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My Heart Is an Idiot: Essays
Davy Rothbart is looking for love in all the wrong places. Constantly. He falls helplessly in love with pretty much every girl he meets—and rarely is the feeling reciprocated. Time after time, he hops in a car and tears across half of America with his heart on his sleeve. He’s continually coming up with outrageous schemes, which he always manages to pull off. Well, almost always. But even when things don’t work out, Rothbart finds meaning and humor in every moment. Whether it’s humiliating a scammer who takes money from aspiring writers or playing harmless (but side-splitting) goofs on his deaf mother, nothing and no one is off-limits.
But as much as Rothbart is a tragically lovable, irresistibly brokenhearted hero, it’s his prose that’s the star of the book. In the tradition of David Sedaris and Sloane Crosley but going places very much his own, his essays show how things that are seemingly so wrong can be so, so right.
But as much as Rothbart is a tragically lovable, irresistibly brokenhearted hero, it’s his prose that’s the star of the book. In the tradition of David Sedaris and Sloane Crosley but going places very much his own, his essays show how things that are seemingly so wrong can be so, so right.
307 pages, Hardcover
First published September 4, 2012
106 people are currently reading
3223 people want to read
About the author
Davy Rothbart
34 books100 followersDavy Rothbart's magazine Found is dedicated to discarded notes, letters, flyers, photos, lists, and drawings found and sent in by readers. The magazine spawned a best-selling book, Found: The Best Lost, Tossed, and Forgotten Items from Around the World, published in April 2004. A second collection was published in May 2006. The magazine is published annually and co-edited by Rothbart's friend Jason Bitner.
Rothbart, a former Chicago Bulls ticket scalper, often tours the country to share finds and invite others to share their finds with him. His brother, musician Peter Rothbart, often accompanies him on these tours.
The Lone Surfer of Montana, Kansas, a collection of Rothbart's short-stories, was published in August 2005 by Simon & Schuster. A shorter version of the same book was previously self-published by Rothbart's own production company, 21 Balloons Productions (named after Rothbart's favorite book, The 21 Balloons, by William Pène du Bois). An Italian edition, Il Surfista Solitario del Montana, was published in 2007 by Coniglio Editore. In 2008, actor Steve Buscemi optioned the book for film adaption, to be developed by Olive Productions; Buscemi has written the screenplay and plans to direct.
Rothbart, a former Chicago Bulls ticket scalper, often tours the country to share finds and invite others to share their finds with him. His brother, musician Peter Rothbart, often accompanies him on these tours.
The Lone Surfer of Montana, Kansas, a collection of Rothbart's short-stories, was published in August 2005 by Simon & Schuster. A shorter version of the same book was previously self-published by Rothbart's own production company, 21 Balloons Productions (named after Rothbart's favorite book, The 21 Balloons, by William Pène du Bois). An Italian edition, Il Surfista Solitario del Montana, was published in 2007 by Coniglio Editore. In 2008, actor Steve Buscemi optioned the book for film adaption, to be developed by Olive Productions; Buscemi has written the screenplay and plans to direct.
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Displaying 1 - 30 of 293 reviews
December 13, 2012
I hated this book. I cannot believe it is so highly praised. It is so bad and juvenile that I can't bear to read another page. I am almost embarrassed to say I read around sixty pages of it before I threw in the towel. It just proves there is something for everyone out there in reader land. But this poor thing is just not for me.
Update 12-12-12: HA! I sold this bastardo. So glad to have it gone from my sight.
Update 12-12-12: HA! I sold this bastardo. So glad to have it gone from my sight.
April 24, 2013
Conflicted about this one. On the one hand, the writing is very good. On the other, it's just simply hard to like Rothbart. I was with him up until "Shade," in which he ditches, overnight, a sweet girl he has intense chemistry with when they talk for days cross-country over the phone -- the kind of connection that he claims to be looking for, longing for, throughout the entire book -- because, when he meets her face-to-face, she's just not pretty enough. So he lies to her with a wimpy, transparent excuse, dumps her, and instead pursues a beautiful girl he's never spoken to who works in a Subway restaurant. Ick. This must be what Rothbart means when he says his heart is an idiot, but he's too ready to excuse himself and said heart. He's amused by his idiotic heart too often, when he should be a bit more bothered -- ashamed, even -- by his own behavior. At one point, there's even a point in one of the stories in which he says that he's mostly drawn to women in the service industry: waitresses, bartenders, and the like. He says this without any apparent insight. Of COURSE you fall for them, Davy! They're objects to you! They are paid to be nice, to get you what you ask for. You don't see them as real people; you put them on a pedestal, fall "in love", and then are crushed when they aren't interested.
In any case, because I found him so unlikable, I preferred the (few) stories that weren't about him, that were instead about some of the inspiring, unique people he met on his many road trips. My favorite was "How I Got These Boots."
My friend, who lives in Michigan and has gone to some of Rothbart's readings, had this to say when I told her about the story:
"He's no prize. He's short, dresses like a wanna-be gangsta, and clearly worships himself."
But, she added, he does put on a good show.
In any case, because I found him so unlikable, I preferred the (few) stories that weren't about him, that were instead about some of the inspiring, unique people he met on his many road trips. My favorite was "How I Got These Boots."
My friend, who lives in Michigan and has gone to some of Rothbart's readings, had this to say when I told her about the story:
"He's no prize. He's short, dresses like a wanna-be gangsta, and clearly worships himself."
But, she added, he does put on a good show.
June 14, 2014
If you want a handful of life lessons (sixteen in fact) on how to fuck up more than a few relationships with a road map and GPS satellite in your hip pocket to comfort you on your dark days, then MY HEART IS AN IDIOT could provide you better comfort than a blanket, a glass of warm milk, and your favorite movie on the tube. Whether you’re a cynic by nature or even if you’re holding out for the storybook fairytale or maybe a hero that goes by another name, you could find yourself mixing equal parts amusement and sadness and then flipping the switch to high. What comes out on the other side could leave you more than a little horrified, like the latest train wreck plastered across the news, but you can also comfort yourself in knowing that you weren’t on this particular train when it exited the station.
“Bigger and Deafer” – When it comes to making fun of people with disabilities, the appropriate response is no. Always no. But then I like to think I have more than two cents to rub together.
“Human Snowball” – If you want to read about a bus ride and a botched encounter with Lauren Hill (not the Lauryn Hill), then you’ll probably want to give this story a go. On a side note, Vernon adds a bit of comedic relief.
“What Are You Wearing?” – If you want a checklist in how not to conduct phone sex, and when to probably pass on picking up the motel phone, you’ll find your answers here. If you’re still confused when you reach the end, you might want to start from the beginning all over again.
“The 8th of November” – How Jim Thompson, arguably the best Ford mechanic in the Beltway, developed a friendship with the author with the idiot heart.
“Ninety-Nine Bottles of Pee on the Wall” – Meeting an author can be a pleasurable experience (most of the time) unless you’re Davy Rothbart and you carry around a few bottles of pee in your backpack. Which leads to a whole new set of problems and more than a few therapy sessions.
