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Lake Wobegon #1
Lake Wobegon Days
A young narrator chronicles his coming-of-age in Minnesota's Lake Wobegon, a fictitious small town where all the women are strong, all the men are good-looking, and all the children are above average
337 pages, Hardcover
First published January 1, 1985
329 people are currently reading
4429 people want to read
About the author
Garrison Keillor
279 books840 followersGary Edward "Garrison" Keillor is an American author, singer, humorist, voice actor, and radio personality. He created the Minnesota Public Radio (MPR) show A Prairie Home Companion (called Garrison Keillor's Radio Show in some international syndication), which he hosted from 1974 to 2016. Keillor created the fictional Minnesota town Lake Wobegon, the setting of many of his books, including Lake Wobegon Days and Leaving Home: A Collection of Lake Wobegon Stories. Other creations include Guy Noir, a detective voiced by Keillor who appeared in A Prairie Home Companion comic skits. Keillor is also the creator of the five-minute daily radio/podcast program The Writer's Almanac, which pairs poems of his choice with a script about important literary, historical, and scientific events that coincided with that date in history.
In November 2017, Minnesota Public Radio cut all business ties with Keillor after an allegation of inappropriate behavior with a freelance writer for A Prairie Home Companion. On April 13, 2018, MPR and Keillor announced a settlement that allows archives of A Prairie Home Companion and The Writer's Almanac to be publicly available again, and soon thereafter, Keillor began publishing new episodes of The Writer's Almanac on his website. He also continues to tour a stage version of A Prairie Home Companion, although these shows are not broadcast by MPR or American Public Media.
In November 2017, Minnesota Public Radio cut all business ties with Keillor after an allegation of inappropriate behavior with a freelance writer for A Prairie Home Companion. On April 13, 2018, MPR and Keillor announced a settlement that allows archives of A Prairie Home Companion and The Writer's Almanac to be publicly available again, and soon thereafter, Keillor began publishing new episodes of The Writer's Almanac on his website. He also continues to tour a stage version of A Prairie Home Companion, although these shows are not broadcast by MPR or American Public Media.
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Displaying 1 - 30 of 684 reviews
October 9, 2021
Lake Wobegon. I have tried to read you over the years and every time I picked you up I was bored out of my mind. This time I tried audio. That helped. I can see why people love to listen to you; I can see why people don’t like to listen to you.
So, Lake Wobegon was founded by Unitarians, and it seemed to do okay by them.
My town has lakes too, but they are not in town. We have rivers too, and a creek running through town. Tahlequah is its name, given to it by the Native Americans, so I would say that it was founded by them, and it was they who named it, Tahlequah. As legend goes, the Indians came on the Trail of Tears, that part is true, so it is not a legend. Five tribes decided to stop here, and the plan was to give the town a name, or to decide if they would stay. I don’t recall which. Five chiefs, of the various nations, were to show up the next day to take a vote. Only two came, and so they said, “Two is enough” and voted. In Cherokee or some other tribal language, "two is enough" means "Tahlequah." Or you can choose to believe that it was named loosely after a town back east, like maybe in South Carolina.
So, our town was founded, not by Unitarians, but by pagan Indians. They were pagan because the Christians said they were. And they convinced some Indians into becoming Christians; many kept their own beliefs and kept them a secret, but some now preach hell and damnation, go figure. After what the Christians put them through, well, they had to comply or else. So then the Christian churches came, well, actually they kind of came with the Indians, and with that sin and damnation came, and whatever else. Heaven belonged to them only. They had earned it, and it didn’t matter if they killed innocent people or did other cruel and unusual things, nor did it matter if they broke all of the ten commandments, because they were true believers and only had to say, Oops.
Then many, many years later the Unitarians showed up. The Christians said that they were evil and that they ate babies. they actually said these things. Later on they said witches went there. Yes, I heard this too. Well, they did have some pagans, but then isn’t anyone who isn’t a Christian a pagan? They had atheists too, and then some very spiritual people of what beliefs I do not know, But these people too are pagans.
Sparrow Hawk Mountain, the mountain where the little boy in Where the Red Fern Grows lived, is where another church took root. They were a New Age group. Believed in Sophia. The Unitarians lost their fame for eating babies, and it was placed on the Sophias.Then the Sophias all fell into arguments, as all churches do, and disbanded. So far I have not heard if the Unitarians now eat children again. The christians may have given up on that one, but I don't count on it. But at the same time as the Sophias were arguing, so were the Methodists and the Unitarians, each with members in their own churches. It was in the air. People left these churches in droves. Satan had run amok. Then the Methodists and the Unitarians all made up, but the Sophias, well, they may still be at it still, if they are there at all. They had a sweet village complete with a fire department, but then people sold their homes and on and on.
Lake Wobegon goes like this, like what I just wrote, but he writes much better than I do, but I was not really interested in his town. I was interested in Tahlequah.
In his book you get some childhood stories that are kind of neat. Like how one of the kids buried his cat in a pet cemetery complete with a sermon and all that entailed. As a kid I had my own pet cemetery. I lost a lot of dogs to the highway that went through town because we had no fence. Poor people don't know how to take care of animals, or at least we didn't. I scraped one of my dogs off Spring Street in Paso Robles, CA while crying over him. Took him two blocks to our house and buried him. I buried a dead gold fish and dug it up a year later to see what he looked like. The jar lid was rusty, so I hit the jar on a stone fence between our house and the field and cut my hand. I could see the scar for years. I am surprised that I didn’t get some horrible disease from doing this. What did it look like inside the jar? The napkin was an orange color. Like the Shroud of Turin, the body had disappeared, but not before leaving its mark. That’s all.
So, Lake Wobegon was founded by Unitarians, and it seemed to do okay by them.
My town has lakes too, but they are not in town. We have rivers too, and a creek running through town. Tahlequah is its name, given to it by the Native Americans, so I would say that it was founded by them, and it was they who named it, Tahlequah. As legend goes, the Indians came on the Trail of Tears, that part is true, so it is not a legend. Five tribes decided to stop here, and the plan was to give the town a name, or to decide if they would stay. I don’t recall which. Five chiefs, of the various nations, were to show up the next day to take a vote. Only two came, and so they said, “Two is enough” and voted. In Cherokee or some other tribal language, "two is enough" means "Tahlequah." Or you can choose to believe that it was named loosely after a town back east, like maybe in South Carolina.
So, our town was founded, not by Unitarians, but by pagan Indians. They were pagan because the Christians said they were. And they convinced some Indians into becoming Christians; many kept their own beliefs and kept them a secret, but some now preach hell and damnation, go figure. After what the Christians put them through, well, they had to comply or else. So then the Christian churches came, well, actually they kind of came with the Indians, and with that sin and damnation came, and whatever else. Heaven belonged to them only. They had earned it, and it didn’t matter if they killed innocent people or did other cruel and unusual things, nor did it matter if they broke all of the ten commandments, because they were true believers and only had to say, Oops.
Then many, many years later the Unitarians showed up. The Christians said that they were evil and that they ate babies. they actually said these things. Later on they said witches went there. Yes, I heard this too. Well, they did have some pagans, but then isn’t anyone who isn’t a Christian a pagan? They had atheists too, and then some very spiritual people of what beliefs I do not know, But these people too are pagans.
Sparrow Hawk Mountain, the mountain where the little boy in Where the Red Fern Grows lived, is where another church took root. They were a New Age group. Believed in Sophia. The Unitarians lost their fame for eating babies, and it was placed on the Sophias.Then the Sophias all fell into arguments, as all churches do, and disbanded. So far I have not heard if the Unitarians now eat children again. The christians may have given up on that one, but I don't count on it. But at the same time as the Sophias were arguing, so were the Methodists and the Unitarians, each with members in their own churches. It was in the air. People left these churches in droves. Satan had run amok. Then the Methodists and the Unitarians all made up, but the Sophias, well, they may still be at it still, if they are there at all. They had a sweet village complete with a fire department, but then people sold their homes and on and on.
