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Chatter

There are people out there who will talk about anything. It's not a bad thing, really, and plenty of what they have to say is important. It seems like a pretty healthy lifestyle, you know, putting it all out there. In theory. For practical purposes, I try to keep my phone number away from those chatty people.

And yet when David Gilmour, chatty person poster dad of the decade, writes about his preternaturally communicative adolescent son in The Film Club: a memoir, the book is positively unputdownable. At first I was charmed by a strange cultural disconnect, obvious by page eight, that made me wonder why their world was just a little bit off the mark. Seventy pages later during a geographical anecdote it struck me. "OH! Dude's Canadian! Now I get it!" Then I could relax and enjoy the rest of the book, brow unwrinkled, relatively.

I think people who like movies would like the book. It does cover a bunch of movies, about a dozen of which I have seen. But I think the primary appeal would be for people who have set kids loose on the world and wondered if they maybe weren't doing it exactly right. Could there be more than one of us? I loved reading this book.

Comments

( 2 comments — Leave a comment )
mrz80
May. 6th, 2008 10:30 am (UTC)
Ok, it took me a minute to derail my initial, hideously erroneous thought patterns... I saw the name "David Gilmour" and immediately started hearing Pink Floyd songs in my head, which did nothing for my ability to perceive that this was not the David Gilmour you were referring to. Getting up at 4am does things to a guy :-).
whimmydiddle
May. 6th, 2008 01:40 pm (UTC)
Ah. Words! Nice! Thanks! I shall make a note of the book.
( 2 comments — Leave a comment )

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