Here is a refreshing look at life as it ought to be. Bare feet, gardening, dawdling over the newspaper, oversleeping, and idle summer vacations are infinitely more satisfying than counting fat grams, eating only vegetables, and sitting behind that desk every day. So toss out the guilt and rebel. Don't just stop and smell the flowers--call in sick and lie among them, preferably with a good friend, a bottle of wine, and a handful of chocolates. Endangered Pleasures is a delightful reminder that rest and relaxation are more rewarding than a job performance review. After all, life's too short. Why not have some fun while you're supposed to be living it?
Barbara Murray Holland was an American author who wrote in defense of such modern-day vices as cursing, drinking, eating fatty food and smoking cigarettes, as well as a memoir of her time spent growing up in Chevy Chase, Maryland, near Washington, D.C.
4.5 stars. I adore this book, and it is totally the book I would write, if I could, you know, write books. I've always recognized in myself a deep hedonistic streak, not so much in the "snorting coke off strippers at an orgy" image that that that word conjures up, but as far as seeking and appreciating pleasure from small everyday things--a fresh peach, an afternoon spent laying on a hammock reading, the smell of fresh cut grass--sensual experiences, in the non-sexual meaning of that word--and seeing some intrinstic good in that pleasure. So yeah, philosophically, this book is right up my alley. And the writing is gorgeously sensual (there's that word again...I can't seem to write this review without making it sound all Cinemax After Dark). I didn't agree with all the supposed pleasures; I'm too much of a homebody at heart to get much pleasure from being someone's houseguest or being out in a crowd, and I see nothing appealing in gambling. And there is certainly a strain of a certain kind of political conservativism running throughout that was at times difficult to square with my personal politics. Here on goodreads, the first book listed as one that others who like this one have also liked is called Nanny State: How Food Fascists, Teetotaling Do-Gooders, Priggish Moralists, and other Boneheaded Bureaucrats are Turning America into a Nation of Children. Yeah, I won't likely be reading THAT one, but this one is a beautifully written treatise for those who share the philosophy that joy is good for you.
What a delight! At first I was put off by the somewhat haughty tone to her writing, but it quickly evolved into a wry and clever style that was perfectly suited to the lyric of the book. Each indulgence is covered in a short essay so you can read this in brief sittings without missing a beat. The treasure in this is the reminder that the seemingly "little" things in life - bare feet, working, clothes, weekends, happy hour - are true gifts if we are attentive to and relish in the nuances. Absolute fun little romp of a book. I usually pass books along when I am done with them but might have to hang onto this one so I can revisit the occasional topic just to lift my day.
A book of short essays where the subtitle is the perfect description: "In defense of naps, bacon, martinis, profanity, and other indulgences".
I've never smoked and don't intend to ever smoke, but her essay on cigarettes makes me understand why so many find it appealing. Holland can turn a phrase beautifully and these essays read like a good friend talking to you late into the night over a glass of something convivial.
The most interesting thing about this book is that is shows how nostalgia really works. Namely, it's thinking things were better 'before' no matter when that was. This book is from the 1990s, which the author viewed as unbearably busy and work-oriented. Ironically I look back on the 90s as a time of carefree glee, when people used to write essays about simple pleasures.
Still, Holland makes some excellent points about enjoying the little things in life, even if her sections on travel were written before the founding of TSA. And I'm sure when my son is grown I'll tell him all about how I used this quaint thing called the internet to write reviews of books that were printed on actual paper.
Barbara Holland just died. Look up her obit in the Washington Post for Sunday 19 Sep 2010. She was a true rowdy girl. She lived not far from me, and I met her once. Her book Bingo Night at the Firehall is about the way my Virginia county used to be. Most of her books, at least the later ones, are a big Remembrance of things past, and she was right about a lot of them, but her indulgences sure made life difficult for her. I'm sorry she's gone.
I'd been looking forward to this one for a while, but it was a let down. I thought Holland's tone was dull and even a bit condescending (though that may have been a point, I think the book had much more potential). Likewise, Holland suffers from Oldenburg disease: longing for something long gone and romanticizing the woman-in-the-kitchen trope.
My wife wanted to buy this book for a friend and we got a copy, too. I read it over my wife's shoulder on a plane trip and found it mildly amusing. But no more than that. It really seems aimed at women. So don't think I'll get back to this . . . ever.
Such a fun read - short essays on things we deny ourselves these days, like a good nap, bacon, bare feet, the morning paper and the second cup of coffee. An indulgence just to read!
In 1995 Barbara Holland felt our lives were too hurried, too focused on the latest food fads & totally devoid of the things that give us joy. She suggested we should indulge ourselves instead in more "endangered pleasures": cigarette smoking, day drinking, buying things, driving w/o seatbelts & other "indulgences" that she argued would put more joy in our frazzled lives. Her ideal breakfast: "a glass of cold champagne & a perfectly ripe pear, perhaps w/ a spoonful of caviar eaten straight from the jar," after which she said we should go back to bed. Holland, married & divorced 3 times and dead at 72 from lung cancer, is not someone I'd want to emulate. I found her ideas maniacal, & her writing style kept her at arms' length from readers...as if we should idolize her because of her wit, her turn of phrase, & her exceptional wisdom on things we can't possibly understand...because we are not her, & we do not live in her rarified air. I found very little to like about this book. My life is filled w/ joy everyday, not because of people, places or things...but because I am above ground, still.