Lake Wobegon goes like this, like what I just wrote, but he writes much better than I do, but I was not really interested in his town. I was interested in Tahlequah.
In his book you get some childhood stories that are kind of neat. Like how one of the kids buried his cat in a pet cemetery complete with a sermon and all that entailed. As a kid I had my own pet cemetery. I lost a lot of dogs to the highway that went through town because we had no fence. Poor people don't know how to take care of animals, or at least we didn't. I scraped one of my dogs off Spring Street in Paso Robles, CA while crying over him. Took him two blocks to our house and buried him. I buried a dead gold fish and dug it up a year later to see what he looked like. The jar lid was rusty, so I hit the jar on a stone fence between our house and the field and cut my hand. I could see the scar for years. I am surprised that I didn’t get some horrible disease from doing this. What did it look like inside the jar? The napkin was an orange color. Like the Shroud of Turin, the body had disappeared, but not before leaving its mark. That’s all.
December 22, 2016
This is a light-hearted nostalgic look by Garrison Keillor looking backwards to more halcyon days of America that was originally broadcast on NPR as a radio series. It is very funny and touching and a light read for when you are tired of the terrifying headlines. It is also worthwhile to seek out the podcasts out there where he recounts these stories and more as he was a wonderful voice and a subtle sense of humour.
May 14, 2013
Ah, I miss the old days, those innocent Goodreads days of pretzels and beer, Wittgenstein and Gertrude Stein, and of course, Celebrity Death Matches. So I'm reviving one of my personal favourites. I call it...
CELEBRITY DEATH MATCH No 83.
BOY GEORGE : Willkommen, bienvenue, welcome Meine Damen und Herren, Mesdames et Messieurs, Ladies and Gentlemen! Guten abend, bon soir, good evening! Wie geht's? Comment ca va? Do you feel good? Ich bin euer confrencier, je suis votre compere, I am your host! Leave your troubles outside! So -life is disappointing? Forget it! In here life is beautiful - the girls are beautiful - even the orchestra is beautiful! Outside it is winter, but here it is so hot every night we have the
battle to keep the girls from taking off all their clothing. So don't go away. Who knows? Tonight we may lose the battle! Ja!
THE CHICAGO SYMPHONY ORCHESTRA : Taa-daaah!
BOY GEORGE : So, you have come to see the fighting, ja? Okay, we get on with it. Yes, you do not have to throw fruit or panties at me, I know what you want. Tonight we have one of our much loved Celebrity Death matches - 0 yes, haha, you think maybe somebody famous will die tonight? Huh? You like that? Okay, ja, so do we! Ha ha! So, tonight's bout is …
Drum roll…
Between in the blue corner much loved genial American humourist Garrison Keillor
(the 6 foot 9 Keillor stands up and sways like an oak. He wears a suit and large red boxing gloves.)
And in the red corner, not one, not two, not three – okay, I'll tell you – five separate opponents all of whom believe for one reason or another that he should die a painful death! We have Michael Chabon, Jonathan Franzen, Brett Easton Ellis, Don (the Don) De Lillo and, making a surprise comeback, Carson McCullers!!
(Mild applause)
Chicago Symphony plays a quick burst of the theme tune from Circus Boy starring Mickey Dolenz
The five authors strut about the ring, all dressed in evil looking leather outfits. DeLillo leans over the ropes and glares at someone he recognises. Easton rushes over and says "Leave it, Don, it's only one of those crappy goodreads idiots, We'll get them later."
BOY GEORGE : Okay, Meine Damen und Herren, Mesdames et Messieurs, seconds away, Round One!
Bell : Ting!
GK : Well, it has been a quiet week in Lake Wobegon, my home town, the little town that time kind of forgot to remember to forget. Turned cold around Wednesday, I'd say, kind of… colder 'n' it was in the two or three days it was before that. Monday, I should say, Monday wasn't terribly cold...
The red corner are working as a tag team one at a time against the towering midwesterner. First up, here comes Carson McCullers. She steps up to GK looking, may I say, very fetching in a kind of cut down Batgirl getup, I could bet that her friends of both genders are liking this a lot.
(Prematch dialogue :
Graham Greene : Miss Carson, I really don't know - you can see practically all the way to China!
Carson : Why Mr Greene. For one night only no mannish tweeds. I'm gonna strut my stuff!)
But alas, the mountainous Keillor, orating blindly, obliviously, flails his arm in a gesture to emphasise how felchingly cold it is in Lake Wobegon and he catches McCullers a glancing blow on the side of the head. It's Ali versus Liston 1965 all over again. The Southern gothic pinup girl hits the deck and is counted out. A disappointement for the feminists in the audience. But she was never in the best of health and I don't really think it was a wise idea to include her in the tag team.
GK : ... not that record breaking cold that er gets you in uh National geographic and all of that and the tv comes out to interview you and see how you're taking it, just a kind of regular Minnesota cold, kind of a fact of life in the month of January, nothing to complain about, like the fact that it's flat out here, really kind of uh flat. Yeah. Don't complain about that. But gee I dunno maybe some people do they come into the house and they say Well it's kind of too flat out there, I never seen it so flat out there. As it is today. Too flat. Somebody else 'll say Yeah but I hear it's suppose to incline a bit on Wednesday.
Next up, Jonathan Franzen – he squares up to GK who never stops talking and stares gloomily towards the audience, pretending not to notice any of his opponents, or actually not noticing them. Franzen winds up and socks Keillor as hard as he can in the solar plexus. Anything to shut this guy up.
GK : Ooof! So by Wednesday there was a little more snow on the ground which kind of absorbs sound and since Wobegonians are kind of quiet and don't really roar so much it makes for well a sort of dull uh dreary kind of existence even though below zero temperatures are if I remember physics that I was once taught makes sound travel better uh faster and yet it's still kind of real quiet here because
Franzen walks back disconsolately to the red corner. "This is not cool, you know," he says. "In fact this is even less cool than being on Oprah. I'm out of here." And he leaves in his Franzmobile.
GK : there aren't so many people out and those who are aren't in the mood to make much of it. Sound that is. And also should they have been in the mood still they would have had trouble because they're kind of all bundled up, swaddled if you will, and pretty much unable to emit any kind of cry. Light synthetic fabric such as Goretex has not yet found its way to Minnesota. People up there still believe in layers, a great many layers.
Don "The Don" DeLillo steps into the ring. He hurls a copy of Underworld at GK's enormous droning head but like that scene in Awakenings Keillor expertly catches the heavy volume with one huge mitt. Without breaking from his tedious Lake Wobegon yarn, he reaches down and cuffs DeLillo like a great grizzly bear and DeLillo's head flies off somewhere into the far corner of the room. The doctor climbs into the ring and checks his pulse. Yes, he's dead.
Michael Chabon is taken ill at the sight of DeLillo's head hurtling past him, so this means that Brett Easton Ellis is the last author of any literary merit still standing now. As he enters the ring he throws off his leather cape to reveal a flame thrower strapped on his back. He unhooks the hose and fires it up. Great gouts of flame shoot out.
GK : Of course something which can keep even a cold person alive and even warm em up a little bit, fend off death if you will, is a whole basketful of ancient creaking sentimental parlour ballads such as Love's Old sweet song.
(sings in beautiful clear baritone)
Once in the dear dead days beyond recall,
When on the world the mists began to fall,
Out of the dreams that rose in happy throng
Low to our hearts Love sang an old sweet song;
And in the dusk where fell the firelight gleam,
Softly it wove itself into our dream.
By now GK's right leg is completely on fire, Ellis is cackling madly and fighting off the ringside officials who are clambering into the ring.
Referee : Ellis, you're disqual---urgh…
I can't tell you what Ellis does to the referee.
