensive.” Buddy is an inoffensive character who manages to get into a lot of trouble, almost always getting dragged into it. But more importantly, what makes him likable is probably his humor that comes across in his prose. So for example in “Snowman,” when he fights with the lifeguard and rolls down the hill, he tells us: “He pounded me ineffectually on the back while I bled profusely on his coat, rubbing my nose with malicious pleasure back and forth across the sheepskin until I was almost drunk from the smell of it” (71).
More than Monkeys or How the Garcia Girls Lost Their Accents, Perotta’s Bad Haircut shows a unique advantage of the story cycle: it offers the writer a greater freedom to explore a historical period. First, the inherent looseness of the form allows for the freedom to write whatever you want without having to adhere to a pre-planned outline of events or a dominant story arc. Also, because the protagonist is the same throughout, there’s no need to forcefully connect characters as the writer jumps from one year to the next. This means you can write about various aspects of the period without worrying about plot or larger issues while at the same time being able to give the reader a sense of character growth and a deeper understanding of the protagonist. The only thing the writer needs to do is to move the stories through a period, as Perotta does through the seventies.
This advantage may be pronounced in the first person cycle like in Bad Haircut. First, the sense of character growth is probably greater with one central protagonist than, say, a family. Second, speaking of practicality, it might be easier or more manageable to focus on a single main character throughout since you don’t have to keep track of a large cast of characters (as in Monkeys), or figure out what each member is doing every time you move to the next story.
Overall, Bad Haircut showed me another strength of the genre, and broadened my understanding of the story cycle and its relationship to the novel.
Like Monkeys, there is not much “interconnectedness” because the whole collection is told from the single point of view of Buddy instead of from various perspectives. Also, characters don’t reappear and one story doesn’t affect other stories. There are, as far as I’m aware, only two instances of references within the collection: in “Snowman,” the basketball Buddy stole in the previous story appears briefly (p.89), and in “The Jane Pasco Fan Club,” he mentions Laura Daly from the previous story. In other words, the collection is more “episodic” than “interconnected” and the stories themselves remain fairly independent.
This brings up another point about the looseness of the collection and its novelistic characteristic. Like the stories of Winesburg, Ohio, the stories of Bad Haircut are loose and can stand on their own, but like those of Monkeys and How the Garcia Girls Lost Their Accents, they tell much more when read together than when they are read separately. Because we follow Buddy as he grows up and faces sex, relationships, drugs, and death, our understanding of the character is deepened by the end. But understanding Buddy doesn’t mean we see him change fundamentally. Throughout the collection, he remains ultimately a “spectator,” as driver’s ed teacher aptly calls him in “You Start to Live.” He is “happy to just stand around and watch,” and he doesn’t “take charge of the situation” (p.136). He stays this way from the beginning to the end, and none of his encounters with other characters, or his experience of the death of his neighbor in the final story seems to have much effect on him. He also doesn’t seem to have much agency throughout the collection and we don’t see him in a position to make a difficult choice and change because of it. That is, we see him grow, but not change fundamentally.
This leads to an interesting feature of this collection and the previous two books: their whole is greater than their parts. I would probably add this to the list of characteristics that novelistic collections share. And so to compile the list again, a collection of interconnected stories is said to be “novelistic” when it has one or more of the following:
1) A fundamental change to the place and/or the community or the protagonist;
2) A bringing together of different narrative threads where the reader sees all the main characters;
3) A communal action as the climax.
4) The stories, when read together, tell more than when they are read independently, usually deepening the reader’s understanding of the character(s).
Given this list, is Bad Haircut a coming-of-age novel? Though it certainly has a novelistic feature (#4), it’s closer to the story cycle end of the spectrum. So I’d resist the label “novel” with respect to this book and call it a coming-of-age story cycle.
A story cycle, then, is any collection of loosely held stories organized around some single location or set of characters, and it may have one or more of the characteristics listed above. Which is to say all the books we have read so far are story cycles, but some are more novelistic than others. The Women of Brewster Place is definitely the most novelistic of all, and Bad Haircut the least, though it does have a novelistic characteristic. The important point here is that any given story cycle, or collection of interconnected short stories, can share the characteristics of the novel listed above and place itself closer or farther away from the novel. And if a story cycle has enough characteristics of the novel, it can be called a “novel” (or “a novel in stories”). How many are enough? Since the distinction of “novel” in the case of story cycles runs in a spectrum, it’s ultimately up to the author or the reader to decide.
