Grizzard's 13th book is a love letter to a profession that no longer exists - old school (1960s) newspaperman. His passion for the way newspapers used to be put together is patently obvious from the loving way he writes - and digresses - about it here. He was certainly a lucky person who set his career path early and shot up the ladder with impressive speed.

In a lot of ways, it seems like his early luck turned out to be anything but in the long run. He made an ill-fated decision to move to Chicago to take over the Sun-Times sports section, and the only way he could get out of there was to give up editing and become a columnist. It's quite sad to read the end of this book, when he realizes that he has to give up his passion to save his sanity. Lucky for him, though, that his column worked out as well as it did for him, giving him the chance to have a second career as a humorist.

This book is narrative but it is FULL of digressions and meanderings away from his point, so if that style bothers you, give this one a pass. The first chapter is also awful - most of it can be skipped without anything of value being lost. I find Mr Grizzard's style impulsively readable, and both funny and poignant. He owns (most of) his mistakes, as he does with his other narrative books. Some things still hold up, while others are cringe-worthy.

After reading this book, I don't think he would've taken the transition to modern day newspapering well at all - he had enough trouble with the twenty-so years covered in the book. It's way too different now, 50 years later. ( )