Rouse’s fourth collection of autobiographical essays is about holidays, some traditional (Christmas, Thanksgiving, New Year’s), some (Spring Break, Secretary’s Day, Arbor Day) . . . not. No matter, however, since the holiday theme is little more than a literary excuse for Rouse to recall episodes from his and his family’s past. He is no David Sedaris, though he tries awfully hard to be, and as a result, some of the humor is as strained as Mr. Magoo’s eyesight. Ironically, the best pieces in the book are the ones where tenderness, not hilarity, takes control of the mood being evoked. For example, Rouse’s recollections of the Memorial Days he spent as a child with his mother and grandmother as they decorated family graves are genuinely touching, as is his account of trying to rescue an abandoned and terribly sick dog. Ultimately, Rouse’s essays are like holidays: some are delightful, and some must simply be endured. --Michael Cart
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