Moving onto another topic, one technical lesson to be learned from Bad Haircut is that the main character of a story cycle needs to be likable, which may translate to “inoffensive.” Buddy is an inoffensive character who manages to get into a lot of trouble, almost always getting dragged into it. But more importantly, what makes him likable is probably his humor that comes across in his prose. So for example in “Snowman,” when he fights with the lifeguard and rolls down the hill, he tells us: “He pounded me ineffectually on the back while I bled profusely on his coat, rubbing my nose with malicious pleasure back and forth across the sheepskin until I was almost drunk from the smell of it” (71).
More than Monkeys or How the Garcia Girls Lost Their Accents, Perotta’s Bad Haircut shows a unique advantage of the story cycle: it offers the writer a greater freedom to explore a historical period. First, the inherent looseness of the form allows for the freedom to write whatever you want without having to adhere to a pre-planned outline of events or a dominant story arc. Also, because the protagonist is the same throughout, there’s no need to forcefully connect characters as the writer jumps from one year to the next. This means you can write about various aspects of the period without worrying about plot or larger issues while at the same time being able to give the reader a sense of character growth and a deeper understanding of the protagonist. The only thing the writer needs to do is to move the stories through a period, as Perotta does through the seventies.
This advantage may be pronounced in the first person cycle like in Bad Haircut. First, the sense of character growth is probably greater with one central protagonist than, say, a family. Second, speaking of practicality, it might be easier or more manageable to focus on a single main character throughout since you don’t have to keep track of a large cast of characters (as in Monkeys), or figure out what each member is doing every time you move to the next story.
Overall, Bad Haircut showed me another strength of the genre, and broadened my understanding of the story cycle and its relationship to the novel.
September 16, 2023
Start reading any book that has a first chapter entitled WIENER MAN and you know it is going to be a treat! Such is the case with BAD HAIRCUT.
It's the 1970's and we meet our young preteen narrator, Buddy, who lives in New Jersey with his parents. Buddy is a typical kid of the 70's. Each chapter moves us along with Buddy as he experiences life in all of its glory.
He deals with his parents, neighbors, jobs, girlfriends, shyness, bullies, driving lessons, drinking, smoking, high school angst, mean kids, and kindness. He believes in himself, he doubts himself, he hates himself, and sometimes feels good about himself.
What I loved about this book was the wit, humor, and how Tom Perrotta always manages to hit the nail squarely on the head. Everyone can relate to Buddy and his normal life. I loved every word of this book and cried and laughed along with Buddy during his adventures.
If you've never read Perrotta, you really should. His books are so wonderfully human and funny, but always making a point and making us look in the mirror at our own selves.
It's the 1970's and we meet our young preteen narrator, Buddy, who lives in New Jersey with his parents. Buddy is a typical kid of the 70's. Each chapter moves us along with Buddy as he experiences life in all of its glory.
He deals with his parents, neighbors, jobs, girlfriends, shyness, bullies, driving lessons, drinking, smoking, high school angst, mean kids, and kindness. He believes in himself, he doubts himself, he hates himself, and sometimes feels good about himself.
What I loved about this book was the wit, humor, and how Tom Perrotta always manages to hit the nail squarely on the head. Everyone can relate to Buddy and his normal life. I loved every word of this book and cried and laughed along with Buddy during his adventures.
If you've never read Perrotta, you really should. His books are so wonderfully human and funny, but always making a point and making us look in the mirror at our own selves.
October 23, 2022
These stories resonated with me; this is a coming-of-age set of short stories about a young boy who lives in the New Jersey suburbs in the 70s with his mom and dad. These are stories about how kids learn about the sorrows and disappointment and narrowness of being a grown up, about a boy's first experiences with sex, about those childhood friendships that seem forged and unbreakable, about playing pranks and learning about consequences, about the bizarre importance of high school football in a small town, about prom night. In many ways these seemed like stories of my childhood, or at least of someone with one degree of separation. They are poignant and sparse and funny and sad. Perrotta is a great writer; this was his first published work and his talent is clearly intact. However, I prefer the length of a novel, esp for character development, which Perrotta does so well.