“How I Got These Boots” – A pair of boots, the Grand Canyon, and more than a few memories. What more could you ask for?
“Shade” – Sometimes you need to do a bit of searching to find a shady spot in New Mexico, and the author certainly had more than a bit of trouble with this as well. If it wasn’t for bad luck, a missed opportunity with Maggie, and a fruitless search for the mysterious Shade—the person, not the spot allotted tree cover—this one might have had a positive outcome. Sadly, though, he’s striking out more often than a power hitter with a swing flaw.
“Nibble, Lick, Suck, and Feast” – If you want to discover a bit of hilarity on an author tour, this story’s for you. If not, then we’ll move right along.
“Canada or Bust” – Missy, another female name that begins with M, and thus we have yet another missed opportunity in the love quest. If you need to improve the dating pool, there’s always San Francisco.
“Naked in New York” – How does one end up naked on a park bench? Apparently it’s not all that hard to do, and certainly not in “The Big Apple.” Read this tale for a few pointers.
“Tarantula” – Don’t have sex anywhere near a tarantula. Even if it’s in a glass cage and it’s far away from the bed. I don’t care how good she looks (the woman, not the tarantula), or whether or not she kidnaps you and tosses you in the back of the trunk, and promises to rock your world for the next sixteen days. Just…don’t. You’ll thank me later.
“Southwest” – Davy Rothbart may be blessed when it comes to sitting next to beautiful women on airplanes, but he probably needs a bit of help with his delivery and follow through. But that seems to repeat a bit too regularly over the course of these essays.
“New York, New York” – Maggie Smith knows how to strike a pose; the Twin Towers ended up in a pile of rubble; a few interviews got off to a glitch filled start; the bus ride proved longer than planned; and never say no to a woman named Laquisha.
“Tessa” – Drexel University and beer pong sound reasonably appealing, until Tessa proves a little free with her favors with another man, and you’re left shedding a few tears in your beer. There’s no crying in baseball, but I guess there is in beer pong.
“The Strongest Man in the World” – Peter, Byron, Evelyn, and Davy sitting in a tree, recounting a few stories, or maybe it’s three. Tell a few tales, but don’t pass the buck. If you’re not too careful, you might be out of luck.
“Ain’t That America?” – The moral of this story: You can strike out in love on more than one continent. Just keep that in mind the next time you’re moaning and groaning in your cup of tea.
So, in summary, there’s much to enjoy here. If you’re the kind of Joe who likes to watch a train derailment or two, or you’re one of those rubberneckers on the interstate trying to see the extent of the damage, you’ve just discovered your new source of enjoyment for the day. Just be thankful it’s not your life, and hope to hell you have a bit more luck in the relationship arena, otherwise you might want a Prozac or a Xanax.
Cross-posted at Robert's Reads
“Bigger and Deafer” – When it comes to making fun of people with disabilities, the appropriate response is no. Always no. But then I like to think I have more than two cents to rub together.
“Human Snowball” – If you want to read about a bus ride and a botched encounter with Lauren Hill (not the Lauryn Hill), then you’ll probably want to give this story a go. On a side note, Vernon adds a bit of comedic relief.
“What Are You Wearing?” – If you want a checklist in how not to conduct phone sex, and when to probably pass on picking up the motel phone, you’ll find your answers here. If you’re still confused when you reach the end, you might want to start from the beginning all over again.
“The 8th of November” – How Jim Thompson, arguably the best Ford mechanic in the Beltway, developed a friendship with the author with the idiot heart.
“Ninety-Nine Bottles of Pee on the Wall” – Meeting an author can be a pleasurable experience (most of the time) unless you’re Davy Rothbart and you carry around a few bottles of pee in your backpack. Which leads to a whole new set of problems and more than a few therapy sessions.
“How I Got These Boots” – A pair of boots, the Grand Canyon, and more than a few memories. What more could you ask for?
“Shade” – Sometimes you need to do a bit of searching to find a shady spot in New Mexico, and the author certainly had more than a bit of trouble with this as well. If it wasn’t for bad luck, a missed opportunity with Maggie, and a fruitless search for the mysterious Shade—the person, not the spot allotted tree cover—this one might have had a positive outcome. Sadly, though, he’s striking out more often than a power hitter with a swing flaw.
“Nibble, Lick, Suck, and Feast” – If you want to discover a bit of hilarity on an author tour, this story’s for you. If not, then we’ll move right along.
“Canada or Bust” – Missy, another female name that begins with M, and thus we have yet another missed opportunity in the love quest. If you need to improve the dating pool, there’s always San Francisco.
“Naked in New York” – How does one end up naked on a park bench? Apparently it’s not all that hard to do, and certainly not in “The Big Apple.” Read this tale for a few pointers.
“Tarantula” – Don’t have sex anywhere near a tarantula. Even if it’s in a glass cage and it’s far away from the bed. I don’t care how good she looks (the woman, not the tarantula), or whether or not she kidnaps you and tosses you in the back of the trunk, and promises to rock your world for the next sixteen days. Just…don’t. You’ll thank me later.
“Southwest” – Davy Rothbart may be blessed when it comes to sitting next to beautiful women on airplanes, but he probably needs a bit of help with his delivery and follow through. But that seems to repeat a bit too regularly over the course of these essays.
“New York, New York” – Maggie Smith knows how to strike a pose; the Twin Towers ended up in a pile of rubble; a few interviews got off to a glitch filled start; the bus ride proved longer than planned; and never say no to a woman named Laquisha.
“Tessa” – Drexel University and beer pong sound reasonably appealing, until Tessa proves a little free with her favors with another man, and you’re left shedding a few tears in your beer. There’s no crying in baseball, but I guess there is in beer pong.
“The Strongest Man in the World” – Peter, Byron, Evelyn, and Davy sitting in a tree, recounting a few stories, or maybe it’s three. Tell a few tales, but don’t pass the buck. If you’re not too careful, you might be out of luck.
“Ain’t That America?” – The moral of this story: You can strike out in love on more than one continent. Just keep that in mind the next time you’re moaning and groaning in your cup of tea.
So, in summary, there’s much to enjoy here. If you’re the kind of Joe who likes to watch a train derailment or two, or you’re one of those rubberneckers on the interstate trying to see the extent of the damage, you’ve just discovered your new source of enjoyment for the day. Just be thankful it’s not your life, and hope to hell you have a bit more luck in the relationship arena, otherwise you might want a Prozac or a Xanax.
Cross-posted at Robert's Reads
March 28, 2017
Spoiler alert: the heart's not the idiot part of him.
October 18, 2012
If your heart is also an idiot, you'll relate with this book.
Davy Rothbart seems to get passed over by the ladies more often than most. Maybe it's because he's so earnest about falling in love with almost every girl he meets that the girls sense it is impermanent? Or just because nice guys finish last? Or because he seems to be on the road so often? I suspect it's a combination of these things, and also that, as he posits toward the end of the book, it's the chase he's really after. He loves falling in love constantly.
