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Showing posts with label Michael Perry. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Michael Perry. Show all posts
Wednesday, June 09, 2010
Mormon Mentions: Michael Perry
8:49 AM
Ahhh, polygamy ... if it wasn't for those crazy fundamentalists, we Mormons would never get mentioned in modern literature at all ... Here's another funny reference, this one taken from Michael Perry's memoir, Coop:
"I admit there are times while traveling in certain circles that I take some perverse joy in letting slip that I was raised in an 'obscure fundamentalist Christian sect' because for some disinclined folks the phrase conjures a wild-eyed tribe of charismatic Bible-wingers hoarding automatic weapons and diesel fuel within a walled compound. When I reveal that I am no longer a member, there is the underlying inference that I escaped under cover of darkness and must forevermore avoid Utah. Sadly for the sake of cocktail talk, ours was a pretty low-key operation. No speaking in tongues, no Holy Rolling, and grape juice for communion. We kids went to public schools, our parents worked regular jobs, and at first glance the only thing you might notice was that our mothers wore dresses and stacked all their hair up in a bun. Mom did wear high-top construction boots with her maxi skirts, so that was a little off beat" (78). [Quote taken from an uncorrected proof - it may have been altered in the final book.]
Just for the record, the group with which Perry worshipped was not made up of polygamists, disaffected Mormons, or anything of the sort. It consisted of hardworking Wisconsin farm families devoted to strict principles of living. What I love about Perry's depiction of his unconventional religion is his ability to snicker at its zaniness without dissing its precepts or mocking the believers. He insists that those faithful to "The Truth" were humble, God-fearing, Christian people dedicated to living lives of righteous simplicity.
It's a funny quote, nonetheless.
"I admit there are times while traveling in certain circles that I take some perverse joy in letting slip that I was raised in an 'obscure fundamentalist Christian sect' because for some disinclined folks the phrase conjures a wild-eyed tribe of charismatic Bible-wingers hoarding automatic weapons and diesel fuel within a walled compound. When I reveal that I am no longer a member, there is the underlying inference that I escaped under cover of darkness and must forevermore avoid Utah. Sadly for the sake of cocktail talk, ours was a pretty low-key operation. No speaking in tongues, no Holy Rolling, and grape juice for communion. We kids went to public schools, our parents worked regular jobs, and at first glance the only thing you might notice was that our mothers wore dresses and stacked all their hair up in a bun. Mom did wear high-top construction boots with her maxi skirts, so that was a little off beat" (78). [Quote taken from an uncorrected proof - it may have been altered in the final book.]
Just for the record, the group with which Perry worshipped was not made up of polygamists, disaffected Mormons, or anything of the sort. It consisted of hardworking Wisconsin farm families devoted to strict principles of living. What I love about Perry's depiction of his unconventional religion is his ability to snicker at its zaniness without dissing its precepts or mocking the believers. He insists that those faithful to "The Truth" were humble, God-fearing, Christian people dedicated to living lives of righteous simplicity.
It's a funny quote, nonetheless.
Tuesday, June 08, 2010
No Matter What Your Poultry Ambitions, You'll Get A Kick (Cluck?) Out of Coop
1:00 AM
(Image from Barnes & Noble)Although The Pioneer Woman manages to make it look sexy, I've never in my life had any desire to live on a ranch, farm, or any other place that involves smelly animals and d
usk-to-dawn chores. Michael Perry's 2009 memoir, Coop, did not change my feelings in any way, shape, or form. If anything, it convinced me that reading about someone else's clumsy attempts to do something new is a lot safer, not to mention more entertaining, than trying it myself. Besides, laughing myself silly over someone else's foibles makes me feel a whole lot better about my own.
usk-to-dawn chores. Michael Perry's 2009 memoir, Coop, did not change my feelings in any way, shape, or form. If anything, it convinced me that reading about someone else's clumsy attempts to do something new is a lot safer, not to mention more entertaining, than trying it myself. Besides, laughing myself silly over someone else's foibles makes me feel a whole lot better about my own. Perry's adventure begins when he and his wife decide to move onto an overgrown Wisconsin farm. Driven by a "low-key doomsday mindset regarding the imminent future" (3)* coupled with a desire for self-sufficiency, a simplified lifestyle, and homegrown chickens, the couple takes on the project with gusto. They're not complete novices - both were raised on nearby farms - but a childhood spent baling hay, milking cows, and shearing sheep does not an expert make. As Michael soon finds out. His spread requires constant attention, from the rickety 100-year-old farmhouse to the rabbit-infested garden to his newly-acquired porkers. And then, there are the chickens. In order to make all his poultry dreams come true, Perry has to build a coop. For a wannabe handyman with a tendency to overdream and underbudget, this presents a slight problem. Especially when the homeless chickens arrive on his farm. For a man whose motto has become "Don't overreach, farmer boy" (67), Perry's done just that. Again.
To complicate matters, Perry's got a pregnant wife who insists on delivering the baby at home, a 6-year-old who's learning hard lessons about country life (pigs are food, not pets), and a writing career that leaves him with little time to fancy up the homestead. Suddenly, his simple lifestyle's getting mighty complicated.
As Perry grapples with his own problems, he mines his unorthodox childhood - the Wisconsin farm boy was raised by parents who worshipped with a fundamentalist Christian sect, raised dairy cows, and cared for dozens of foster children, including many with special needs - for tips on how to deal. Reminiscing about his early life and coping with all the mistakes and mishaps of his present one leads him to one conlusion: "While the life we are trying for here is a far cry from real farming, it does present opportunities for edification" (254). Even if those opportunities are occasionally overdone, farmer boy.
Whether your poultry ambitions include a backyard coop or just chomping nuggets at McDonald's, you'll get a kick out of Coop. It's that rare kind of memoir that had me laughing hysterically, sobbing uncontrollably and reading every other paragraph out loud to anyone who would listen. Althouh it makes getting back to nature look about as glamorous as wading through manure in high heels, the book offers a funny, tender reminder of the enduring nature of farming, family and, ahem, fowl. A real golden egg, this one is not to be missed.
(Readalikes: I don't read many farming memoirs, so I'm not sure on this one ...)
Grade: B+
If this were a movie, it would be rated: PG for mild sexual innuendo
To the FTC, with love: I received an ARC of Coop from the generous folks at Harper Collins. This review was written as part of Michael Perry's book tour with TLC Book Tours. To see the other stops, click here.
*All quotes were taken from an uncorrected proof. They may have been changed in the final book.
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