BOY GEORGE : Well well well meine Damen und Herren, Mesdames et Messieurs, it is my humble duty to declare that Garrison Keillor's unique ability to keep on talking in the face of considerable naughtiness means that tonight, he is our champion!
GK : Just a song a twilight, when the lights are low,
And the flick'ring shadows softly come and go,
Tho' the heart be weary, sad the day and long,
Still to us at twilight comes Love's old song,
comes Love's old sweet song.
CELEBRITY DEATH MATCH No 83.
BOY GEORGE : Willkommen, bienvenue, welcome Meine Damen und Herren, Mesdames et Messieurs, Ladies and Gentlemen! Guten abend, bon soir, good evening! Wie geht's? Comment ca va? Do you feel good? Ich bin euer confrencier, je suis votre compere, I am your host! Leave your troubles outside! So -life is disappointing? Forget it! In here life is beautiful - the girls are beautiful - even the orchestra is beautiful! Outside it is winter, but here it is so hot every night we have the
battle to keep the girls from taking off all their clothing. So don't go away. Who knows? Tonight we may lose the battle! Ja!
THE CHICAGO SYMPHONY ORCHESTRA : Taa-daaah!
BOY GEORGE : So, you have come to see the fighting, ja? Okay, we get on with it. Yes, you do not have to throw fruit or panties at me, I know what you want. Tonight we have one of our much loved Celebrity Death matches - 0 yes, haha, you think maybe somebody famous will die tonight? Huh? You like that? Okay, ja, so do we! Ha ha! So, tonight's bout is …
Drum roll…
Between in the blue corner much loved genial American humourist Garrison Keillor
(the 6 foot 9 Keillor stands up and sways like an oak. He wears a suit and large red boxing gloves.)
And in the red corner, not one, not two, not three – okay, I'll tell you – five separate opponents all of whom believe for one reason or another that he should die a painful death! We have Michael Chabon, Jonathan Franzen, Brett Easton Ellis, Don (the Don) De Lillo and, making a surprise comeback, Carson McCullers!!
(Mild applause)
Chicago Symphony plays a quick burst of the theme tune from Circus Boy starring Mickey Dolenz
The five authors strut about the ring, all dressed in evil looking leather outfits. DeLillo leans over the ropes and glares at someone he recognises. Easton rushes over and says "Leave it, Don, it's only one of those crappy goodreads idiots, We'll get them later."
BOY GEORGE : Okay, Meine Damen und Herren, Mesdames et Messieurs, seconds away, Round One!
Bell : Ting!
GK : Well, it has been a quiet week in Lake Wobegon, my home town, the little town that time kind of forgot to remember to forget. Turned cold around Wednesday, I'd say, kind of… colder 'n' it was in the two or three days it was before that. Monday, I should say, Monday wasn't terribly cold...
The red corner are working as a tag team one at a time against the towering midwesterner. First up, here comes Carson McCullers. She steps up to GK looking, may I say, very fetching in a kind of cut down Batgirl getup, I could bet that her friends of both genders are liking this a lot.
(Prematch dialogue :
Graham Greene : Miss Carson, I really don't know - you can see practically all the way to China!
Carson : Why Mr Greene. For one night only no mannish tweeds. I'm gonna strut my stuff!)
But alas, the mountainous Keillor, orating blindly, obliviously, flails his arm in a gesture to emphasise how felchingly cold it is in Lake Wobegon and he catches McCullers a glancing blow on the side of the head. It's Ali versus Liston 1965 all over again. The Southern gothic pinup girl hits the deck and is counted out. A disappointement for the feminists in the audience. But she was never in the best of health and I don't really think it was a wise idea to include her in the tag team.
GK : ... not that record breaking cold that er gets you in uh National geographic and all of that and the tv comes out to interview you and see how you're taking it, just a kind of regular Minnesota cold, kind of a fact of life in the month of January, nothing to complain about, like the fact that it's flat out here, really kind of uh flat. Yeah. Don't complain about that. But gee I dunno maybe some people do they come into the house and they say Well it's kind of too flat out there, I never seen it so flat out there. As it is today. Too flat. Somebody else 'll say Yeah but I hear it's suppose to incline a bit on Wednesday.
Next up, Jonathan Franzen – he squares up to GK who never stops talking and stares gloomily towards the audience, pretending not to notice any of his opponents, or actually not noticing them. Franzen winds up and socks Keillor as hard as he can in the solar plexus. Anything to shut this guy up.
GK : Ooof! So by Wednesday there was a little more snow on the ground which kind of absorbs sound and since Wobegonians are kind of quiet and don't really roar so much it makes for well a sort of dull uh dreary kind of existence even though below zero temperatures are if I remember physics that I was once taught makes sound travel better uh faster and yet it's still kind of real quiet here because
Franzen walks back disconsolately to the red corner. "This is not cool, you know," he says. "In fact this is even less cool than being on Oprah. I'm out of here." And he leaves in his Franzmobile.
GK : there aren't so many people out and those who are aren't in the mood to make much of it. Sound that is. And also should they have been in the mood still they would have had trouble because they're kind of all bundled up, swaddled if you will, and pretty much unable to emit any kind of cry. Light synthetic fabric such as Goretex has not yet found its way to Minnesota. People up there still believe in layers, a great many layers.
Don "The Don" DeLillo steps into the ring. He hurls a copy of Underworld at GK's enormous droning head but like that scene in Awakenings Keillor expertly catches the heavy volume with one huge mitt. Without breaking from his tedious Lake Wobegon yarn, he reaches down and cuffs DeLillo like a great grizzly bear and DeLillo's head flies off somewhere into the far corner of the room. The doctor climbs into the ring and checks his pulse. Yes, he's dead.
Michael Chabon is taken ill at the sight of DeLillo's head hurtling past him, so this means that Brett Easton Ellis is the last author of any literary merit still standing now. As he enters the ring he throws off his leather cape to reveal a flame thrower strapped on his back. He unhooks the hose and fires it up. Great gouts of flame shoot out.
GK : Of course something which can keep even a cold person alive and even warm em up a little bit, fend off death if you will, is a whole basketful of ancient creaking sentimental parlour ballads such as Love's Old sweet song.
(sings in beautiful clear baritone)
Once in the dear dead days beyond recall,
When on the world the mists began to fall,
Out of the dreams that rose in happy throng
Low to our hearts Love sang an old sweet song;
And in the dusk where fell the firelight gleam,
Softly it wove itself into our dream.
By now GK's right leg is completely on fire, Ellis is cackling madly and fighting off the ringside officials who are clambering into the ring.
Referee : Ellis, you're disqual---urgh…
I can't tell you what Ellis does to the referee.
BOY GEORGE : Well well well meine Damen und Herren, Mesdames et Messieurs, it is my humble duty to declare that Garrison Keillor's unique ability to keep on talking in the face of considerable naughtiness means that tonight, he is our champion!
GK : Just a song a twilight, when the lights are low,
And the flick'ring shadows softly come and go,
Tho' the heart be weary, sad the day and long,
Still to us at twilight comes Love's old song,
comes Love's old sweet song.
January 31, 2007
I'm amazed that Garrison Keillor is seen as the written equivalent of Norman Rockwell; His stories are only nostalgic if you aren't paying attention. The Lake Wobegone of his childhood is a dark, oppressive place, where the laughs are generally at someone's expense and everlasting embarrassment. For those of us who identify, the grim humour and beautifully rendered stories evoke not nostalgia, but a satisfaction that those years are long past.
October 10, 2017
Although I liked this book ok, I really wanted to like it more. The stories are cute, homespun tales of life in a small town in Minnesota during the 60's? 70's? I'm not actually sure and that's one of the problems I had with this book. I'm pretty sure the intention was to show the way life doesn't change much in small towns, but that's not actually true. The nostalgic eye may see it that way, but when you take off the rose colored glasses you can see changes. Whether we like it or not. A small town can only sustain so many people before it is forced to adapt.