From one woman's point of view, the fact that a book like this exists speaks to a number of possibly-important lessons. One, that there are men out there whose hearts are as soft and squishy as our own hearts. Two, that there are at least a couple intelligent, weird, kind men over the age of 30 who would send pee to a stranger, travel immense distances more than once in his life to meet with someone he never met before who could just maybe be "the one," and who would befriend someone in prison who was wrongfully convicted of murder and help try to free him--and yet isn't married. And three, that men really are cheating scum. Even when they seem to be on a constant search for a good girlfriend and they find one, they'll cheat on them. Of course, I already knew this, both from experience and also from reading the excellent book Sex at Dawn, which, to be fair, teaches us that all humans are cheaters, regardless of gender.
In any case, this is an entertaining, quick read where some really crazy, unexpected stuff happens. Odd friendships are forged quickly, drunken shenanigans result in waking up naked on the streets of NYC, and a dead body is found. No joke! You should probably read it.
Davy Rothbart seems to get passed over by the ladies more often than most. Maybe it's because he's so earnest about falling in love with almost every girl he meets that the girls sense it is impermanent? Or just because nice guys finish last? Or because he seems to be on the road so often? I suspect it's a combination of these things, and also that, as he posits toward the end of the book, it's the chase he's really after. He loves falling in love constantly.
From one woman's point of view, the fact that a book like this exists speaks to a number of possibly-important lessons. One, that there are men out there whose hearts are as soft and squishy as our own hearts. Two, that there are at least a couple intelligent, weird, kind men over the age of 30 who would send pee to a stranger, travel immense distances more than once in his life to meet with someone he never met before who could just maybe be "the one," and who would befriend someone in prison who was wrongfully convicted of murder and help try to free him--and yet isn't married. And three, that men really are cheating scum. Even when they seem to be on a constant search for a good girlfriend and they find one, they'll cheat on them. Of course, I already knew this, both from experience and also from reading the excellent book Sex at Dawn, which, to be fair, teaches us that all humans are cheaters, regardless of gender.
In any case, this is an entertaining, quick read where some really crazy, unexpected stuff happens. Odd friendships are forged quickly, drunken shenanigans result in waking up naked on the streets of NYC, and a dead body is found. No joke! You should probably read it.
Read
June 16, 2015Full disclosure: I’ve read My Heart Is an Idiot before. I’ve read all of Davy’s books, and his magazine, FOUND, too. I just needed to read this one again. Davy’s essays are almost always about traveling the country, propelled or pulled by one love or another, and the strange things, people, places, situations he finds himself in along the way. I love his stories not only because I relate to them, but because one moment I’ll myself laughing loudly and the next I’ll be stunned into silence by one really real sentence that just gets to the heart of what it’s like to be a human with feelings. Readers seem to either love or hate Davy’s stories. I love them—a lot. — Lynn Crothers
from The Best Books We Read In May: http://bookriot.com/2015/06/02/riot-r...
from The Best Books We Read In May: http://bookriot.com/2015/06/02/riot-r...
November 5, 2013
3.5 stars. It's a quick read. At first I didn't care too much for the book. His stories were good and the book well-written, but neither blew me out of the water. They sometimes felt a bit exaggerated, like those who collect stories tend to do now and then. And I didn't love his character- maybe if he was a little less self-absorbed, fell in and out of love a little less easily, partook in a little less drinking and driving - maybe then it would've been easier for me to love his stories as well. But I didn't, so I found myself wondering why I should care about his stories anyways. Why was I reading about this stranger's life tales and expected to really enjoy them? And then I realized that while I didn't love the book, there was something kind of beautiful about it. He's a normal person, which makes me wonder why I should care, but also makes him relatable. He wasn't flying off on his private jet or throwing parties on his yacht, he was prioritizing that sense of freedom and adventure and making it happen, one way or another. "My Heart Is an Idiot" captures the sort of "average" person's life, with its random collection of stories and moments shared with people who pass in and out, and how we carry those experiences with us. It's nothing extraordinary, but it's real and full of life, those "miraculous" coincidences that occur, the ups and downs and mostly just the in-betweens, all subject to our own flawed inner monologue. Throughout, I felt like something was missing, that I wanted things just to be a bit more intense or exciting, but I guess life tends to be that way sometimes and intentionally or not, Davy does a good job portraying that.
February 2, 2013
These essays remind me of the stories guys tell you so you'll want to go out to dinner with them. The ones that make them seem adventurous, funny, capable of deep love, but not without faults that women will somehow find endearing instead of offensive. Maybe that was the point? Are you trying to ask us out, Davy Rothbart?!
It's hard to believe some of these tales. Perhaps they are really realistic fiction. Perhaps some are just mildly embellished. Perhaps life really does work in crazy ways and these are all entirely true--we've probably all lived long enough to see life's craziness, and even if we've forgotten those times, perhaps it's fun to believe we all have some interesting stories yet to unfold.
The best part of this book is that is is essays. So, it gives you a good way to break it down into manageable sections that can be read before you go to bed every night.
It's hard to believe some of these tales. Perhaps they are really realistic fiction. Perhaps some are just mildly embellished. Perhaps life really does work in crazy ways and these are all entirely true--we've probably all lived long enough to see life's craziness, and even if we've forgotten those times, perhaps it's fun to believe we all have some interesting stories yet to unfold.
The best part of this book is that is is essays. So, it gives you a good way to break it down into manageable sections that can be read before you go to bed every night.
January 5, 2016
This book very much reminded me of the time I was caught captive audience to a garden-variety narcissist on a 24-hour bus trip.
The whole time he wouldn't shut up about himself, obviously thinking his cringeworthy stories show him in the best light, while I was thinking "Oh boy, you couldn't make yourself sound more pathetic if you wanted to."
Another association this book gives me is trying to have a quiet drink with a friend, when a talkative drunk invites yourself at you table and ruins your night with his "amusing" stories.
You half-listen, being equal parts bored and disgusted, thinking of an escape plan. Just when you decide to say you are going to the restroom and text your friend to meet you there, the guys roarers with laughter at his own punchline, spitting saliva in your faces.
The whole time he wouldn't shut up about himself, obviously thinking his cringeworthy stories show him in the best light, while I was thinking "Oh boy, you couldn't make yourself sound more pathetic if you wanted to."
Another association this book gives me is trying to have a quiet drink with a friend, when a talkative drunk invites yourself at you table and ruins your night with his "amusing" stories.
You half-listen, being equal parts bored and disgusted, thinking of an escape plan. Just when you decide to say you are going to the restroom and text your friend to meet you there, the guys roarers with laughter at his own punchline, spitting saliva in your faces.
February 23, 2013
I only read this 'cause I had to interview the dude for the Press Street Room 220 blog. I didn't dislike it as much as I expected to. It's kind of like reading a blog by someone who's funny and has some good stories. Hey do you think that blogs help save paper from making books like this? Or is that difference irrelevant due to all the books put out that are just compiled of memes and twitter posts? Dude, fuck the world!
