In God We Trust...All Others Pay Cash (Jean Shepherd, 1966)

First off, I want to say the original cover, which graced my copy as obtained from the Menlo Park Public Library, bears an uncanny resemblance to the logo for the recently-cancelled TV show "Community" (see below). Anyway, moving right along, this was a case of excellent timing. In our "Read a Classic Challenge" group, June is humor/satire month, and this book was already on my shortlist, so I graciously agreed to lead the featured book for the month. Most people may have heard the title because this book serves as about 3/4 of the basis for the holiday classic movie A Christmas Story. I don't need to rehash those parts since the movie serves them quite well, particularly the Red Rider BB Gun and the Leg Lamp stories. There are two excellent stories that don't get featured in the movie. One is about how ridiculous fishing culture is, complete with fish-story levels of hyperbole and exaggeration. Another is the all-too-familiar fiasco of learning to drive a manual transmission car and the inevitable torrent of agony it places on his father.

The structure of the book is not revealed by the movie. The movie largely goes after three of the stories here and a few snippets of the others and puts them all in the context of Christmas hijinks. I think the script (which was co-authored by Shepherd) also cleverly embellished some of the stories (little things like "Fragile? Must be Italian!") that aren't in the text of the book. The book itself interweaves the stories of childhood in Depression-era Indiana into an ongoing discussion between Ralph (Ralphie), visiting from New York City, and Flick, his childhood friend who never left and now tends the bar. Although as adults they are worlds apart, they are able to while away most the afternoon and evening reminiscing about growing up. The "adult" chapters, the odd numbered ones, have a certain bittersweet quality to them. The even chapters tend to be more warm and funny.

One flaw in the book, which is actually fairly common for these types of books, is the problem with repetitiveness because the "childhood" chapters were mostly published in magazines prior to the release of the book. So the readers of Playboy (the ones that were really reading it for the articles!) needed some context as they worked into the story, something the book readers probably didn't need. But at the same time, Shepherd is so hostile to the dirty-industry culture of Indiana, it is actually enjoyable to read him attacking it from all directions in each story.

While Shepherd isn't quite as ridiculous as those he inspired, like David Sedaris or Augustin Burroughs, his style is warm and funny enough that I will be seeking out the other part of the Christmas Story experience, a book released five years later called Wanda Hickey's Night of Golden Memories.

Sort of?