Many authors have traveled and explored the out-of-doors, both in life and then in their books, proving themselves stalwart, audacious, even heroic; Andrew Farkas is not among them. He is brave enough to admit that the outdoors isn’t for him. Instead, in these essays Farkas reports on his bold explorations of a very different territory: the in-of-doors, the waiting rooms, kitchens, malls, bars, theaters, roadside motel rooms, and other places that feature temperature control, protection from rampaging predators, and a higher degree of comfort than can be found outside.
Farkas discovers that, just as the mannered and wonderfully (gloriously) artificial indoors influences us greatly, our lives are also controlled much more by fiction than by anything “real.” So come in out of the weather (it’s always terrible) and join the Great Indoorsman on his adventures, where he makes fun of pretty much everything, most of all himself.
Andrew Farkas is the author of seven books: The Great Indoorsman: Essays (University of Nebraska Press), The Big Red Herring (KERNPUNKT Press), Sunsphere: Stories (BlazeVOX Books), Self-Titled Debut: Stories (Subito Press), Are You Now or Have You Ever Been: Stories (Alternating Current Press), Movies Are Fine for a Bright Boy Like You: Stories (Whiskey Tit), and The Ancient Mysteries of Las Vegas: a Play (KERNPUNKT Press). He is also an Associate Professor of Creative Writing at Washburn University and an editor for Always Crashing.
“Absurdist and absurdly amusing, Andrew Farkas takes readers on a sublime tour through dive bars and coffeehouses, dilapidated movie theaters and dying malls. A doctor of knowledge, erudite but humble, Farkas creates an enchanting yet down-to-earth collection perfect for indoors, outdoors, or anywhere in between.”—Kathleen Rooney, author of Cher Ami and Major Whittlesey
Farkas's reverence for the indoors (the in of doors) is matched only by his love of storytelling. This is a book of yarns (stretch, spooled, and tangled), magnetic and kaleidoscopic in their perceptions. One is compelled forward not only by that mercurial phenomenon of place and memory but by the pull of vivid characters—from trusted confidants to bar room strangers to imagined variations of the author himself, and Farkas, as guide, protagonist, and irreverent narrator makes for great company.
Super fun premise: celebrating all things indoors. I love the mild mocking of many types of outdoor texts, including Thoreau's opening to Walden. You never know where these essays will take you, but it's funny and thought-provoking.