A Children's Book About Beer?
Yes, believe it or not, but B Is for Beer is also a book for adults, and bear in mind that it's the work of maverick best-selling novelist Tom Robbins, internationally known for his ability to both seriously illuminate and comically entertain.
Once upon a time (right about now) there was a planet (how about this one?) whose inhabitants consumed 36 billion gallons of beer each year (it's a fact, you can Google it). Among those affected, each in his or her own way, by all the bubbles, burps, and foam, was a smart, wide-eyed, adventurous kindergartner named Gracie; her distracted mommy; her insensitive dad; her non-conformist uncle; and a magical, butt-kicking intruder from a world within our world.
Populated by the aforementioned character ;and as charming as it may be subversive, B Is for Beer involves readers, young and old, in a surprising, far-reaching investigation into the limits of reality, the transformative powers of children, and, of course, the ultimate meaning of a tall, cold brewski.
©2009 Tom Robbins; (P)2009 HarperCollins Publishers
Very disappointing story. Figured one couldn't go wrong with two of my favorite things: Tom Robbins and Beer; but it couldn't have been a greater let - down. The story is written through the eyes of a 6 yr. old girl. This is a problem, because Robbins doesn't allow himself to indulge in his usual INDULGENCES. The kind of reckless abandon in sexual metaphysics I'd grown to expect and appreciate in his writings. The narrator sounds just a little too much like a six year old, and the subject's continuous misinterpretations of all things adult, grow tiresome. Having four daughters of my own might have made me a bit sensitive to this dynamic, but not too much. I've read all his other books, and have always come away with great belly laughs and some newly developed insight about this crazy thing we call life. This book provided neither.
I couldn’t be more deeply disappointed. Anyone who would read this book to a six year old really ought ought to have his head (and motives) examined. I was hoping to find a book for adults cleverly written in the style of children's books, but sadly that is not the case. This isn't whimsical, it is lazy and misguided. It's a sad day when your loving, eccentric uncle with the fantastic stories ends up being just another burn out who yells rambling, mundanely inappropriate diatribes at kids in the park. At least Kurt Vonnegut was true to the end.
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