Rarely do I regret buying a book to read, but I regret this one. I hoped for a biography of Erma Bombeck, but instead got a text that reads like an extended magazine profile. The author describes some of The tools Bombeck may have used, and references some other columnists and comics who may have influenced her. Mind you, these aren't necessarily her tools an influences, so I'm unsure why the author included them. The whole thing comes across as a somewhat lazy masters thesis. I couldn't even get through the whole thing.
I was hoping for a behind-the-scenes look at the life of a very witty woman who greatly influenced my idea of humour; instead I got a repetitive mish-mash of paragraphs thrown together under careless chapter headings like a tossed salad made from her book reviews. No wonder it was on the giveaway table at the library. I only finished it out of respect for Erma Bombeck (and because I kept hoping there would be some hidden gem that justified the book's existence). If this is a typical example of Norman King's writing, I need never open another book with his name on the cover.