Anyway, another problem I kept coming across other than the whip-lashing time line, was the changes of point of view from first person to third person by the narrator.
I suppose this may be one of those books that are more enjoyable in audio form. Garrison Keillor could probably save it for me with his voice over skills. 🤷♀️
Anyway, another problem I kept coming across other than the whip-lashing time line, was the changes of point of view from first person to third person by the narrator.
I suppose this may be one of those books that are more enjoyable in audio form. Garrison Keillor could probably save it for me with his voice over skills. 🤷♀️
March 20, 2024
The best way to enjoy Lake Wobegon is always to listen to Garrison Keillor himself read about his fictional hometown. This audiobook reminds me of hours listening to Keillor on Prairie Home Companion and listening to cassette recordings — yes, actual cassettes! — of his shows.
I had forgotten so much! A farmer who sells live Christmas trees, warning his customers that Christmas trees are terrible fire hazards. A disappointed former Lake Wobegon adult who returns with his own 96 Theses against the small town. A young Keillor hitting his older sister with a ripe tomato when she bends over while gardening. Ralph’s Grocery. Keillor’s mother pondering whether a funeral was “too much” for a young Garrison; deeming himself to have been subject to too little, too much sounded just perfect to Keillor. Most of these vignettes I heard on Prairie Home Companion, but they’re evergreen tales I could listen to again and again. Love it every time.
I had forgotten so much! A farmer who sells live Christmas trees, warning his customers that Christmas trees are terrible fire hazards. A disappointed former Lake Wobegon adult who returns with his own 96 Theses against the small town. A young Keillor hitting his older sister with a ripe tomato when she bends over while gardening. Ralph’s Grocery. Keillor’s mother pondering whether a funeral was “too much” for a young Garrison; deeming himself to have been subject to too little, too much sounded just perfect to Keillor. Most of these vignettes I heard on Prairie Home Companion, but they’re evergreen tales I could listen to again and again. Love it every time.
August 18, 2024
The sidebars are not optional.
January 13, 2016
This story is like something out of a Norman Rockwell painting. Even though there were some tidbits of interesting history here it was a little long and tedious. I much prefer these stories told in smaller portions over his live radio broadcast, 'A Prairie Home Companion'.
May 22, 2020
For a light, easy going type read, this took a while to get through, and wasn't the most pleasurable book ever. I'd heard of Lake Wobegon Days and of the author as well, and saw it on a bookshelf and thought I'd try it, thinking it might be a nice, breezy bit of small-town nostalgia type thing...hmm, not quite what it was, unfortunately...
One way I could explain the style/vibe of the book, would be to suggest that you picture Grandpa Abe Simpson, from the popular show The Simpsons, regaling the family with some long and pointless ramble, while he pays them a visit at their home-
"Of course in my day, we couldn't afford to eat fresh fruit and I didn't see an orange until I was about fifteen or sixteen- the nearest we got to a juicy orange was an onion- we called 'em cry apples, on account of the tears that you'd get springing from yer peepers, every time you took a bite out of one! Yes, I ate many a cry apple before I got to taste the real thing- I think Sidney McKillack sold me my first one on the corner of Firth Avenue, from his little back street stall, charged me 34, or maybe it was 35 cents, and I still remember the sweet taste of it now- sure beat the pants off an onion, I'll tell ya that much for nothin'...ahh, Sid McKillack...of course, his father claimed to have invented the pencil sharpener, back in the early 1890's, but he later got taken to court and admitted it was all a load of big talk, and he only said he invented it on account of a bar bet that went too far with Tommy Herman...ah, now that Tommy was quite the character back in his youth..."-
It's a bit like that, but quite often much more boring. Garrison Keillor can write fine, there's nothing wrong with the quality of any of it, but its just so mind-alteringly tedious a lot of the time, that sometimes you find yourself exclaiming out loud "What the hell are you prattling on about now, lad!" as you stare at the wall and watch a spider slowly do laps of your room, preparing yourself to attempt to carry on reading, but now having to decide whether to keep watching the wanderings of the arachnid, or return to the random ramblings of the author. There were a couple of smiles in the initial pages, and the chapters 'Home', 'Protestant' and 'School' were all okay, but they just ended up annoying me more in a way, as I thought "Why can't you do this all the time, with the whole bloody book!". In contrast, other chapters such as 'New Albion' and 'Forebears' were actually breathtakingly dull, going into all this unnecessary, fictitious, historic depth, and I struggled to actually get through those chapters and the problem was I kept reading the book, hoping in earnest for a few more okay parts, but they never came (although a very long grumbly footnote bit in the 'News' chapter, was quite good to be fair)...
At least five times during reading this book, I considered giving up on it and admitting defeat, but kept hoping foolishly that it would perk up again, and I also began to see it as a challenge, like running a marathon or something, to see if I could actually get to the end...I succeeded, but at what cost to my mind, I don't know. In conclusion, this book has a few redeeming parts to it here and there, but I much preferred Bill Bryson's- The Life and Times of the Thunderbolt Kid, which does the nostalgic hometown thing with a lot more entertainment, and is easy reading fun, rather than some kind of patience-testing, shudderingly boring, ramble-rampage, like this apparent comic classic...hmm!
December 9, 2017
Just amazing. The consummate storyteller. My full review will be on my booktube channel at http://Youtube.com/peterlikesbooks
May 20, 2023
With his masterful storytelling and keen observations, Keillor invites us into the fictional town of Lake Wobegon, where life may seem simple on the surface but is rich with complex characters and deep-rooted emotions. The stories are infused with a gentle humour that evokes genuine laughter, while at the same time touching on universal themes that resonate with readers. Whether he's describing the humorous escapades of the local inhabitants or exploring the intricacies of family relationships, Keillor's writing captures the essence of human nature with wit and warmth.
The characters are crafted with great care and attention to detail. Each individual has their own quirks and flaws, yet they are portrayed with compassion and understanding. The characters feel authentic and relatable, and as readers, we become deeply invested in their lives, eagerly following their triumphs and tribulations. The reader is transported back to a simpler time, where people found joy in small pleasures and community was at the heart of everything. Through his storytelling, he captures the essence of a bygone era, where life moved at a slower pace and neighbours looked out for one another. Whether recounting tales of childhood innocence or exploring the bittersweetness of growing old, the writing exudes a wistful longing for a time and place that perhaps never truly existed but feels real in our hearts.
In addition to its nostalgic appeal, the book also serves as a social commentary on the changing landscape of small-town America. Keillor subtly touches on the encroachment of modernity and the impact it has on the fabric of a close-knit community. As the outside world seeps into Lake Wobegon, the residents grapple with shifting values, generational conflicts, and the loss of cherished traditions. Through these themes, Keillor explores the universal struggle between preserving the past and embracing the inevitable changes of the future.
Lake Wobegon Days not only captivates readers with its engaging storytelling and nostalgic charm but also delves into the rich history of the place, the rustic nature of its inhabitants, and the profound influence of religion on the community.
The fictional town in central Minnesota, is depicted as a place steeped in history. Garrison Keillor beautifully weaves together stories that span generations, painting a vivid picture of a town with a proud and enduring past. Through anecdotes and reminiscences, readers gain insight into the origins of Lake Wobegon, its settlers, and the unique customs and traditions that have been passed down through the years. This historical backdrop adds depth and authenticity to the narrative, allowing readers to feel a genuine connection to the place and its people.
The inhabitants of Lake Wobegon embody a rustic charm that is both endearing and relatable. Keillor portrays them as hardworking individuals who find solace and contentment in the simplicity of their lives. Whether it's the farmers toiling in the fields, the store owners bustling about their businesses, or the children exploring the wonders of their small town, the characters exude a genuine love for their community and an unwavering sense of belonging. The author's attention to detail and his keen observations capture the essence of rural life, highlighting the beauty found in the mundane and ordinary.
