Category: Excerpts

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Off the Shelf: Soccer Stories by Donn Risolo

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Risolo Read "1881: Women’s Soccer Is Born; "What next?"" from Chapter 1, "Everyone, Everywhere" of Soccer Stories: Anecdotes, Oddities, Lore, and Amazing Feats by Donn Risolo:

"Today, women have their own World Cup, under-20, and under-17 world championships, and Olympic soccer tournament, plus continental championships. There was a time, though, when the (male) soccer establishment considered organized women’s soccer something of an outrage.

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Off the Shelf: Death as a Side Effect by Ana María Shua

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ShuaRead the beginning of Chapter 2 from Death as a Side Effect by Ana María Shua, Translated by Andrea G. Labinger:

"The telephone woke me like a scream. It was my father. It was nighttime. I called a taxi. There are several dangerous blocks between his house and mine, but in an armored car, I felt safe. Taxis are little fortresses on wheels, one of the few trustworthy institutions we’ve got left.

Until a few years ago, you could still walk in the city. When we started seeing each other, I allowed myself to dream that one day we would walk along the street together, that one day you wouldn’t mind being seen in public with me. I even imagined holding your hand on some solitary stroll, caressing your short, delicate fingers, the sensitive oval of your fingernails. You didn’t like your hands; you thought they were too small: you used to spread out your fi ngers, displaying them for me, comparing them with the size of your palms, criticizing their shortness. You didn’t like them, but to me, your childlike hands on my chest were so beautiful—deceitful, touching, and perfect: yours.

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Federal Writers’ Project in the news — and subject of new UNP book

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Lincoln seems to finally be settling into the autumn season with bright leaves blowing across streets and people dressing in cozy sweaters. For this week, Wyoming Folklore is hot off the press. This book is based on writings collected via the Federal Writer's Project, which was issued by Franklin Roosevelt in an attempt to employ out-of-work teachers, writers, and scholars. They fanned out across the country to collect and document local lore. This book reveals the remarkable results of the FWP in Wyoming at a time when it was still possible to interview Civil War veterans and former slaves, homesteaders … Continue reading Federal Writers’ Project in the news — and subject of new UNP book

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Off the Shelf: Wyoming Folklore collected by the Federal Writers’ Project

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Wyoming Folklore Read the beginning of "Cowboy Days with the Old Union Cattle Company: Life Notes of Thomas Richardson" from Wyoming Folklore: Reminiscences, Folktales, Beliefs, Customs, and Folk Speech collected by the Federal Writers' Project, edited by James R. Dow, Roger L. Welsch, and Susan D. Dow:

"In 1884 my father decided that he had had enough of the Niobrara [River] (in northwestern Nebraska). Mostly, we had known hard times, strife, and disappointment there. In June we loaded up two covered wagons and started out on a long trek to find a new location.

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Off the Shelf: The Crimes of Paris by Dorothy and Thomas Hoobler

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Hoobler cover image Read "Theft" from The Crimes of Paris: A True Story of Murder, Theft, and Detection by Dorothy and Thomas Hoobler:

"It was a Monday and the Louvre was closed. As was standard practice at the museum on that day of the week, only maintenance workers, cleaning staff, curators, and a few other employees roamed the cavernous halls of the building that was once the home of France’s kings but since the revolution had been devoted to housing the nation’s art treasures.

Acquired through conquest, wealth, good taste, and plunder, those holdings were splendid and vast—so much so that the Louvre could lay claim to being the greatest repository of art in the world. With some fifty acres of gallery space, the collection was too immense for visitors to view in a day or even, some thought, in a lifetime.1 Most guidebooks, therefore, advised tourists not to miss the Salon Carré (Square room). In that single room could be seen two paintings by Leonardo da Vinci, three by Titian, two by raphael, two by Correggio, one by Giorgione, three by Veronese, one by Tintoretto, and—representing non-Italians—one each by Rubens, Rembrandt, and Velázquez.