This series of essays was both humorous and thought provoking and although the book was written in 1995 and the world is much changed it is still relevant. You can nod in agreement or shake your head in semi horror and you can feel self congratulatory and pat yourself on the back. Barbara Holland, three times married and divorced and dead at 72 from lung cancer (see the endangered of pleasure of cigarettes chapter) may not be someone you want to emulate but you will find yourself appreciating her observations all the same. I wonder what she would have thought of the electronic, always connected social media age we live in now. Well, actually I think I know but I would love to be able to read her insightful, witty thoughts. So, enjoy the little things and maybe some of the things that you suspect you should not enjoy and do not feel guilty!
I purchased this book at "Politics and Prose" in DC many years ago. It took me nearly 14 years to finish this 175-page tribute to things that give us pleasure. Well . . . . I didn't read it all at once. I read a chapter here and there. It is a nightstand book that I keep handy for when I need some happy reading. My very favorite sections were "Weekends" and "Talking". I had a few ideas of my own that I would add if I were writing such a book, like "Playing Cards" or "Doing Jigsaw/Crossword Puzzles". In "Spending the Summer", I underlined, "idleness, once a summer perk, has become a social sin . . . ". One endangered pleasure is luxuriating over a book such as this.
I read this delightful book of essays perhaps 15 years ago - and when I recently found it on my bookshelf, decided that the pandemic was the perfect time to reread it. WOW. I found myself reading only one short essay at a time - how hard it is to put down a truly wonderful piece of writing - but did that to enjoy thinking about what she had written as well as to postpone finishing the book. What a wonderful writer Barbara was. I'll have to revisit her others.
Cool little well-written and thought-out essays on a variety of aspects of life. Oh, on profanity, overuse dulls the meanings of certain words - so use them when most important rather than regularly. She's a fan of Christmas, bring back all 12 days and simply celebrate, whether secular or religious. Naps have become alas underrated in today's times. She also celebrates dogs and cats, but alas gives short shrift to Autumn as she only sees it as the interlude before Winter.
I reccommend this book. Although written in 1995, it is absolutely spot on. Short stories on differing topics that were once a simply enjoyed simple pleasure, now eroded away or altered in such a way that it is no longer pleasurable. Due to the numerous topics in which the author opines, it is a terrific book to carry around whereby one doesn't have big chunks of time to read a book. Seek it out and pick it up. You will enjoy.
I loved the premise, I loved each individual essay, and I would love to buy it to keep around and flip open when I’m at a creative stalemate to feel good about something tiny in life. But, I don’t feel like it’s a book-book; the essays are so short. I would love to see this repackaged in a beautiful cover.
Disappointing. Sounded it like it would be a fun romp through different pleasures, discussing how to best enjoy them and include them in your life. Instead it was a cynical and sarcastic look at why these things are no longer as pleasurable. No solutions, no advice, just laments, and occasionally even depressing. Ironically, the book wasn't very pleasurable!
One short essay after another full of delightful turns of phrase, recognizable (a-HA!) moments, and things-I-would-love-to-do. Naps, seasonal food, gardening, visiting, going to work, staying home from work, spring, summer, winter, cigarettes... the author finds delight in these and many other things that make readers shout "Yes!" Dip yourself into this stew of pleasure, one bit at a time.
I've read two other of her books that I liked better. This was just short essays on different topics which was okay. I just didn't think they were as humorous as some of her other writing.
Endangered Pleasures, I will admit, has been the bathroom book for the past few months. As such it is a little warped by humidity, but Harpers hardly printed it on fine paper to begin with. The book's title and small chapters (1-4 pages, perfect for the bathroom) appealed, as did the author's choice of subjects from working to bed to books, but at first her sophistication overwhelmed the tone for me. She began as the seeming urban hipster, but by the end she had settled into rural and family life in a way that appealed a great deal more. Her background and sensibilities are not mine, but enough of the values overlap that her humor and thoughtful turn on the world made for a pleasant three to five minutes. The book begins with waking up, "Obviously the best possible time to wake up is in the June of our tenth year, on the first day of summer vacation." On work and home. "At home, especially with a family around us, anything can happen and all of it's our responsibility." "On the job, we know what we're supposed to be doing at any given moment. At home we rarely do, and if we did, there's still no way to organize the priorities." Another chapter begins, "recreational talking is, along with private singing, one of our saddest recent losses. Like singing, talking has become a job for trained professionals, who are paid considerable sums of money to do it on television and radio while we sit silently listening...." Finally on bad words: "We ought to get up a committee in protest the increasing use of obscene language in movies and on radio and cable television. This a wholly deplorable trend, blunting the ordinary civilian's illicit joy in using these words himself." A pleasure, in small doses, and not at all a guilty one.
