I’ve had a number of false starts lately, with books that I thought I would like but just kind of didn’t. In between false starts, I filled my time with Sex, Drugs, and Cocoa-Puffs, by Chuck Klosterman, which is basically a compilation of essays and short pieces by him on various pop culture topics. Just as I finished it, I found myself in upstate New York for the Thanksgiving holiday and picked up John Hodgman’s The Areas of My Expertise [that's the short title], which also appeared to me to be a compendium of pop culture tidbits and information.

sex drugs and cocoa puffs cover Area of my expertise by Hodgman cover
Let’s just say I’m batting .500. Chuck Klosterman’s book is pretty hysterical, and hits me right in the wheelhouse on a number of topics. As an example, he’s got an essay entitled Sulking with Lisa Loeb on the Ice Planet Hoth, in which he talks about how it’s cool to like Star Wars, and how that makes it totally uncool to like Star Wars, and then he proceeds to explain how Luke Skywalker was the first Gen Xer. Quote (I believe small enough to avert a copyright infringement claim):

For one thing, he was incessantly whiny. For another, he was exhaustively educated — via Yoda — about things that had little practical value (i.e., how to stand on one’s head while lifting a rock telekinetically). Essentially, Luke went to the University of Dagobah with a major in Buddhist philosophy and a minor in physical education.

He goes on to talk about parental problems, Luke vs. Han Solo as role models, and plenty of other elements from the original trilogy that resonate with anyone born and raised as part of Generation X. I won’t crib any more from the book; just go out and buy it if you are reading this (because if you are into this kind of stuff, chances are you’ll love this book).

As for John Hodgman’s book, it was a piece of crap. I finished it in less than twenty minutes, by skipping from page to page looking for something — anything — funny. I failed to find it. This was a great concept that was completely and utterly underdelivered on. Hint: if you think a list of 700 made-up hobo names, or a list of nine presidents who had hooks for hands would be funny, then this book is right up your alley. But we’re not friends anymore.