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Off the Shelf: The Nebraska Dispatches by Christopher Cartmill

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Nebraska Dispatches cover image Read "Dispatch: A Story of My Parents" from The Nebraska Dispatches by Christopher Cartmill:

"I remember when I was a kid thinking that the house we lived in was on top of an enormous hill. At the time we lived in a part of Kansas where there are no hills. That’s what memory does.

While other kids’ houses smelled of beef barley soup, our house glowed with the scent of whiskey and Miss Dior. My father was a handsome self-made man from the southern great plains who had been something of a ne’er-do-well in school—caring more for golf than education. That is, until he married my mother. She was a part-time model and self-made woman of great energy and beauty and education. Her passions were for the theater, for teaching, and for my father.

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Off the Shelf: In Search of Powder by Jeremy Evans

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Evans Read the beginning of the Introduction from In Search of Powder: A Story of America's Disappearing Ski Bum by Jeremy Evans, Foreword by Glen Plake:

"The idea for this book entered my mind on a rainy November day along Interstate 5 in Portland, Oregon. I was stuck in traffic. I was rarely stuck in traffic in Lake Tahoe, where I lived for three years before moving to the Pacific Northwest. Now instead of counting how many days I went snowboarding, I kept track of my daily commutes. Some afternoons it took me almost two hours to drive the 8.2 miles from my downtown apartment to work. I was on a similar pace on that rainy November day when something occurred to me.

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Off the Shelf: Unlearning to Fly by Jennifer Brice

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Unlearning to Fly cover image Read the beginning of Chapter 1, "At the Airport: A Romance" from Unlearning to Fly by Jennifer Brice:

"My father proposed to my mother in an airport. I like that sentence so much, I can hardly bear to revise it. But I must. The second time my father proposed to my mother, it was in an airport. The first time was in a car. They’d met three weeks earlier, when my father’s brother, Sam, asked my mother to be my father’s blind date for his own birthday party. He was twenty-seven and she was twenty-five. Back then, Al Brice was holding down three jobs: a mechanic for Pan Am, an afterhours fueler for a jet fuel-supply company, and a logger for his family’s fledgling land-clearing concern. Carol Heeks was a public health nurse who’d arrived in Fairbanks in July of 1961 at the wheel of a blue Plymouth Valiant. A New Yorker by birth and temperament, she was unwilling to spend the rest of her life in a frontier outpost so unprepossessing that a person could drive the length and breadth of it—as she once had—without ever realizing she’d arrived.

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Off the Shelf: Swallowing the Soap by William Kloefkorn

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Read the poem, "Eating Mulberries for Breakfast" from Swallowing the Soap: New and Selected Poems by William Kloefkorn, edited and with an introduction by Ted Genoways:   Eating Mulberries for Breakfast   Mostly purple, purple becoming snowdriftas sugar falls from the small mouthof the dispenser,   purple you gathered from the tree justyesterday, your little brotherabove you lost almost   in branches of purple, purple risingin the bowl as the thick milkrises, and with a silver spoon   you begin to eat what you knowyour buddy Gene will laugh atwhen you tell him, if you   tell him, snowdrift sugar … Continue reading Off the Shelf: Swallowing the Soap by William Kloefkorn

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Off the Shelf: The John Lardner Reader edited and with an introduction by John Schulian

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John Lardner Reader cover image Read the beginning of the Introduction from The John Lardner Reader: A Press Box Legend's Classic Sportswriting, edited and with an introduction by John Schulian:

"Since TV and talk radio started throwing crazy money at them, more and more otherwise admirable sportswriters have been only too happy to install whoopee cushions where their regard for the language used to be. It’s a natural reaction, I suppose, like realizing that the only way to be heard in a noisy bar is to shout louder than everybody else. But sly humor and high style have taken a drubbing everywhere sports are written. Worse yet, John Lardner has been forgotten. That’s as wrong as wearing white socks at a funeral.

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