Help taken by chatopenai.com for writing this review is obvious!
Men wear their belts low here, there being so many outstanding bellies, some big enough to have names of their own and be formally introduced. Those men don’t suck them in or hide them in loose shirts; they let them hang free, they pat them , they stroke them as they stand around and talk. How could a man be so vain as to ignore this old friend who’s been with them at the great moments of his life?As the narration proceeds the town of Lake Wobegon comes alive on the pages, with its picturesque landscape, quaint buildings, and the familiar rhythms of daily life. Through his vivid descriptions, the author invites readers to stroll down the streets, visit the local diner, and join the townsfolk in their everyday routines.
The characters are crafted with great care and attention to detail. Each individual has their own quirks and flaws, yet they are portrayed with compassion and understanding. The characters feel authentic and relatable, and as readers, we become deeply invested in their lives, eagerly following their triumphs and tribulations. The reader is transported back to a simpler time, where people found joy in small pleasures and community was at the heart of everything. Through his storytelling, he captures the essence of a bygone era, where life moved at a slower pace and neighbours looked out for one another. Whether recounting tales of childhood innocence or exploring the bittersweetness of growing old, the writing exudes a wistful longing for a time and place that perhaps never truly existed but feels real in our hearts.
In addition to its nostalgic appeal, the book also serves as a social commentary on the changing landscape of small-town America. Keillor subtly touches on the encroachment of modernity and the impact it has on the fabric of a close-knit community. As the outside world seeps into Lake Wobegon, the residents grapple with shifting values, generational conflicts, and the loss of cherished traditions. Through these themes, Keillor explores the universal struggle between preserving the past and embracing the inevitable changes of the future.
Lake Wobegon Days not only captivates readers with its engaging storytelling and nostalgic charm but also delves into the rich history of the place, the rustic nature of its inhabitants, and the profound influence of religion on the community.
The fictional town in central Minnesota, is depicted as a place steeped in history. Garrison Keillor beautifully weaves together stories that span generations, painting a vivid picture of a town with a proud and enduring past. Through anecdotes and reminiscences, readers gain insight into the origins of Lake Wobegon, its settlers, and the unique customs and traditions that have been passed down through the years. This historical backdrop adds depth and authenticity to the narrative, allowing readers to feel a genuine connection to the place and its people.
The inhabitants of Lake Wobegon embody a rustic charm that is both endearing and relatable. Keillor portrays them as hardworking individuals who find solace and contentment in the simplicity of their lives. Whether it's the farmers toiling in the fields, the store owners bustling about their businesses, or the children exploring the wonders of their small town, the characters exude a genuine love for their community and an unwavering sense of belonging. The author's attention to detail and his keen observations capture the essence of rural life, highlighting the beauty found in the mundane and ordinary.
In winter, we sit in the houseReligion plays a significant role in the fabric of Lake Wobegon's community. The town is predominantly Lutheran, and the presence of faith is palpable throughout the book. Keillor explores the influence of religion on the daily lives of the residents, from the steadfast faith of Pastor Ingqvist to the church picnics and revivals that bring the community together. Through humor and introspection, the author presents a nuanced portrayal of the role of religion in shaping the town's values, morals, and interpersonal relationships. While the religious aspects are handled with respect, Keillor also offers a lighthearted perspective on the quirks and foibles that come with living in a tightly-knit faith-based community.
Around a blazing fire.
In summer, we sit on the porch
Like birds on a telephone wire
You have fed me wretched food, vegetable boiled to extinction, fistfuls of white sugar, slabs of fats, mucousy casseroles made with globs of cream of mushroom, until it’s amazing my heart still beats. Food was not fuel but ballast; we ate and then sank like rocks. Every Sunday, everyone got stoned on dinner except the women who cooked it and thereby lost their appetites – the rest of us did our duty and ate ourselves into a gaseous stupor and sat around in a trance and mumbled like a bunch of beefheads.The influence of religion is intertwined with the themes of tradition and change in Lake Wobegon. As the world outside encroaches on the town, the younger generation begins to question and challenge long-held beliefs and customs. This tension between the old and the new adds a layer of complexity to the narrative, reflecting the broader societal shifts occurring during the time the book was written. Keillor explores the delicate balance between embracing progress and preserving cherished traditions, highlighting the challenges faced by individuals and the community as a whole.
Help taken by chatopenai.com for writing this review is obvious!
February 24, 2014
I really wanted to love this book. Me and Garrison Keillor have spent a great deal of time together on the road, as I would listen to him ramble on about his times spent on the shores of Lake Wobegon during the fantastic radio show that is Prarie Home Companion.
Of course, I had a feeling that a book dedicated to these long winded tales of days never-existing would find themselves to be too long for their own good, but I had really hoped things would be different.
I spent several nights trying to get into this book and be excited for where it was going, while struggling to keep my eyes open after only a few pages.
Now, I will admit, the book has its highlights. Just like the stories told on the radio show, there's little pieces that will make you smile, giggle, and/or think. But they are just too few and far between to make the idea of reading this novel from cover to cover enticing.
If you absolutely love Keillor's tales of Lake Wobegon, then perhaps this book is for you (judging by the multitude of positive reviews in existence for the novel). If you find them only mildly amusing, you may want to look elsewhere for your reading pleasure.
Of course, I had a feeling that a book dedicated to these long winded tales of days never-existing would find themselves to be too long for their own good, but I had really hoped things would be different.
I spent several nights trying to get into this book and be excited for where it was going, while struggling to keep my eyes open after only a few pages.
Now, I will admit, the book has its highlights. Just like the stories told on the radio show, there's little pieces that will make you smile, giggle, and/or think. But they are just too few and far between to make the idea of reading this novel from cover to cover enticing.
If you absolutely love Keillor's tales of Lake Wobegon, then perhaps this book is for you (judging by the multitude of positive reviews in existence for the novel). If you find them only mildly amusing, you may want to look elsewhere for your reading pleasure.
Read
June 3, 2011Picture me sitting on a train reading this book, getting to the passage where the boys are in the classroom at lunchtime and the headteacher farts nearby and acts as if nothing happened. Gary makes his friend fall to pieces with laughter because the teacher demands to know what is so funny, and Gary says something like "it smells like a badger fart". The effect on his friend - I think he says something like: ”I’ve never had such an impressive(explosive? Can’t remember the line properly) effect on anyone.” His friend goes all red in the face and ‘yarks up’ some pudding he is eating, out of his nose. In defending himself to his mum later, Gary says it wasn’t fair, the headteacher ‘stood there as if it was a bouquet of daisies’. I actually slid off my train seat practically under the table, with tears streaming, unable to breathe for laughing, as I was reading it. I had to close the book and stop looking at the phrase ‘yarked up some more pudding’ because every time I read it it set me off again. I’m doing it now.
July 22, 2008
As a child of the 60s, I have gotten used to books having to be dark and meaningful. Happy endings are rare and suspect. So it is with pleasure that I discovered Garrison Keillor's books. He makes me smile, sometimes nostalgically, but sometimes just out of clear enjoyment of someone saying what I've always felt but never knew how to put into words. I encourage readers to give this book a chance. How anyone can read about Lake Wobegon's citizenry and not love this book is beyond me. A church named "Our Lady of Perpetual Responsibility"...you KNOW that's hysterically funny and right on the mark.
October 27, 2018
A friend picked it up and asked me to buy it saying it's good and humorous. I liked the writing. A lot of colloquial stuff one would miss if not native or is not alert enough while reading. I may have missed myself a lot.
