Fans pick 98 books like Trump Was a Joke

I love this satirical book because, through humor, it generated productive discomfort within me and thus attached valuable lessons to my emotional responses. The book even stirred up childhood memories for me and forced me to reflect on my past, on my life experiences. In other words, I haven’t forgotten what I learned from this book. And I won’t.

I never thought I could laugh so hard while absorbing hard truths about race and racism until I encountered this provocative book. I love that the book includes striking historical information. Overall, I appreciate how the authors present their position in such a way that kept the book on my mind even when it was not in my hands.

Although it was Mercer's Talking to Americans that had me rolling on the floor, I list Streeters only because Talking to Americans isn't available in book format. That said, I do feel an affinity with Streeters for its rantiness (indeed, the subtitle is Rants and Raves from This Hour has 22 Minutes). Sometimes his stuff is too Political-capital-P for me (I don't follow the news anymore), but often it's just political-small-p—which is just right.

A story about a biographer who pokes into the corners of a Nobel-winning author’s salacious life to write an exposé is juicy enough, but what happens when the latter uses the opportunity to write a counter-exposé on the former? Unstructured in plot and other novel-craft, this book is laden with pithy quotes on the writing life. The biographer and his subject are libidinous, adulterous, and self-absorbed, a testament to the fact that a writer has to be appreciated separately from their work. Also on display are the strategies employed by the publishing industry to keep the reputation and marketability of a once best-selling author alive, long after their effective shelf-life. 

Jeanne Steig wrote a giddy delightful poem for each letter of the alphabet. The poems are replete with weird and wonderful words. The goofy illustrations by William Steig tickle your eyes. One of my favorite poems is "Mishmash". Notice all of the many M words in Mishmash: mallet, misguided, minimize, mix, milk. Could Myron majestically mash potatoes? Mmmm, no.

Mishmash
Making mashed potatoes, Myron?
Must you mix them with the hammer?
This bizarre, misguided method
Causes quite a katzenjammer.

Might you add the milk and butter
In a more majestic manner?
Might a mallet not be better?
That would minimize the clamor.

This is not a novel, but a collection of Lardner's newspapers columns and short stories, many of which revolve around a bush league pitcher named Jack Keefe who tells stories to his friend.

I love baseball and am fascinated by the early days of the game, and Lardner's Jack makes me feel as if I am experiencing life in baseball's “bushes” back in the 1920s. Oh, yea, that's the other draw of this book for me a view, from his columns and other stories, of the daily grind of American life in an era that was much more than flappers and bathtub gin. (Although there is a bit of both therein). 

Much of what I learned about real friendship I learned from Star Trek. From the many episodes of the original series I saw in syndication to the heartbreaking ending of Wrath of Kahn, the principle of “I am, and forever will be, your friend,” has influenced many of my friendships over the years. 

This book explores those friendships we have seen on screen, from Kirk and Spock, to Picard and Data, from Janeway and Seven of Nine to Bashir and Garak. Told through the eyes of fans, this is a great gift to yourself or your best friend if you want to make them jealous.

There is one very excellent reason to read this book: It’s hilarious. Ms. King delivers her memoir of a 1950s-60s Southern childhood with searing, laugh-til-you-cry wit as she turns classic Southern tropes on their eccentric heads. Everything from the ubiquitous obsession with lineage (“Who are your people?”) to a mother’s nickname for a wayward child (“Mama Tried”) receives its due. It’s a must-read if you want to understand Southern culture or if only to make acquaintance with Ms. King’s most famous one-liner, an admission of the indelible effects of Southern training even in failed ladies: “No matter what sex I slept with, I never smoked on the street.” 

The juxtaposition of Eve Babitz’s unabashed hedonism and her incisive ability to nail a situation are not what you normally expect.

This book ranges all over southern California of the 1960s and 1970s, always coming back to the place Eve loved best, Los Angeles, a place of “vast sprawls, smog, and luke nights: L.A. It is where I work best, where I can live, oblivious to physical reality.”

When I moved to Los Angeles, I was disposed to love it, but it was hard to find any confirmation in books! I am delighted with Eve Babitz, who, with extravagant and precise language, celebrates the place.

I’m instantly hooked by an essay that’s irreverently funny but has a heart. David lives in his head and overanalyzes his life’s experiences. As an overthinker, I relate. I’ve always found humor in my own or others’ neuroses, and some of my best friendships are those in which we compare obsessions and funny/awkward experiences. I feel like I’m with a friend when I read his essays. 

Marcus Berkmann doesn’t write about great famous cricket players of superb accomplishments. He writes about people who are also great, but in a different way. He writes about incompetent amateurs like us, the ordinary weekend cricketers.

Berkmann is a prime example with a thunderously low batting average. It’s all about failure in so many ways and is so hilarious for being all that. It’s absolutely perfect for reading in the cricket pavilion or in your car on a rain-affected cricket day waiting for the showers to stop. But you will still get wet with tears of laughter. It’s so true of trivial human life.