April 26, 2021
DNF - quit forty-five minutes into the audio book when the white author casually drops the n-word while describing the atmosphere of a story. I was already waiting for the book to "get to the good part", but I no longer feel the need to keep searching for a good part.
March 16, 2014
I came across “Human Snowball” in The Best American Non-Required Reading-2013 and I thought it was fiction.
Um, wrong.
“Snowball” starts with a fairly factual opening statement: “On February 14, 200, I took the Greyhound bus from Detroit to Buffalo to visit a girl named Lauren Hill. Not Lauryn Hill the singer, who did that cover of ‘Killing Me Softly,’ but another Lauren Hill, who’d gone to my high school, and now, almost ten years later, was about to become my girlfriend, I hoped.”
I mean, that could be fiction. Reliable narrator and all that.
The cover of "My Heart is an Idiot" calls these stories “essays" and I'm not sure about that, either. Maybe just non-fiction stories.
With passion tattooed on his bicep for everyone to see, Davy Rothbart is the likable star and hero of his ever-changing world. Surely he’s literary three-way love child of Jack Kerouac, Studs Terkel and, I don’t know, Lord Byron.
If you think your life might be a bit too dull, a bit too routine, a bit too lockstep, "My Heart is an Idiot" will give you armchair travel time with a guy who follows the smallest urges and wispiest reasons to chase down offbeat dreams and stray questions. And women. Mostly, women. A stranger or two, maybe, but it would be a nice if all this being out there led to an introduction to a cool woman.
But like the action in “Human Snowball," Davy Rothbart gets bounced and whacked by the giant pinball flippers of life. Many of these stories start out being one thing and morph suddenly or slowly into something else.
For 14 years, Rothbart has been running Found magazine, which collects love letters, birthday cards, kids’ homework, to-do lists, ticket stubs, poetry on napkins, doodles (this is from their web site)—anything that gives a glimpse into someone else’s life. He’s also a contributor to “This American Life” on NPR and there’s a ton of videos on YouTube from his endless roadshow and there is a documentary out there based on this volume of essays/stories/adventures.
But I just took My Heart is an Idiot for what it is—good writing and great storytelling. I don’t know if telling these stories come naturally, but they sure feel that way. Rothbart’s hopeless romanticism is everywhere, whether it’s chasing skirts or thinking through the guilt or innocence of a man imprisoned for murder. He can fall in love on sight and doesn’t mind admitting it, over and over.
Two of my favorites are the last two in the volume. “The Strongest Man in the World” tells of Rothbart’s involvement and relationship with Byron Case, being held at a maximum-security state prison in Cameron, Missouri as part of a “uniquely steep” murder case. Here’s a sample of Rothbart’s inviting prose: “Picture me early this morning, driving up I-35 from Kansas City in a soft, warm rain. Byron’s mom, Evelyn, in the passenger seat of my van, telling energetic stories, and in the back, my brother Peter, listening in and looking out the window. It’s November, the week before Thanksgiving, and once we’re through the suburbs, the rain-soaked malls and Best Buys and Outback Steakhouses slide away, and dense patches of woods, filled with black, wet trees, their branches shaken free of leaves, rise up on the other side of the highway, beside vast empty fields of yellow wheat and dirt, and an occasional farmhouse or pair of sagging barn slumbering in the distance out on the rolling plains. Crows feasting on a roadkill deer halfway on the shoulder, halfway in the ditch, scatter as we rumble past, and I watch in the rearview mirror as they reconvene.” This tale is a sad one and those opening images set the tone beautifully.
“Ain’t That America” is a love story that revolves around a British girl named Anna. Anna was only twenty-five when they met, but also a friend of a friend “which earned me the chance to chat her up without any of the awkwardness of macking on a stranger.” There are talking in an L.A. bar and Rothbart is typically self-deprecating; he can’t believe his luck that Anna has locked onto him. This story / essay recounts Davy and Anna’s weekend trip to Joshua Tree in the desert of Southern California. They are together and then apart and, well, the end is all Hollywood and sunsets and choices. Beautiful.
There are three main set pieces to this collection. First, “Tarantula,” in which Rothbart finds a dead body in swimming pool in the backyard of a friend while he’s (oh, just read the book) and figures out how to deal with it, due to the circumstances. Second, “Ninety-Nine Bottles of Pee on the Wall,” in which Rothbart first fantasizes about how to humiliate a guy who runs a scam that exploits the hopes of would-be writers and then starts following through with the fantasy (and falling in love with a potential female cohort along the way). And “Shade,” in which Rothbart hopes against hope that a deep and thrilling virtual relationship might have some staying power in person. “Shade” gets downright harrowing—and heartbreaking. Again, the turns and arcs. Rothbart navigates by dream and fancy. He never hesitates to pull the trigger: let’s go.
In “New York, New York,” there’s a girl of course at the beginning and then one along the way and then, dashed hopes and, well, ain’t that America. It’s as good a 9-11 story as I’ve come across. More heartbreak. It’s clear Rothbart is happiest among the masses, crowded on a bus finding the humanity behind all those eyes. Self-indulgent in spots? I didn’t care. These stories encourage humans to reach out, in person, and look beyond the surface. His heart might be an idiot, or least susceptible to beauty, but his mind is hard at work and you might just find yourself a bit more willing to be the starter flake on your own human snowball.
That’s a good thing.
Um, wrong.
“Snowball” starts with a fairly factual opening statement: “On February 14, 200, I took the Greyhound bus from Detroit to Buffalo to visit a girl named Lauren Hill. Not Lauryn Hill the singer, who did that cover of ‘Killing Me Softly,’ but another Lauren Hill, who’d gone to my high school, and now, almost ten years later, was about to become my girlfriend, I hoped.”
I mean, that could be fiction. Reliable narrator and all that.
The cover of "My Heart is an Idiot" calls these stories “essays" and I'm not sure about that, either. Maybe just non-fiction stories.
With passion tattooed on his bicep for everyone to see, Davy Rothbart is the likable star and hero of his ever-changing world. Surely he’s literary three-way love child of Jack Kerouac, Studs Terkel and, I don’t know, Lord Byron.
If you think your life might be a bit too dull, a bit too routine, a bit too lockstep, "My Heart is an Idiot" will give you armchair travel time with a guy who follows the smallest urges and wispiest reasons to chase down offbeat dreams and stray questions. And women. Mostly, women. A stranger or two, maybe, but it would be a nice if all this being out there led to an introduction to a cool woman.
But like the action in “Human Snowball," Davy Rothbart gets bounced and whacked by the giant pinball flippers of life. Many of these stories start out being one thing and morph suddenly or slowly into something else.
For 14 years, Rothbart has been running Found magazine, which collects love letters, birthday cards, kids’ homework, to-do lists, ticket stubs, poetry on napkins, doodles (this is from their web site)—anything that gives a glimpse into someone else’s life. He’s also a contributor to “This American Life” on NPR and there’s a ton of videos on YouTube from his endless roadshow and there is a documentary out there based on this volume of essays/stories/adventures.