It's a journey back to the time when Norwegians came to Wobegon and built it slowly. Though it's mostly nostalgic, it is not emotional. The writer talks about his childhood, how things were when he was kid, how, along with other things values changed too. He knows about his neighborhood like he has a hidden spy planted in every household. That well-informed he seems. I especially liked the second half, it's more retrospective and tells interesting tales.
It's a journey back to the time when Norwegians came to Wobegon and built it slowly. Though it's mostly nostalgic, it is not emotional. The writer talks about his childhood, how things were when he was kid, how, along with other things values changed too. He knows about his neighborhood like he has a hidden spy planted in every household. That well-informed he seems. I especially liked the second half, it's more retrospective and tells interesting tales.
April 9, 2008
(4/8/08): Toilsome. That's a good word to describe this book, if it even is a word. (It ought to be, if it's not.) Four hundred plus pages and not much to it.
Yes, I understand there's not really a plot to it. In fact, I'd bet there's a particular term to describe the type of writing Mr. Keillor endeavors. I don't know it and I just don't care for it. Yeah, there are some interesting parts about how town life affects so many of its residents (one of the problems - too many characters to really keep track of), but they are few and far between, at least for me.
A few zingers, for you though, because if nothing else, Mr. Keillor can do a bang up job at making a point clear or making something mundane, funny (and hey, this way, you don't have to read the book):
- " . . . buck up, be strong, believe in God, and be about your business."
- "Faced with the lonely alternative, we'd marry a Lutheran, and then, dazzled by the splendid music and vestments and stained glass, we'd forsake the truth for that carnival down the street."
- "I could always cross my fingers and prevent a real conversion. God would know I didn't mean it."
- " . . . unconsciously, out of habit, she spat a little ptui in the hanky and rubbed my forehead. Mother spit. Our holy water, the world's most powerful cleansing agent.
(4/3/08): It's not all that light. I'm tempted to agree with Jess that Lake Woebegon might be best on the radio. I *struggled* through the first hundred pages - really, I didn't need to know what a fictional town was like in the 1600s! Heck, I'm really not even all that concerned about what the US was like in the 1600s! But, now I'm up to the almost-modern day and the book's now in first person, so it's better. But 100 pages?! People, please.
(3/24/08): It's Garrison Keillor. I need something light, after "The Liar's Club." This should do it.
Yes, I understand there's not really a plot to it. In fact, I'd bet there's a particular term to describe the type of writing Mr. Keillor endeavors. I don't know it and I just don't care for it. Yeah, there are some interesting parts about how town life affects so many of its residents (one of the problems - too many characters to really keep track of), but they are few and far between, at least for me.
A few zingers, for you though, because if nothing else, Mr. Keillor can do a bang up job at making a point clear or making something mundane, funny (and hey, this way, you don't have to read the book):
- " . . . buck up, be strong, believe in God, and be about your business."
- "Faced with the lonely alternative, we'd marry a Lutheran, and then, dazzled by the splendid music and vestments and stained glass, we'd forsake the truth for that carnival down the street."
- "I could always cross my fingers and prevent a real conversion. God would know I didn't mean it."
- " . . . unconsciously, out of habit, she spat a little ptui in the hanky and rubbed my forehead. Mother spit. Our holy water, the world's most powerful cleansing agent.
(4/3/08): It's not all that light. I'm tempted to agree with Jess that Lake Woebegon might be best on the radio. I *struggled* through the first hundred pages - really, I didn't need to know what a fictional town was like in the 1600s! Heck, I'm really not even all that concerned about what the US was like in the 1600s! But, now I'm up to the almost-modern day and the book's now in first person, so it's better. But 100 pages?! People, please.
(3/24/08): It's Garrison Keillor. I need something light, after "The Liar's Club." This should do it.
February 27, 2011
Dear Garrison Keillor,
I read your book and liked it a lot. It took me a while to get through it, though. First I started reading it a couple of years ago, but I got so confused in the first few pages' footnotes about how many meters apart everything in town was that I thought it was going to be a boring book and quit. I started reading it again around August, and when I realized that you were just being cheeky, I quickly picked up on the style and began my enjoyment. I try not to be an obnoxious reader, but I couldn't help laughing out loud every few pages. Then I would have to stop and explain to my wife why I'm laughing. You do a great job putting the awkwardness and beauty of growing up and life in general into words that any Midwesterner could relate to. Thanks for spending all the time and thought it took to create this book. I'm sorry that I only spent $12.00 on it; it was worth more than that. I'm looking forward to the next time you visit Kansas City. My wife and I saw you here the other year--not when it was 110 degrees, but the time after that.
Your fan,
Eric S.
I read your book and liked it a lot. It took me a while to get through it, though. First I started reading it a couple of years ago, but I got so confused in the first few pages' footnotes about how many meters apart everything in town was that I thought it was going to be a boring book and quit. I started reading it again around August, and when I realized that you were just being cheeky, I quickly picked up on the style and began my enjoyment. I try not to be an obnoxious reader, but I couldn't help laughing out loud every few pages. Then I would have to stop and explain to my wife why I'm laughing. You do a great job putting the awkwardness and beauty of growing up and life in general into words that any Midwesterner could relate to. Thanks for spending all the time and thought it took to create this book. I'm sorry that I only spent $12.00 on it; it was worth more than that. I'm looking forward to the next time you visit Kansas City. My wife and I saw you here the other year--not when it was 110 degrees, but the time after that.
Your fan,
Eric S.
January 29, 2013
This is sweet, funny, unbelievably poignant, from the man who began his career (I believe, at least to the extent of being well-known) on public radio, then branched out.
Because this is so purely American, and much of it set in the post-war years,I never tried to share it with my husband, because he was not born in the US and didn't move here or start learning English till the 70s, so I thought the retro nuances would be lost on him. However, when he heard a brief excerpt that Keillor recited on (somewhere other than YouTube, but like many things, it got there), he responded in a way that surprised me. The emotion of his work is not so intense as to threaten, only to tug gently at the heartstrings, or even once in awhile, inspire a good belly-laugh. My spouse could relate to all of that,and if you have a taste for vintage Americana, or think you may, and if for some reason you have not yet been exposed to Keillor's work, this is the very best place to start.
Because this is so purely American, and much of it set in the post-war years,I never tried to share it with my husband, because he was not born in the US and didn't move here or start learning English till the 70s, so I thought the retro nuances would be lost on him. However, when he heard a brief excerpt that Keillor recited on (somewhere other than YouTube, but like many things, it got there), he responded in a way that surprised me. The emotion of his work is not so intense as to threaten, only to tug gently at the heartstrings, or even once in awhile, inspire a good belly-laugh. My spouse could relate to all of that,and if you have a taste for vintage Americana, or think you may, and if for some reason you have not yet been exposed to Keillor's work, this is the very best place to start.
May 28, 2020
Several years ago, I purchased a used hardback copy of Lake Wobegon Days at a garage sale. Alas, the pages sat unturned on my bookshelf until several weeks ago when the aftershocks of COVID 19 put me in the regrettable position of wanting something new to read with no libraries in sight, at least one with unlocked doors and still lending books. I've lived in the USA a long time and paid taxes for almost as long, to support this wonderous concept called a public library system. To see the statewide system shutdown fills me with sadness.
At this point in the review, I could take the narrative either way: into a rant about "living in a free country," or take it in the other direction and blame the man in the White House for not responding to the known threat of a deadly virus in a timely or appropriate fashion.
Instead, I'll laugh to myself, keep the essay short, and say that unless you're a big fan of Garrison Keillor, this is not his best work.
At this point in the review, I could take the narrative either way: into a rant about "living in a free country," or take it in the other direction and blame the man in the White House for not responding to the known threat of a deadly virus in a timely or appropriate fashion.
Instead, I'll laugh to myself, keep the essay short, and say that unless you're a big fan of Garrison Keillor, this is not his best work.
