One Potato Review
Colonial ennui: “I hate going to town. There are too many people in town. They all run around in a hurry and ring bells and eat pies, and then they yell at each other to stop running around, ringing bells, and eating pies. There is nothing good to do in town. Why would I go to town?” The rants grow steadily more baroque until we are considering macaroni, of all things, and its questionable fanciness, still it’s the wincing, halting moment when this Yankee’s crankiness crosses the line into cruelty (he calls his pony smelly) that makes this book worth regularly referring back to.