But I just took My Heart is an Idiot for what it is—good writing and great storytelling. I don’t know if telling these stories come naturally, but they sure feel that way. Rothbart’s hopeless romanticism is everywhere, whether it’s chasing skirts or thinking through the guilt or innocence of a man imprisoned for murder. He can fall in love on sight and doesn’t mind admitting it, over and over.
Two of my favorites are the last two in the volume. “The Strongest Man in the World” tells of Rothbart’s involvement and relationship with Byron Case, being held at a maximum-security state prison in Cameron, Missouri as part of a “uniquely steep” murder case. Here’s a sample of Rothbart’s inviting prose: “Picture me early this morning, driving up I-35 from Kansas City in a soft, warm rain. Byron’s mom, Evelyn, in the passenger seat of my van, telling energetic stories, and in the back, my brother Peter, listening in and looking out the window. It’s November, the week before Thanksgiving, and once we’re through the suburbs, the rain-soaked malls and Best Buys and Outback Steakhouses slide away, and dense patches of woods, filled with black, wet trees, their branches shaken free of leaves, rise up on the other side of the highway, beside vast empty fields of yellow wheat and dirt, and an occasional farmhouse or pair of sagging barn slumbering in the distance out on the rolling plains. Crows feasting on a roadkill deer halfway on the shoulder, halfway in the ditch, scatter as we rumble past, and I watch in the rearview mirror as they reconvene.” This tale is a sad one and those opening images set the tone beautifully.
“Ain’t That America” is a love story that revolves around a British girl named Anna. Anna was only twenty-five when they met, but also a friend of a friend “which earned me the chance to chat her up without any of the awkwardness of macking on a stranger.” There are talking in an L.A. bar and Rothbart is typically self-deprecating; he can’t believe his luck that Anna has locked onto him. This story / essay recounts Davy and Anna’s weekend trip to Joshua Tree in the desert of Southern California. They are together and then apart and, well, the end is all Hollywood and sunsets and choices. Beautiful.
There are three main set pieces to this collection. First, “Tarantula,” in which Rothbart finds a dead body in swimming pool in the backyard of a friend while he’s (oh, just read the book) and figures out how to deal with it, due to the circumstances. Second, “Ninety-Nine Bottles of Pee on the Wall,” in which Rothbart first fantasizes about how to humiliate a guy who runs a scam that exploits the hopes of would-be writers and then starts following through with the fantasy (and falling in love with a potential female cohort along the way). And “Shade,” in which Rothbart hopes against hope that a deep and thrilling virtual relationship might have some staying power in person. “Shade” gets downright harrowing—and heartbreaking. Again, the turns and arcs. Rothbart navigates by dream and fancy. He never hesitates to pull the trigger: let’s go.
In “New York, New York,” there’s a girl of course at the beginning and then one along the way and then, dashed hopes and, well, ain’t that America. It’s as good a 9-11 story as I’ve come across. More heartbreak. It’s clear Rothbart is happiest among the masses, crowded on a bus finding the humanity behind all those eyes. Self-indulgent in spots? I didn’t care. These stories encourage humans to reach out, in person, and look beyond the surface. His heart might be an idiot, or least susceptible to beauty, but his mind is hard at work and you might just find yourself a bit more willing to be the starter flake on your own human snowball.
That’s a good thing.
December 30, 2012
I enjoyed meeting Davy and hearing him read from his book at Nomad World Pub in Minneapolis. It was fun to read about his misadventures. He takes himself seriously and then sees the humor in his situation.
Throughout the book he makes some wise observations in Davy-talk. Here's one I like. This is about young Hakim's strong desire to go to Canada, where he thinks he will get away from his problems and begin a new life as a DJ:
"But what would happen once he reached Canada? Missy and I had talked about it for a bit after he'd first fallen asleep. It's appealing to imagine that if we can just get that one thing in our life to work out--if we can get the job we want, finish writing that book or making that movie, get the right girl or get to Canada--that everything will be solved, absolved, good to go for good. I slipped into that way of thinking way too often, I admitted to Missy, even though I knew that sometimes in life all of a sudden there you were--standing with your Technics turntables just across the Canadian border, and you're not a new you, you're just you, but in Canada."
Throughout the book he makes some wise observations in Davy-talk. Here's one I like. This is about young Hakim's strong desire to go to Canada, where he thinks he will get away from his problems and begin a new life as a DJ:
"But what would happen once he reached Canada? Missy and I had talked about it for a bit after he'd first fallen asleep. It's appealing to imagine that if we can just get that one thing in our life to work out--if we can get the job we want, finish writing that book or making that movie, get the right girl or get to Canada--that everything will be solved, absolved, good to go for good. I slipped into that way of thinking way too often, I admitted to Missy, even though I knew that sometimes in life all of a sudden there you were--standing with your Technics turntables just across the Canadian border, and you're not a new you, you're just you, but in Canada."
November 7, 2012
This book of autobiographical essays kept reminding me of the movie Beautiful Girls. Here's a quote, to give you an idea of his style: "A plume of merriment rose in my chest that was six parts the gentle glow of heading into any bar on a cold, snowy night and four parts the wonderful, unpredictable madness of having a hundred-and-ten-year-old man I'd just met on the Greyhound bus as my wingman."
I love anyone who can make everyday life seem like an exciting joyride. The essay Human Snowball is the best thing I've read all year.
I love anyone who can make everyday life seem like an exciting joyride. The essay Human Snowball is the best thing I've read all year.
August 27, 2016
Davy Rothbart is a creepy asshole. I mean, if these essays are true, which they purport to be, then he is just that guy at a party who likes to tell long rambling stories about boring non-events that almost happened, girls he tried to hit on but weren't interested, or stupid situations he got himself into and that only he finds amusing. I was rooting for every female he came in contact with throughout the book to run away screaming as fast as they could--which most of them seem to have done. Why would you show up unannounced to profess love to someone you hardly know? Why would you go out on something you're assuming is a date if you've never actually mentioned that you might have romantic feelings for the woman, and then be surprised when she's creeped out? This book is not about romance, no matter what he calls it.
I kept reading, hoping that there was a point of redemption, but it just kept getting worse. I read most of the book with a disgusted, disbelieving look on my face, and eventually gave up, two-thirds of the way through. It was the essay about Shade that did me in, because it was the point where it became painfully obvious that the entire book is a weird exercise in emotional masturbation. I realize that self-deprecation is a form of humor, but the strangest thing about this book is that as unlikable a person as he has painted himself into, he seems to think there is something triumphant about these boring escapades.
I suppose the only redeeming factor is that at least he never paints the women he's interested in as anything more than his own failure at what he has deluded himself into thinking is romance; though the fact he doesn't seem to have crossed the line into complete misogyny is a pretty thin silver lining.