December 30, 2008
I'm going to have to take a break on this. I'm only on page 148 & I'm totally bored with it. It's taken me 2 days to read that much. That's really unlike me. So. I'm going to start another book & read this one little-by-little I guess.
Alright. Well. I finished it. Finally. This book really did nothing for me. I pretty much had to force my way though it. I admit, there were funny parts, but getting to them was pretty painful. I kept reading because it came to me so highly recommended by my mom & we usually have fairly similar tastes. All I can figure is that she is from a different time than me, and so she "got" more of it. I don't know. It really bored me.
Alright. Well. I finished it. Finally. This book really did nothing for me. I pretty much had to force my way though it. I admit, there were funny parts, but getting to them was pretty painful. I kept reading because it came to me so highly recommended by my mom & we usually have fairly similar tastes. All I can figure is that she is from a different time than me, and so she "got" more of it. I don't know. It really bored me.
July 14, 2013
Putting this one on the "I don't get it" shelf. I've never read Keillor before, started here, and likely will not try again. It seems like the people who enjoy his writing are those who grew to love him on the radio, and I've never heard him speak.
This isn't a novel, so much as a bunch of facts and stories about a fictional American town. It's a long rambling reminiscence with few recurring characters, no coherent trajectory and no discernible point whatsoever. There are some giggle-worthy sentences, but this just isn't funny enough to be considered a satire, which explains why some people see this as a cozy read and miss Keillor's point, which was...um...
This isn't a novel, so much as a bunch of facts and stories about a fictional American town. It's a long rambling reminiscence with few recurring characters, no coherent trajectory and no discernible point whatsoever. There are some giggle-worthy sentences, but this just isn't funny enough to be considered a satire, which explains why some people see this as a cozy read and miss Keillor's point, which was...um...
December 1, 2014
I loved it. Although it made me smile a lot, sometimes laughing out loud, it also had a almost neurotic undertone, but it never gets the better of the reader. The community of Lake Wobegone is described in so much detail, it is amazing. I skipped most of the footnotes in the end, since it became annoying to remember where I was in the book after having to read yet another footnote that was a chapter in itself. The characters are so all-American, yet it could have been our own neighborhood in South Africa. We played the same games, did the same silly teenage stuff and made the same stupid mistakes, debated the same religious and political divisions. I just realized how very American we actually are! lolol.
Of course we do not experience the deep, dark, hibernating winters and I had a good belly-laugh for many of the descriptions in the book, like this one: "Out on the country road, you can see Norwegian bachelor farmers have hung out their sheets. "When a bachelor farmer begins to smell himself, you know winter is over," says Clarence."
And this one: "One day it dawned on her (Mrs. Magendanz) that he must have an outhouse in the garage. The Dahls had moved off the farm into town only two years before. He had found that his bowels wouldn't budge on a flush toilet, so he dug a pit in the garage and was using it twice day."
And there was Bud who found digging his grandmother's grave too tough a job, so he used one stick of dynamite to get it over and done with.
And Margaret who worried that her soon-to-be husband might be a little too dull since he was way too quiet. Then she decided to kiss him in the neck during their visit to the movies in 1957, at the exact moment that Dracula bend over a young girl. She "found out that he had deep reserves of nervous energy. In one second, he distributed the box of popcorn over six rows of seats."
The book is about a community of about 800 people living in Lake Wobegone, a non-existent town, describing their history, hardships, humor, religions, traditions, thoughts, idiosyncrasies, everything in a lot of detail. It probably is one of the best books to read for immigrants to the country. It depicts the very heart of the people of America and it was done splendidly! I loved the down-to-earthiness of the characters, their honest stories, unpretentiousness. It really feels like meeting the core of real people who makes up the great nation at last!
I really really loved it!
Listen to this Podcast with the author about this book
Of course we do not experience the deep, dark, hibernating winters and I had a good belly-laugh for many of the descriptions in the book, like this one: "Out on the country road, you can see Norwegian bachelor farmers have hung out their sheets. "When a bachelor farmer begins to smell himself, you know winter is over," says Clarence."
And this one: "One day it dawned on her (Mrs. Magendanz) that he must have an outhouse in the garage. The Dahls had moved off the farm into town only two years before. He had found that his bowels wouldn't budge on a flush toilet, so he dug a pit in the garage and was using it twice day."
And there was Bud who found digging his grandmother's grave too tough a job, so he used one stick of dynamite to get it over and done with.
And Margaret who worried that her soon-to-be husband might be a little too dull since he was way too quiet. Then she decided to kiss him in the neck during their visit to the movies in 1957, at the exact moment that Dracula bend over a young girl. She "found out that he had deep reserves of nervous energy. In one second, he distributed the box of popcorn over six rows of seats."
The book is about a community of about 800 people living in Lake Wobegone, a non-existent town, describing their history, hardships, humor, religions, traditions, thoughts, idiosyncrasies, everything in a lot of detail. It probably is one of the best books to read for immigrants to the country. It depicts the very heart of the people of America and it was done splendidly! I loved the down-to-earthiness of the characters, their honest stories, unpretentiousness. It really feels like meeting the core of real people who makes up the great nation at last!
I really really loved it!
Listen to this Podcast with the author about this book
September 19, 2011
Being a lontime fan of Garrison Keillor's live radio show, A Prairie Home Companion, I was very curious about this novel. What surprised me was that the voice was exactly the same for both! Unfortunately, although the style works beautifully for the old-time radio show it is too cumbersome for print. The stories are fun enough; it's just that to truly enjoy them one needs to read them with Keillor's slow cadence. This makes the reading too slow for me. Oh well.
March 20, 2023
I found this hardcover copy in a little antique shop while on vacation in Texas Hill Country. It wasn’t exactly on my reading list, but I was a fan of A Prairie Home Companion and, more specifically, a fan of the News from Lake Wobegon segment of the show, so I figured if I liked that, I’d like this.
Though it started slow — the first couple of chapters are devoted to an account of the founding of the town and its very earliest days, told in a dry, encyclopedic tone, that was as much a labor to read as it felt it must have been to write — Lake Wobegon Days quickly picked up the pace and the wry, self-deprecating humor for which Garrison Keillor is known was on full display.
The trouble with a book like this is that it’s not much more than a collection of anecdotes, and, as such, doesn’t carry much in the way of emotional heft. What little there is comes at the very end, and it hit me in a way that nearly bumped this up to four stars: “Some luck lies in not getting what you thought you wanted but getting what you have, which once you have it you may be smart enough to see is what you would have wanted had you known.”
A tad folksy for some, but through that folkiness there’s a real truth there. I’m going to hold onto that, even if I’m unlikely to hold onto the book. I was glad to have read it, but it wasn’t quite the same without hearing Keillor’s breathy baritone coming over the airwaves.
Though it started slow — the first couple of chapters are devoted to an account of the founding of the town and its very earliest days, told in a dry, encyclopedic tone, that was as much a labor to read as it felt it must have been to write — Lake Wobegon Days quickly picked up the pace and the wry, self-deprecating humor for which Garrison Keillor is known was on full display.
The trouble with a book like this is that it’s not much more than a collection of anecdotes, and, as such, doesn’t carry much in the way of emotional heft. What little there is comes at the very end, and it hit me in a way that nearly bumped this up to four stars: “Some luck lies in not getting what you thought you wanted but getting what you have, which once you have it you may be smart enough to see is what you would have wanted had you known.”
A tad folksy for some, but through that folkiness there’s a real truth there. I’m going to hold onto that, even if I’m unlikely to hold onto the book. I was glad to have read it, but it wasn’t quite the same without hearing Keillor’s breathy baritone coming over the airwaves.
December 25, 2022
“Sumus quod sumus”(we are what we are)
Well you know how it goes on “A Prairie Home Companion “: ‘Lake Wobegon where all the women are strong and all the men are good-looking and the children are all above average,’ This could be a good fictional example of fictional American exceptionalism set in rural Minnesota which, despite being called the Mid-West, looks right smack in the middle of the North American continent to me. There’s not a person of colour in sight and the only other languages beside English are Scandinavian or German and the remnants of the first peoples’ idioms.
