Although The Fiddler in the Subway was an interesting book to review, it is a little odd to review for this reason: It contains 20 short stories or essays or literary explorations, each of which, in itself, has a fascinating beginning, middle, and ending much like an entire novel might have — an Act One, Act Two, and Act Three. As a reviewer, I think it is unfair to give the denouement of any particular “chapter.” Instead I will try to give the real flavor of just a few.
Chapter 1: "The Great Zucchini"
"The Great Zucchini" loves children. He spends much of his time entertaining two- through six-years old at any special occasion where parents or caretakers are willing to fork over $300 for a 35 minute session of abandoned, hysterical laughter for their child. More often than not, his shows involve small numbers of neighborhood children who have been invited to share a child’s party fun.
To grownups, Zucchini is pure slapstick — far from being funny to parents who shake their heads at this man’s utter ridiculousness. But to children who watch him mistake a banana for a telephone, or begin to eat paper from a toilet paper roll, or watch him hunt for the birthday girl or boy standing directly behind him, The Great Zucchini is a furious riot. He does perform some magic, none of which is sophisticated. The book provides insight into this man’s peculiar life and to the knack he has for making kids happy.
Chapter 2: "The First Father"
I was surprised to hear that Bill Clinton’s real father flipped over the family Buick Sedan while traveling from Chicago to Hope, Arkansas to pick up his wife, pregnant with the man who would someday become the 42nd president. Witnessing the accident, a man and his wife ran to investigate. When they could locate no driver, the man reached down into a partially filled drainage ditch, hunting for Clinton’s father. Where was he? How could he disappear? How much did this incident influence the life of soon-to-be-born William Clinton?
Chapter 3: "The Ghost of the Hardy Boys"
As a young boy, I probably read most of The Hardy Boys mystery stories. I thought the books were great, so limited was my pre-adolescent vocabulary. This chapter tells of The Hardy Boys writer Leslie McFarlane’s initial passion for writing and how he eventually tired of what he considered trite literature. How could he enthusiastically keep “banging out another idiotic novel … dull stuff;” yet his books still sell today
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