I kept reading, hoping that there was a point of redemption, but it just kept getting worse. I read most of the book with a disgusted, disbelieving look on my face, and eventually gave up, two-thirds of the way through. It was the essay about Shade that did me in, because it was the point where it became painfully obvious that the entire book is a weird exercise in emotional masturbation. I realize that self-deprecation is a form of humor, but the strangest thing about this book is that as unlikable a person as he has painted himself into, he seems to think there is something triumphant about these boring escapades.
I suppose the only redeeming factor is that at least he never paints the women he's interested in as anything more than his own failure at what he has deluded himself into thinking is romance; though the fact he doesn't seem to have crossed the line into complete misogyny is a pretty thin silver lining.
December 12, 2012
I won this as a Goodreads First Read. Good thing, as I have to say I'm not overly impressed with Rothbart. Oh, his writing isn't bad at all; he's quite good at setting the scene, describing the events, etc. But these essays come off as the whining, "life owes me" plaints of a 30-something hipster. Everything comes across as larger than life, with Rothbart creating a persona that I, quite frankly, didn't enjoy.
The author keeps talking about his pitiful love life, and yet, in "Shade", he writes about the various girls he's dated in an attempt to find someone that matches his "dream girl" - Shade, a character in the movie Gas, Food, Lodging. Wow, no pressure for these girls, huh? Of course he's unsuccessful in his quest - she's a fictional character!
The only piece that I felt the slightest connection to was "New York, New York", a wonderful bit of writing about the author traveling across the country to New York City to see the aftermath of the 9/11 attacks on the World Trade Center. My guess is that this voice is the real Davy Rothbart, and this guy, I like. I just wish he'd shown up in more of the collected essays.
The author keeps talking about his pitiful love life, and yet, in "Shade", he writes about the various girls he's dated in an attempt to find someone that matches his "dream girl" - Shade, a character in the movie Gas, Food, Lodging. Wow, no pressure for these girls, huh? Of course he's unsuccessful in his quest - she's a fictional character!
The only piece that I felt the slightest connection to was "New York, New York", a wonderful bit of writing about the author traveling across the country to New York City to see the aftermath of the 9/11 attacks on the World Trade Center. My guess is that this voice is the real Davy Rothbart, and this guy, I like. I just wish he'd shown up in more of the collected essays.
February 20, 2013
I really enjoyed this collection of essays. As a longtime fan of Found magazine, I feel like I always have to check out Davy's work when I come across it. Some of these stories seem a bit farfetched, and I feel like some may have been greatly exaggerated at points- here and there, he acknowledges this by saying "I am not making this up"- which makes me feel like he may have embellished on some of the other details. Even still, the essays are great fun to read for anyone who enjoys fun essay collections, road trip stories and colorful portraits of American life. My favorite by far was "99 Bottles of Pee on the Wall," in which a laid up Davy mails multiple packages of pee bottles to his archenemy, a shyster running a literary contest which takes advantage of unpublished or new authors. At times I wished I could tag along with Davy on some of his adventures, as he seems to live this great big life unencumbered by the limitations most of us seem to see all around us.
I loved this collection of stories and was pleasantly surprised by how great it was. Not for everyone, but if this is your cup of tea, you'll probably get into it big time.
I loved this collection of stories and was pleasantly surprised by how great it was. Not for everyone, but if this is your cup of tea, you'll probably get into it big time.
April 6, 2013
Davy, Davy. We have the lab test results back, and the prognosis is not good. The idiocy appears to be spreading. It's no longer strictly a cardiovascular situation.
This collection of essays by Found magazine and website originator and sometime This American Life (NPR) contributor Davy Rothbart shoots for poignancy and heartache, but typically gets derailed...well, by idiocy. At best, his voice comes across clouded in sap-soaked puppy love ("Ain't That America") and at worst, he's a cringe-inducing shallow cad ("Shade"). Overall, our essayist comes across as not a very likable guy.
"The Strongest Man in the World" feels out of place in this collection, and easily stands out as the best of the bunch. It proves that Davy can write, provided he keeps the romantic side of his heart in check.
June 18, 2020
Read this looking for a light & funny read. It definitely has its laugh-out-loud moments; it also has a lot of subtle misogyny (women viewed solely as love interests & plot devices) & is dripping with white privilege, which, I just don’t want to engage with at this moment in time/history, you know? Funny stories but I kept thinking about how a black person would never survive the “quirky!” and “crazy!” experiences Davy describes.
February 4, 2020
really loved this one. captivating stories, sweet moments... highly recommend !
May 31, 2017
Immensely readable, enjoyable writing style, and the author has no trouble outing his very human behavior.
January 9, 2015
I have enjoyed listening to Davy Rothbart's performances in bars singing Bus or Beer with his brother, in old theatres doing Found vs. Found Footage Festival battles with Nick Prueher and Joe Pickett, and over the radio on This American Life. So, it follows that I'd be interested in this book. I downloaded this audio book for a family vacation but never got around to listening to it, now finally, in a marathon of listening got through it in one listless day with my retired parents. I know, I'm pretty cool, right?
Though I was occasionally frustrated by Davy's constant state of search for the perfect girl, I can somewhat understand it. Everything is always better in one's imagination, so though as a girl I hate it when I'm held as some mysterious creature (when all I'm really thinking about is my next meal), I can also relate to Rothbart's search for the exact person/thing/etc. that's going to make everything right. As he points out in one story where he meets a young man intent on moving to Canada...
"But what would happen once he reached Canada? Missy and I had talked about it for a bit after he'd first fallen asleep. It's appealing to imagine that if we can just get that one thing in our life to work out--if we can get the job we want, finish writing that book or making that movie, get the right girl or get to Canada--that everything will be solved, absolved, good to go for good. I slipped into that way of thinking way too often, I admitted to Missy, even though I knew that sometimes in life all of a sudden there you were--standing with your Technics turntables just across the Canadian border, and you're not a new you, you're just you, but in Canada."
Probably my favorite paragraph through the whole book. Rothbart's truthful enough to recognize in himself the tendency to desire some unrealistic ideal, which is much better suited to unrequited crushes on girls he barely knows or who shut him out than the affections of girls who open their arms and invite him in. I think, though many people would deny it, we all have these tendencies to drop what's known, what is already ours, for what's behind mysterious door #2. Who knows, maybe whatever lies behind that door is the thing that realizes everything we've ever wanted and we'll be "good to go for good."
There were times when we'd laugh out loud, but also many long stretches where no one uttered a sound, we were just focused on hearing the story and caught up in our own thoughts, whatever those might be. I think we were all amazed by Rothbart's life, the many characters he meets and often bizarre situations he finds himself trying to work his way out of with some even more complicated scheme bound to land him in even weirder locales. I'm just glad that he took us along for the ride.
Though I was occasionally frustrated by Davy's constant state of search for the perfect girl, I can somewhat understand it. Everything is always better in one's imagination, so though as a girl I hate it when I'm held as some mysterious creature (when all I'm really thinking about is my next meal), I can also relate to Rothbart's search for the exact person/thing/etc. that's going to make everything right. As he points out in one story where he meets a young man intent on moving to Canada...
