J: There was a yawning gulf between my expectations and what Vacationland actually delivered. My perceptions were perhaps colored by the opinions of fellow readers and by the fact that I know of John Hodgman as a humorist. Is it not fair to expect laugh-out-loud humor from a former contributor to The Daily Show with Jon Stewart and a book blurb that boasts “Though wildly, Hodgmaniacally funny as usual, it is also a poignant and sincere account of one human facing his forties, those years when men . . . settle into the failing bodies of the wiser, weird dads that they are.”? The essays from the first half of the book were dull and fell flat. I was surprised by the glowing reviews lauding Vacationland‘s laugh-out-loud factor and entertaining value. I felt like an outsider at a party who didn’t get any of the jokes or the anecdotal humor of the guest of honor.
R: If it makes you feel any better, you’re not alone. I wanted to like it so bad. I did. But you know that part where Hodgman goes on (and on) about the humor in Maine being very specific to the region: well, maybe I’m not New Yorker enough to get it. I felt like the essays would just ramble to nowhere (like the epilogue, where the punchline was in the middle of how many pages?), and if he wasn’t rambling it was like he was trying too hard. (To take a page out of his book:) It’s like he had a few essays and his editor or agent or publicist was like Hey Johnny, you stretch this out and you’ll have another book on your hands, and he was like, Hey, I can do that, so he sat down at his bookshop/café (I did google the place, the description was fitting, and of all the “destinations” this one I wouldn’t mind visiting) and typed page after page of any memory that made him laugh out loud or chuckle or at the very least huff that little bit of air out his nose from amusement and his editor or agent or publicist is from New York and was like Johnny! you’re a comic genius. I, on the other hand, was not amused, or at least not as amused as I wanted to be. So, this begs the question: did you find any redeeming qualities?
J: There are incidents that are just funnier experienced firsthand. Vacationland is a prime example of the phrase “You just had to be there!” The book’s redeeming qualities weren’t revealed to me until late in Part Two. The reading experience felt comparable to having to dig deeper for buried treasure, although the treasure in this case was more like tool stones than gold. The essays from Part Two had more substance and didn’t seem so much like the ramblings of a humorist fishing for any memory that elicited so much as that little huff of air from his nose. There were sentences interspersed throughout that were quite poignant and profound. And I even chuckled here and there.
R: I love the idea of this book being the epitome of “you had to be there.” I can’t think of a more apt description. And as for chuckling: there is one part in particular, when Hodgman is recounting a story told to him about Jimmy Steele, the famed boat builder from Maine, delivering white oak wood to Hodgman’s neighbor. At this point in my reading, a sound of joy came out of me that I hadn’t experienced in the previous 200 pages. The problem, however, is my favorite part of this book is a story told to Hodgman almost as an aside, a Family Guy cut away if you will, that he didn’t experience firsthand. That being said, I did want to enjoy the book. I really did. Like I said, maybe I just didn’t get it. Or maybe, with a subtitle of “True Stories from Painful Beaches,” I was expecting something else, something more “Supposedly Fun Things I’ll Never Do Again” meets “Mr. Hulot’s Holiday.” But, alas, what’s printed is what it is: so while teetering towards a 3, at the end of this long trip, I’m going with a 2.
J: I agree. John Hodgman gave us a glimpse of his potential as a raconteur, but the essayistic landscape was mostly barren and dry. If the stories had been more engaging, I would consider 3 stars.
J: There was a yawning gulf between my expectations and what Vacationland actually delivered. My perceptions were perhaps colored by the opinions of fellow readers and by the fact that I know of John Hodgman as a humorist. Is it not fair to expect laugh-out-loud humor from a former contributor to The Daily Show with Jon Stewart and a book blurb that boasts “Though wildly, Hodgmaniacally funny as usual, it is also a poignant and sincere account of one human facing his forties, those years when men . . . settle into the failing bodies of the wiser, weird dads that they are.”? The essays from the first half of the book were dull and fell flat. I was surprised by the glowing reviews lauding Vacationland‘s laugh-out-loud factor and entertaining value. I felt like an outsider at a party who didn’t get any of the jokes or the anecdotal humor of the guest of honor.
R: If it makes you feel any better, you’re not alone. I wanted to like it so bad. I did. But you know that part where Hodgman goes on (and on) about the humor in Maine being very specific to the region: well, maybe I’m not New Yorker enough to get it. I felt like the essays would just ramble to nowhere (like the epilogue, where the punchline was in the middle of how many pages?), and if he wasn’t rambling it was like he was trying too hard. (To take a page out of his book:) It’s like he had a few essays and his editor or agent or publicist was like Hey Johnny, you stretch this out and you’ll have another book on your hands, and he was like, Hey, I can do that, so he sat down at his bookshop/café (I did google the place, the description was fitting, and of all the “destinations” this one I wouldn’t mind visiting) and typed page after page of any memory that made him laugh out loud or chuckle or at the very least huff that little bit of air out his nose from amusement and his editor or agent or publicist is from New York and was like Johnny! you’re a comic genius. I, on the other hand, was not amused, or at least not as amused as I wanted to be. So, this begs the question: did you find any redeeming qualities?
J: There are incidents that are just funnier experienced firsthand. Vacationland is a prime example of the phrase “You just had to be there!” The book’s redeeming qualities weren’t revealed to me until late in Part Two. The reading experience felt comparable to having to dig deeper for buried treasure, although the treasure in this case was more like tool stones than gold. The essays from Part Two had more substance and didn’t seem so much like the ramblings of a humorist fishing for any memory that elicited so much as that little huff of air from his nose. There were sentences interspersed throughout that were quite poignant and profound. And I even chuckled here and there.
R: I love the idea of this book being the epitome of “you had to be there.” I can’t think of a more apt description. And as for chuckling: there is one part in particular, when Hodgman is recounting a story told to him about Jimmy Steele, the famed boat builder from Maine, delivering white oak wood to Hodgman’s neighbor. At this point in my reading, a sound of joy came out of me that I hadn’t experienced in the previous 200 pages. The problem, however, is my favorite part of this book is a story told to Hodgman almost as an aside, a Family Guy cut away if you will, that he didn’t experience firsthand. That being said, I did want to enjoy the book. I really did. Like I said, maybe I just didn’t get it. Or maybe, with a subtitle of “True Stories from Painful Beaches,” I was expecting something else, something more “Supposedly Fun Things I’ll Never Do Again” meets “Mr. Hulot’s Holiday.” But, alas, what’s printed is what it is: so while teetering towards a 3, at the end of this long trip, I’m going with a 2.
J: I agree. John Hodgman gave us a glimpse of his potential as a raconteur, but the essayistic landscape was mostly barren and dry. If the stories had been more engaging, I would consider 3 stars.