Tuesday, 6 February 2018

LIFE BEGINS WHEN THE KIDS LEAVE HOME AND THE DOG DIES by Barb Taub @barbtaub

5 out of 5 stars

On Amazon UK
On Amazon.com
On Goodreads




How I discovered this book: I love Barb Taub's blog and thought her account of a few weeks in India, Do Not Wash Hands In Plates, was one of the funniest books ever, so this was a 'must buy'!

Genre: Domestic humour, non-fiction 

This is a collection of articles, all with a family theme, from Barb's own childhood, about her parents and siblings, and about her own children and family life.  Later, she touches upon death, and writing....they are all really, really funny.  There are so many newspaper columns and would-be hilarious blogs about domestic life in which the humour seems a little forced and self-consciously 'wacky'; not these.  I read a lot of PJ O'Rourke, and Barb Taub's style reminds me of his lighter, more domestically-orientated pieces.  The off-the-wall snark's all there.

In LBWKLH&DDs, you can do the Super Mother quiz.  And read about Barb's adventures with the possibly rabies-riddled dead bat.  If you dare.  BT deserves widespread reknown ~ I suggest you buy this, pronto, so you can see what I mean!

I'll leave you with some quotes:

When Barb is trying to feed her kids with wholefoods but her husband gives their small one her first ice cream cone: 'Through the chocolate, I could see her thinking, "This stuff was out there and I've been eating yams?"'

'While I bought (my children) developmental, non-gender-specific playthings, my daughters held fashion shows for the stuffed toys and dolls, and their brother built the blocks and legos into weapons of mass-doll-destruction.'

'Barb's guide to films: if the characters kiss a lot, have sex, and then kill each other, it's American.  If they smoke a lot, have sex, and then kill themselves, it's foreign.'

'Sadly, the day came when we had to choose between the cat and our son, who turned out to be allergic to her.  This was a difficult choice because while our son had never coughed up a hairball, he was not a very good mouser.'




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