"But what would happen once he reached Canada? Missy and I had talked about it for a bit after he'd first fallen asleep. It's appealing to imagine that if we can just get that one thing in our life to work out--if we can get the job we want, finish writing that book or making that movie, get the right girl or get to Canada--that everything will be solved, absolved, good to go for good. I slipped into that way of thinking way too often, I admitted to Missy, even though I knew that sometimes in life all of a sudden there you were--standing with your Technics turntables just across the Canadian border, and you're not a new you, you're just you, but in Canada."
Probably my favorite paragraph through the whole book. Rothbart's truthful enough to recognize in himself the tendency to desire some unrealistic ideal, which is much better suited to unrequited crushes on girls he barely knows or who shut him out than the affections of girls who open their arms and invite him in. I think, though many people would deny it, we all have these tendencies to drop what's known, what is already ours, for what's behind mysterious door #2. Who knows, maybe whatever lies behind that door is the thing that realizes everything we've ever wanted and we'll be "good to go for good."
There were times when we'd laugh out loud, but also many long stretches where no one uttered a sound, we were just focused on hearing the story and caught up in our own thoughts, whatever those might be. I think we were all amazed by Rothbart's life, the many characters he meets and often bizarre situations he finds himself trying to work his way out of with some even more complicated scheme bound to land him in even weirder locales. I'm just glad that he took us along for the ride.
October 1, 2013
A lovely friend of mine sent me this book with a "you may be able to relate" sentiment. And so I started this book, impressed with the author's NPR connections (longtime a fan of this American life and Wait Wait....Don't tell Me) and expecting some sort of insight on life and love and the pursuit of happiness as it were.
The book is 16 short stories, or rather true life stories, gleaned from Mr. Rothbart's (admittedly) interesting life. Not all are centered around his pursuit of romantic love, though each vignette is usually prompted by some action taken for a woman.
It is always hard to review a book that is someone laying open their own soul or experiences. Those are their experiences, who am I to review their life? But well this is my first book after a couple months off and I love being part of the Goodreads community so I find myself writing a review with the caveat that this is the kind of book you just have to take as is. It's a lengthy bar conversation with a stranger, an evening of entertainment that may speak to you on a personal level or have no relevance to your life whatsoever.
At the beginning of this book I wanted to buy this guy a beer. By the end of this book I just wanted him, and his simultaneously self-deprecating and grandiose delusions, to disappear. The turning point from interesting to "ohhh yea, I know this kind of guy" happened in a wonderfully written chapter titled Shade. Perhaps it cut to close to the bone and with no guise of "fiction" to soften its blow I found myself rolling my eyes with every flip of the page and thinking, "really...come on. Grow a pair." BUT it was good writing, because I continued to read non-stop from that chapter to the end of the book.
My second favorite chapter was Tarantula...the situation this guy gets into are insane! But again, I felt myself rolling my eyes at Mr. Rothbart's attitude of "I'm baring my sins and recognize them....so aren't I heroic and lovable even though my actions are abhorrent?" Nah...you are still just a douche chasing after pretty girls, though you can be intellectual and interesting at times.
I would have actually liked this book a lot more if he had ditched the relationship side to it and just told his stories of being on the road. His voice was most honest and relatable in chapters such as New York, New York where a woman was the set-up, not the subject. I know I would have liked him a lot more had I not had to read about him lamenting the fact that his current date wouldn't permit him to hit on the pretty Subway girl. Always the "pretty" girls with this guy. Every description starts with some waifish sad girl that is beautiful and he immediately falls for. It grows tedious, and by the end you just kind of go, "Meh...he's in love with infatuation. Got it. Next."
Conclusion: Liked it, didn't love it. Wouldn't hurt to read it when you want an unchallenging read to kill some time, such as on a long flight.
The book is 16 short stories, or rather true life stories, gleaned from Mr. Rothbart's (admittedly) interesting life. Not all are centered around his pursuit of romantic love, though each vignette is usually prompted by some action taken for a woman.
It is always hard to review a book that is someone laying open their own soul or experiences. Those are their experiences, who am I to review their life? But well this is my first book after a couple months off and I love being part of the Goodreads community so I find myself writing a review with the caveat that this is the kind of book you just have to take as is. It's a lengthy bar conversation with a stranger, an evening of entertainment that may speak to you on a personal level or have no relevance to your life whatsoever.
At the beginning of this book I wanted to buy this guy a beer. By the end of this book I just wanted him, and his simultaneously self-deprecating and grandiose delusions, to disappear. The turning point from interesting to "ohhh yea, I know this kind of guy" happened in a wonderfully written chapter titled Shade. Perhaps it cut to close to the bone and with no guise of "fiction" to soften its blow I found myself rolling my eyes with every flip of the page and thinking, "really...come on. Grow a pair." BUT it was good writing, because I continued to read non-stop from that chapter to the end of the book.
My second favorite chapter was Tarantula...the situation this guy gets into are insane! But again, I felt myself rolling my eyes at Mr. Rothbart's attitude of "I'm baring my sins and recognize them....so aren't I heroic and lovable even though my actions are abhorrent?" Nah...you are still just a douche chasing after pretty girls, though you can be intellectual and interesting at times.
I would have actually liked this book a lot more if he had ditched the relationship side to it and just told his stories of being on the road. His voice was most honest and relatable in chapters such as New York, New York where a woman was the set-up, not the subject. I know I would have liked him a lot more had I not had to read about him lamenting the fact that his current date wouldn't permit him to hit on the pretty Subway girl. Always the "pretty" girls with this guy. Every description starts with some waifish sad girl that is beautiful and he immediately falls for. It grows tedious, and by the end you just kind of go, "Meh...he's in love with infatuation. Got it. Next."
Conclusion: Liked it, didn't love it. Wouldn't hurt to read it when you want an unchallenging read to kill some time, such as on a long flight.
February 6, 2013
Davy Rothbart falls in love with everyone he meets. Though most of the essays in My Heart is an Idiot include his propensity towards broken-hearted longing and the chase of some fleeting hope for romantic love, he seems just as enchanted by strangers he meets on buses, in bars, and through happenstance. The greatest strength of these stories is that Davy's interest in the secret heart of other people's lives, regardless of race, class, or pretty much anything else, shines through them.
I appreciated Davy's unflinching honesty and emotional vulnerability, and overall found the volume to be both heartfelt and hilarious, with enough darkness to satisfy my inner edge. I do have some questions about how true all of the details of all of the stories are, especially because so many of them involve him lying, but regardless of that, there's an emotional honesty within them that is resonant and real. The tone is so intimate that I almost felt as though I was reading letters from a penpal, and indeed, a lot of Davy's stories are similar to my own, so that reading them felt sort of like being crunched up in a corner with someone at a crowded living room party, feeling flushed, laughing, flirting, trading stories. It's refreshing to read a book written in voice of someone who could easily be someone I know, someone I slept with a few times but of course it didn't work out, someone who I keep in touch with and have a fondness for. And probably falsely, perhaps even dangerously, I can't shake the feeling that I now know Davy Rothbart. I've created a hybridized mish-mash portrait of him amalgamated from his essays and the combined traits of several men I've dated.
