Review of Alex Carrick’s Three Scoop Is a Blast…
Here’s my Amazon review of this book: I liked it. You will too. Buy it. (Sent via Twitter?) Now, for a review with some meat on the bones—not fat. I’ve never met Alex. Those who know me and my Bookpleasures reviews know I won’t avoid negative criticism. While this is not a Bookpleasures review, I apply the same standards (even more so, since I’m the editor here). Bottom line: Alex compares favorably with Charles Ives. Consequently, this review is either negative or positive depending on whether you like Charles’ music. If you’re just indifferent to Charles or don’t know who he is, Alex wins by default. So, here goes….
Charles Ives was an insurance salesman and the father of estate planning (I suppose, to be politically correct, I should say salesperson, but, in Ives’ day, women’s lib was still many years in the future). Alex Carrick is an economist who sales theories to unsuspecting people. They are also related through their art: Charles wrote humorous and ironic music; Alex writes humorous and ironic short stories. The parallels don’t stop there. Charles had a loving and charming wife who encouraged him, Harmony Twitchell (I’m not making that up). Alex has a loving and charming wife who encourages him, is also a writer, and does an admirable job formatting eBooks and designing covers, including mine. Charles is from Danbury, Connecticut, which is almost Canada; Alex is from Toronto, which is almost New York state (I’m writing in Montclair, NJ—we’re so close to NYC that you always have to add the qualifier “state”). Both places are veerrry c-c-c-cold, so it’s interesting that their art warms the soul like good chicken soup (Oops! Did I just plagiarize someone’s title?—thank goodness those aren’t copyrightable).
Don’t ask me why Charles Ives is in this review—or rather, don’t ask my muses. They must like Ives and convinced me to write about him in order to understand why Charles popped into my head while reading Alex’ prose (if you can understand that, the rest of this review will be easy). Unlike Charles, though, Alex hasn’t won the Pulitzer Prize yet, because he can’t—he’s Canadian, remember. My English professor, N. Scott Momaday, could and did (House Made of Dawn, 1969)—I think he would like many of Alex’ stories. (As far as I know, Professor Momaday is the only Native American who has won—he satisfied Joseph Pulitzer’s American citizen requirement in spades.)
Lorian Hemingway also liked one of Alex’ stories, “The Size of the Skip;” it won an Honorable Mention in her yearly contest. The name of my trusty old laptop is Hemingway and a quote from that old curmudgeon runs in the banner to my website, so why am I neglected, Lorian? (Maybe because I don’t enter? These contests are like winning the lottery—you can’t win if you don’t enter. They have entry fees…sigh….)
In Three Scoops Is a Blast you will find thirty-six humorous, ironic, and often cynical “short stories.” I use the quotes because some are written in the style of little plays (saves on quotation marks). After each story’s title is a date—I assume this corresponds to the day the story was finished (so Alex writes each story in one day—does he also play speed chess?)—in any case, the order is chronological. I would have preferred aggregating by topic, but that’s nitpicking (I have to put one of these nitpicks in or this won’t be considered a serious review). Alex has two more books in the Scoops series, namely Two and Four, but there is no One. (They’re all bargain eBooks at $0.99, except One, which is free.) The list of titles is curious, but I’ll leave it to Alex to explain it. However, I’ll give you a hint via a personal anecdote that relates to the origin of the titles.
Once upon a time (that phrase has taken on a new meaning now with the excellent ABC TV show—at least so far excellent), my late brother Bob and I had a once-per-week custom that would put my present cardiologist in apoplexy (every visit his prescription is the same: “Lose weight. Get more exercise.”). I was going to school at U.C. Santa Barbara (where I had a class with Professor Momaday—that was before the Pulitzer, if you’re trying to figure out my age) and Baskin & Robbins had just opened a new franchise on State Street. My brother and I, being creative individuals, invented a new B & R sundae of sorts. It was comprised of five scoops of different ice cream flavors with marshmallow, chocolate, and strawberry toppings and a dollop of whip cream and the ubiquitous cherry. We called our invention “the fiver.” Consequently, Alex, there is room for another collection of “short stories”: Five Scoops Scoops Them All.
No, Alex’ series is not about ice cream—just the titles. He also has a Ten Tales series. Last I counted, he has more short stories than O. Henry. They are a mixed bag, and that’s not a negative—there’s something for everyone. My favorites in this particular collection? The very first one, “The Madame Lazonga Defense,” made me wonder if Alex couldn’t compete with John Grisham if Grisham had an ounce of humor in his bones. “Obamacare and Harry Potter” is a humorous comment on the healthcare debate in the U.S. (Canada doesn’t have to debate it—lucky them!). “I Got Robbed by a Liquor Store” describes charity by peer pressure, something I’ve chided Bill Gates and Warren Buffett for all the time. “The Devil Pulls a Fast One” is a new take on the Faustian legend—even Goethe would smile. “Giving a Finger to the Moon” is either an unintentional tribute or Alex is not a fan of a very famous singer. “The Red-Suit Mistletoe Initiative” could have been titled “The Recession Dulls Your Claus”—it’s very funny. “The Mechanized Sorting Day of the Dead” is a humorous take on religion—not for born-agains, this is about another king.
The worst of the thirty-six? “Catching Up on the Not So Local News (a.k.a. Burying Barry in Barrie).” This is local humor and very Canadian, so I couldn’t identify. To paraphrase Tip O’Neill, most humor is local, so I imagine the Canadians find our humor humorless at times too. (Alex’ other stories are verily international.) The best? Surprise—not the Lorian Hemingway Honorable Mention. (So there, Lorian.) For me, it’s “The Wizard and the Rose”—when you are searching, you will be amazed at other things you can find (this story is more serious and not about car keys).
There’s sci-fi humor, as in “A Curious Case of Bottled-up Passion” that analyzes the question of why women need men. There’s ironic fantasy, as in “An Imaginary Friend of an Imaginary Friend of Mine”—thank goodness Mr. Escher didn’t step into this one. There are elaborate puns, as in “Chasing a Murderer into Polar Bear Country.” There are even fairy tales, as in “One Thousand Years of Baked Goods”—well, more like a fairy tale sequel, in common with ABC’s series; I won’t have mushrooms on my next few pizzas.
Like I said, something for everyone. And well measured—I generally can get through about four or five stories per glass of Jameson’s, and Alex is much more entertaining than those silly TV sitcom screenwriters. In fact, there’s a lot of entertainment here for $0.99. Keep it up, Mr. Carrick. You’re probably already more popular than Mr. Ives!
In libris libertas…