July 24, 2018
In his first collection of short stories, Tom Perrotta says, he wrote about "everything The Wonder Years left out." The stories begin when the narrator is 8 and end when he's 18, and include bullying, racism, high school sports, sex, and some strange neighbors. One of the things I like best about Tom Perrotta is that he can write about ordinary people in an unpredictable way; I didn't get all the endings of the stories, but I stayed interested and never once saw where the story would end up. Some of my favorites were "Thirteen,""Forgiveness,""You Start to Live,"and "The Jane Pasco Fan Club." Not sure I liked it as much as Thirteen Inches, his other collection of short stories, but I enjoyed seeing the same character grow up.
March 7, 2021
It had a really quaint and peaceful atmosphere to it and I think the fact that there is no true plot with all the stories pieced together helps create this, reading like the character is recollecting memories from the past without any distinct links to them, which I think is how looking back naturally works. To be honest I don’t think I would’ve read it if it was set in the present but experiencing a different time while reading it is what gives the book it’s charm. I wanted something like the film Dazed and Confused where nothing really happens but you’re immersed in a different time and I think this is what I got out of the book.
June 9, 2021
Respected author’s literary debut is subtitled “Stories of the Seventies” and is certainly autobiographical to his age and place of raising (New Jersey). How close the stories are to his actual life is unknown, but they certainly evoke memories of every teen boy’s years of rebellion, sexual longing and bravado. Quick read centers on “Buddy,” but each story stands on its own as he learns to deal with, among other things, guilt over the ill treatment of others, the value of friendship and the nostalgia one feels upon leaving high school.
September 13, 2020
Tom Perrotta’s writing simply resonates for me. This collection of short stories is an easy yet compelling read. He captures awkward moments excellently with a voice that is humble and has an everyman quality. If you grew up in the 70s and 80s this book will be an especially interesting romp. This was a nice little bargain find in half price books waiting to find out how little I would get for 2 boxes of books - $8.83.
October 28, 2017
This memoir by Tom Perrotta is about his high school years growing up in the 1970's. The story felt real but not common to my experiences in the 70's as I was a different age from the author at that time. I found the book interesting enough to easily read through but not the humorous tale I had hoped for.
February 3, 2020
I am not a fan of short stories, but a friend insisted these stories would resonate more because they take place in the 70s. While that’s true to some extent — I did recognize and appreciate many references — my main complaint about short stories i.e. I find them lacking and seemingly incomplete still rang true.
December 30, 2021
This is my second Perotta book, and the first he wrote. It's a series of ten short stories about a boy's life in a small town starting at 9 years old, with each story taking place when the boy is a year older. Good coming of age collection, great author. Worth reading if you like books focused on adolescence and coming of age, I really enjoyed it.
December 14, 2024
funny and sad
I normally dislike essays but this was a really cohesive set of short stories about a young boy name Buddy from childhood to college. At times funny, cringeworthy and poignant the fact they are set in the 70's made them appealing to someone my age. Well done Tom Perrotta.
I normally dislike essays but this was a really cohesive set of short stories about a young boy name Buddy from childhood to college. At times funny, cringeworthy and poignant the fact they are set in the 70's made them appealing to someone my age. Well done Tom Perrotta.
June 4, 2017
My good friend, Mark McCabe sent this book to me. Both Donna and I read and enjoyed it. It is a series of short stories about growing up in New Jersey during the same era when we were growing up. There is a lot of humor and wisdom in the stories.
September 3, 2017
Tom Perrotta's debut book is a fiercely nostalgic collection of inter-connected stories (with the same protagonist) that explores various facets of growing up in the 70's. Funny, sad and poignant and showed his promise as a writer which he went on to fulfil through his future novels.
February 23, 2018
Tom Perrotta captures uncannily familiar snapshots of teenagers coming of age in the seventies. He takes one back to the sometimes joyful and oftentimes troubling ackwardness of the time. Bad Haircut is a very enjoyable, nostalgic read.
September 14, 2019
The stories follow the life of Buddy starting when he was a small boy right up to his late teens. They are funny and moving and the author catches all the awkwardness of youth, the hopes and disappointments beautifully.
June 27, 2021
Love Tom Perotta books. This was the first one of his short story collections I read. I enjoyed it but always felt like I wanted to know what happened next! I guess that’s the whole point of short stories. I did enjoy it more as the collection progressed and I still love his writing style.
December 9, 2022
Like Dubliners set in suburban New Jersey in the 1970's. Some of the sections work better than others and it didn't always feel internally consistent but a very interesting and unique read that motivates me to read more by him.
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