I recommend this book to folks who love an adventure, fall in love with strangers, and are always seeking magic in the everyday. I laughed out loud more times than I can count, finished it in 24 hours, and brought it back to the library right away so someone else could enjoy it. Haters gonna hate, but I feel like Davy beautifully captures the essence of America through the eyes of a post-modern drifter and seeker.
I appreciated Davy's unflinching honesty and emotional vulnerability, and overall found the volume to be both heartfelt and hilarious, with enough darkness to satisfy my inner edge. I do have some questions about how true all of the details of all of the stories are, especially because so many of them involve him lying, but regardless of that, there's an emotional honesty within them that is resonant and real. The tone is so intimate that I almost felt as though I was reading letters from a penpal, and indeed, a lot of Davy's stories are similar to my own, so that reading them felt sort of like being crunched up in a corner with someone at a crowded living room party, feeling flushed, laughing, flirting, trading stories. It's refreshing to read a book written in voice of someone who could easily be someone I know, someone I slept with a few times but of course it didn't work out, someone who I keep in touch with and have a fondness for. And probably falsely, perhaps even dangerously, I can't shake the feeling that I now know Davy Rothbart. I've created a hybridized mish-mash portrait of him amalgamated from his essays and the combined traits of several men I've dated.
I recommend this book to folks who love an adventure, fall in love with strangers, and are always seeking magic in the everyday. I laughed out loud more times than I can count, finished it in 24 hours, and brought it back to the library right away so someone else could enjoy it. Haters gonna hate, but I feel like Davy beautifully captures the essence of America through the eyes of a post-modern drifter and seeker.
June 12, 2014
I picked up a proof of this in a charity shop whilst I was in New York. I've been in a reading slump but was drawn to this by the cover and the short "essays"/stories. Whilst I was reading the book I really enjoyed it, it was nice just to be enjoying reading again. I am glad someone else has pointed out in other reviews, however, that most of his "lost love" stories come off a bit misogynistic. He works through probably about 25 girls through the course of the book, all of whom he idealises and is then disappointed by in some way (through no fault of their own). He constantly is drawn to girls in which he says "sadness" or "darkness". This makes me uncomfortable. But it doesn't seem intentional, I guess. I warm to him a bit throughout the book but the better essays are those where he isn't chasing some sad mysterious girl. Anyway, it was cool to be reading properly again and I am also interested in getting a couple of copies of Rothbarts Found magazine.
January 31, 2015
I've got to admit, I didn't get quite what I was hoping for from this book. I was looking for a transcendent moment, a bit of catharsis in which the author explained the frailty of humanity, ie why we're all morons, especially in matters of the heart. This didn't happen for one very good reason: this is a book about life and in life, real life, that **** doesn't happen. What did happen was a very good selection of moments from a guy's life, moments of heartbreak and joy and the idiotic genius inspired by one too many drinks. I'm kinda glad I'm not Davy but I can surely recognize in my own love life the pain that comes from the crushing realization that the ones you've loved have largely been figments of your imagination built upon a very real person who could never live up to that ideal.
March 25, 2025
I read this over a decade ago and it was a five star read, and I thought, I can’t remember this book at all and Past Bonnie had pretty good taste, but no, sadly, Past Bonnie sometimes loved things that Present Bonnie doesn’t really get.
A book of fun essays by an emotionally immature guy who has crazy adventures and doesn’t read women very well and makes questionable decisions.
My favorite essay was about Rothbart trying to stop a scam writers conference by anonymously sending the organizer bottles of his urine. If this premise is intriguing, I highly recommend this book.
He also writes about 9/11 and strangely, the story of a young man he knew that got sentenced to life imprisonment for a crime he didn’t commit. It sounded more like a dead serious podcast and less part of a book of funny vignettes about the author’s life.
A book of fun essays by an emotionally immature guy who has crazy adventures and doesn’t read women very well and makes questionable decisions.
My favorite essay was about Rothbart trying to stop a scam writers conference by anonymously sending the organizer bottles of his urine. If this premise is intriguing, I highly recommend this book.
He also writes about 9/11 and strangely, the story of a young man he knew that got sentenced to life imprisonment for a crime he didn’t commit. It sounded more like a dead serious podcast and less part of a book of funny vignettes about the author’s life.
October 8, 2012
I hope he isn't another James Frey...I want to believe people's "true" stories. OR I want them to say, "based on true events" or "mostly true".
My only other pet peeve...what's up with the misuse of "me" versus "I"? I get that it's a local dialecty kind of thing...But Rothbart is too quick and too smart to let that pass in the written version of these stories page after page. It discredits him in that it seems an attempt to keep some sort of "street cred". It comes off as too self-conscious.
But overall...this is a collection of strong pieces with a strong driving voice. Engrossing and enjoyable.
My only other pet peeve...what's up with the misuse of "me" versus "I"? I get that it's a local dialecty kind of thing...But Rothbart is too quick and too smart to let that pass in the written version of these stories page after page. It discredits him in that it seems an attempt to keep some sort of "street cred". It comes off as too self-conscious.
But overall...this is a collection of strong pieces with a strong driving voice. Engrossing and enjoyable.
June 17, 2013
To be honest, I didn't expect to like this book. I picked it up on a whim because my boyfriend thought it looked funny. It was only after running out of decent reading material that I gave this book a shot.
I couldn't put this book down.
Davy's stories were compelling from the very first page. And they kept getting better and better. His adventures are enthralling, heartbreaking, funny, and brutally honest. I laughed the entire time I was reading this, but there is an underlying sadness in the stories. At some points, Davy's adventures are absolutely unbelievable, but I liked them all the more for it. I enjoyed this book immensely, and I wish I could find more books like this one.
I couldn't put this book down.
Davy's stories were compelling from the very first page. And they kept getting better and better. His adventures are enthralling, heartbreaking, funny, and brutally honest. I laughed the entire time I was reading this, but there is an underlying sadness in the stories. At some points, Davy's adventures are absolutely unbelievable, but I liked them all the more for it. I enjoyed this book immensely, and I wish I could find more books like this one.
July 25, 2016
Started off fairly disinterested - the author's voice seemed disingenuous to me. However, as I came to discover this is just what he does. He wanders over the country and sincerely attempts to fall into souldeep love with every woman he encounters. Even the essay re: Byron is about him falling in love with this story and the absent couple. There were few questions, and he's not trying to find an answer to anything (unlike other books of essays).
He made me nauseous with the bottles of pee story. He made me laugh with the deaf mom story. He made me laugh with the Grand Canyon story. And he made me cry with 9/11.
He made me nauseous with the bottles of pee story. He made me laugh with the deaf mom story. He made me laugh with the Grand Canyon story. And he made me cry with 9/11.
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