“There’s no Norwegians in Dickeyville: The Goose Island Ramblers”
https://music.youtube.com/watch?v=gm5...
These stories clearly represent a very skewed white backswoodmen representation with spirituality confined largely to Protestant reformation churches and particularly the Exclusive Brethren, in which Gary Keillor himself grew up. As I have been living in a town which has been nominated as a “Survivor Community” by Google Maps, probably because there’s a resident sect of this church, I was fascinated by this story of childhood. If this had stuck to this, it would definitely have remained a 4* read.
However, I struggled with the last 2 chapters which descended into a tedious gripe about his stunted emotional and psychosexual development which he blames solely on his mother and it nearly lost 2 stars, settling on 2.5 sporadically shimmering ✨
Well you know how it goes on “A Prairie Home Companion “: ‘Lake Wobegon where all the women are strong and all the men are good-looking and the children are all above average,’ This could be a good fictional example of fictional American exceptionalism set in rural Minnesota which, despite being called the Mid-West, looks right smack in the middle of the North American continent to me. There’s not a person of colour in sight and the only other languages beside English are Scandinavian or German and the remnants of the first peoples’ idioms.
“There’s no Norwegians in Dickeyville: The Goose Island Ramblers”
https://music.youtube.com/watch?v=gm5...
These stories clearly represent a very skewed white backswoodmen representation with spirituality confined largely to Protestant reformation churches and particularly the Exclusive Brethren, in which Gary Keillor himself grew up. As I have been living in a town which has been nominated as a “Survivor Community” by Google Maps, probably because there’s a resident sect of this church, I was fascinated by this story of childhood. If this had stuck to this, it would definitely have remained a 4* read.
However, I struggled with the last 2 chapters which descended into a tedious gripe about his stunted emotional and psychosexual development which he blames solely on his mother and it nearly lost 2 stars, settling on 2.5 sporadically shimmering ✨
August 1, 2025
I love Garrison Keillor’s stories. However, I absolutely cannot read the books. The stories just don’t have any life without Garrison Keillor telling them. His live performances are where his work really shines.
May 3, 2021
Though the book is very funny, I found his personal style denigrating. I can hardly explain but I felt like I disagreed with many of the undercurrents inside his writing. I laughed at his jokes but felt he missed the meaning behind the faith of his uncles, the true value of his family, and the God who made him.
April 1, 2020
An early compendium of Lake Wobegon lore, going back to the town's ignoble founding in the late 1800s and including a number of tales that made it into the monologues, like the car on the ice lottery for ice-out date. I read it to be impressed again by the virulence of the 95 Theses of a disaffected modern young guy rebelling against the constraints of small-town life, accusing his family and the community of innumerable offenses against joie de vivre, which has crippled his ability to life life fully in the larger world. Frankly, I just did not find it all that virulent this time around, and considerably more whiny. While correct in his accusations, few of the issues are effects he could not have risen above and beyond, if he set his mind to it. More blackly pointed was the late chapter on the religious revival, which really captured for me the hideousness of that kind of melodramatic proselytizing, but also the attraction such bullshit has for small-town life deprived of drama.
I found it surprisingly slow to read, though I am not sure why. I did not remember much of the early half of the book from my first reading many years ago, and I did not remember the revival scenes, which were among the best this time around.
I will remember my disappointment in working through the 95 Theses again. I came away with a sense of the characters in the town as more small-minded and complacent in their know-nothingness that they come across in the monologues. I will also remember the extended portrayal of life growing up in the Sanctified Brethren, as pared down and protesting a Protestant sect as one can imagine. I will remember the footnote by a Lutheran, commenting on how everyone would have been better off if the Brethren has been more concerned with the sins of envy and cupidity, and less with the sins of the flesh.
I found it surprisingly slow to read, though I am not sure why. I did not remember much of the early half of the book from my first reading many years ago, and I did not remember the revival scenes, which were among the best this time around.
I will remember my disappointment in working through the 95 Theses again. I came away with a sense of the characters in the town as more small-minded and complacent in their know-nothingness that they come across in the monologues. I will also remember the extended portrayal of life growing up in the Sanctified Brethren, as pared down and protesting a Protestant sect as one can imagine. I will remember the footnote by a Lutheran, commenting on how everyone would have been better off if the Brethren has been more concerned with the sins of envy and cupidity, and less with the sins of the flesh.
November 3, 2011
What is Lake Wobegon? Is it a place? Is it a state of mind? Is it nothing more than a nostalgic longing for times gone by? In his first Lake Wobegon novel, Garrison Keillor introduces us to his semi-autobiographical world of memory. He leaps between the present and past as he breathes life into his fictional Midwestern world. His characters are unique and interesting not because they are bigger than life, but because they could be your neighbor, your best friend, or even yourself. Lake Wobegon’s greatest success is that of its familiarity.
It would be hard to categorize Lake Wobegon Days as nothing more than a longing for simpler times. Often, Keillor’s characters wage internal wars about progress and principles. The characters that leave Wobegon for college have a tendency to develop feelings of superiority over those back home. They view the small town way of life and their earnestness as being intolerant and anti-intellectual. Of course, this tension and mistrust works both ways. The Wobegonians view big cities as places of skewed moral compasses. Keillor does not take sides in the argument. Instead, you have a feeling that the author himself is just as torn between the two views.
Keillor’s first novel carries all the trademark humor that fans of The Prairie Home Companion have come to expect. There are points where he loses his footing and gets lost in his own storytelling, but overall the novel is strong. Keillor has the framework in place, but he is still fleshing out the mythology that we have come to call Lake Wobegon - “where all the women are strong, all the men are good looking, and all the children are above average.” His greatest gift is his ability to make you feel part of this "worn-in" community of characters.
It would be hard to categorize Lake Wobegon Days as nothing more than a longing for simpler times. Often, Keillor’s characters wage internal wars about progress and principles. The characters that leave Wobegon for college have a tendency to develop feelings of superiority over those back home. They view the small town way of life and their earnestness as being intolerant and anti-intellectual. Of course, this tension and mistrust works both ways. The Wobegonians view big cities as places of skewed moral compasses. Keillor does not take sides in the argument. Instead, you have a feeling that the author himself is just as torn between the two views.
Keillor’s first novel carries all the trademark humor that fans of The Prairie Home Companion have come to expect. There are points where he loses his footing and gets lost in his own storytelling, but overall the novel is strong. Keillor has the framework in place, but he is still fleshing out the mythology that we have come to call Lake Wobegon - “where all the women are strong, all the men are good looking, and all the children are above average.” His greatest gift is his ability to make you feel part of this "worn-in" community of characters.
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July 27, 2007Garrison Keillor is a rambling kind of person/writer who just keeps spewing details and weaving threads in a fabric of Lake Wobegon. His somewhat satirical take on a small town, his own hometown - possibly, I still can't figure out if this is a work of fiction or not, and frankly I don't mind - reminds me of stephen leacock's sunshine sketches of a small town, nostalgia and humour, pride in one's hometown, made up or real. A book to be savoured, read in the right place.
"“Humankind knows no finer amenity than the screened porch. It is the temple of family life, and the sacred preserve of the luxurious custom known as “visiting.” Compare it to the barbarity of the “business lunch,” the hideous conversational burden of the cocktail party, and the prison that is the formal dinner, the porch visit shines with civility."
"“Humankind knows no finer amenity than the screened porch. It is the temple of family life, and the sacred preserve of the luxurious custom known as “visiting.” Compare it to the barbarity of the “business lunch,” the hideous conversational burden of the cocktail party, and the prison that is the formal dinner, the porch visit shines with civility."
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