Nice. It's not deep, it's not difficult, it's just... pleasant. The kind of book you want to have handy to peek into when you have a few moments to spare, and want to fill them happily.
Ms. Holland's list of pleasures is delightfully eclectic, ranging from bacon through whistling, undressing, Bad Words. Some of them are already your favorites and some will remind you of the little things in life that you cherish.
A sample quote that makes me smile whenever I encounter it:
"To my way of thinking, the perfect breakfast is probably a glass of cold champagne and a perfectly ripe pear, perhaps with a spoonful of caviar eaten straight from the jar. This should be served with sunlight spreading across the table, or, better, outdoors on a balcony or flagstone patio, in the company of a single well-behaved honeybee and someone with whom you're madly in love. "When you've finished the champagne, it's correct to go back, holding hands, to bed. "This doesn't happen often. Still, it's a vision to hold and savor in the mind while we spoon up the Cheerios..."
Ah, there's that other pleasure to add to the list: imaginary joys.
Vintage Holland. Each compact piece, no more than a few pages in length, is a humorous defense of (mostly) things that are no longer considered good for us or non-PC, but there are essays on overlooked simple pleasures of everyday life as well, such as getting mail or walking barefoot. Barbara Holland has long been one of my favorite essayists, and here she's at the top of her form.
One of the most charming aspects of the book is that it plays devil's advocate, arguing both sides of seemingly contradictory pleasures: 'going out' vs. 'staying in', or 'buying things' vs. 'saving money.' Holland sings the praises of life's simple moments. You needn't have money or fame, she seems to be saying, to rejoice in the pleasures life offers us every day. Happily, however, as I'm 'sentiment impaired,' Holland never even tries to keep her inner curmudgeon in check.
Light and fun and a bit off the beaten path type reading but very much enjoyed these little treatises on fading pleasures, recently banished for the PC or the good health or the whatever reason. How could I resist when those items heading the title list were NAPS, BACON and MARTINIS (of which I have yet to sample my first -- it may NEVER happen to be honest -- what can I say? that's the way the cookies crumble). And then of course the tag along in the title -- profanity -- -- that one had had some recent practice when ipicked up this tome -- related to the previously touted leading title pleasures of naps, bacon and martinis. It's complicated. But trust me given the mood in which I found this and read it -- it delivered -- big time.
If you like quirky and humorous -- you might enjoy it. For me it was very therapeutic as well which isn't a bad bonus at all, at all.
Awaken your inner hedonist and allow yourself the indulgence of reading this book.
Bed
"As a reward for getting out of it in the morning, we're allowed to get back into bed at night; get gloriously horizontal again, after the vertical day spent carrying our bones around by ourselves."
Bare feet
"Bare feet are acceptable nowhere but on beaches, where we can't be expected to accomplish anything...Maybe the whole world secretly understands that free feet produce a different, more philosophical, relaxed and unbusinesslike mindset. Without shoes, our ambitions would fade away, wolfish trade practices seem too much trouble, international frictions look foolish. Armies would curl up and take a nap. Nobody would get any serious work done and the world would go straight to hell."
For those of you who are Pleasure Seekers...(like me). ;)
I was intrigued by the title of this book so I had to get it. I needed to learn about endangered pleasures that I may not be participating in. I was reminded of the pleasures of taking naps & sleeping 'totally' undressed (without constraints) & traveling & barefeet & natural things like birds singing. It was a nice book with some worthwhile lines & PLEASURES 'to live by'. I'm just happy to know that I've been living by the book so far. Life can be a pleasure. If it's not for you...get this book.
A series of essays detailing, one by one, all the things that grownups used to enjoy but have convinced themselves to let go of during the last decade or three. Until I read this book, the differences between how we live now and how we lived then never seemed so immense. I suppose it's because it's all happened so gradually. It's hard to imagine anyone reading this book and not feeling shame at what we've let ourselves be led into, and the price we've all paid.
This book is meant to be read in short bursts, a chapter or two a day. Holland has an amazing way with words, it's worth reading just for that. But it's also her grounded "look on the bright side" perspective that will add a little lift to the day and may make you rethink things like work, winter and even waking up early. A little at a time, though, otherwise it gets a bit tiring.
Overall, instead of feeling like a forced smile, she comes across as a knowing grin.
This is a book I take off the shelf several times a year, for a nice leisurely thumbing. It's full of essays on the merits of going naked, the taking naps, and pretty mush all the stuff I love to do. I love the case she makes for the necessity of the occasional swear word. Barbara Holland and I could be friends, and you will probably think she'd make a great friend too, after reading this delightful book.
I bought this for the title alone. Unfortunately, the contents didn't live up to my expectations. "In defense of..." led me to believe it would delve more deeply into why these pleasures are justified and how our American culture (mistakenly!) shuns them in the name of productivity. Instead of defending these lost pleasures, the author simply provides short essays about each and how things used to be.