Eric Poole

Eric Poole tells the story of his life from about age 8 until adolescence in this engaging memoir. He has a great sense of humour, which comes through as he manages to make the reader laugh about life, and smile at all the references to the 1970s (shag carpets, hot pants, Match Game). Eric survives his obsessive-compulsive Mother, and the bullying he is subjected to at school by channeling Endora (Samantha's mother in Bewtiched) and the magic powers inbuded in an old chenille bedspread.

Well written, a light read that will leave deeper messages with you.… (mais)

Where’s My Wand? One Boy’s Magical Triumph Over Alienation and Shag Carpeting by Eric Poole is not only hilarious, sincere, and totally enjoyable for any type of reader, but as far as memoirs go (and I like to think of myself as a memoir connoisseur) Where’s My Wand? is one of those rare books that just makes you laugh, and laugh, and laugh. Where has Eric Poole been hiding all of my life? You will certainly grow to love this small boy as I have (the book follows Eric’s life from age eight to adolescence), because Eric’s painfully honest portrayal of what life was like growing up in the midwest during the 1970s as a confused and semi-closeted gay boy who channeled Endora from Bewitched is pure genius. Seriously, the book is simply fabulous. I even dare to proclaim that Eric Poole has now joined the ranks of Augusten Burroughs and David Sedaris, forming what I like to call a holy trio. I normally don’t compare authors to other authors, because to me, each author is like a beautiful and unique snowflake. But, today I have to, because I am certain fans of either Augusten or David will love Eric and his book as much as I do.

I finished this book two weeks ago on my way to a book convention (where I learned about hundreds of other new books) and I still can’t stop laughing about this poor boy who had to rake his shag carpeting each night. Eric Poole’s mother was so severely anal-retentive that she didn’t like to see foot marks in their shag carpeting. And, Eric didn’t rake it just as a daily chore, or a simple task, he had to rake it until it was perfect, because their carpet had to be foot print free at all times. Shag carpet raking is at a level of compulsion so high and disturbing, I can’t even fathom it. I am the girl who stayed the night at her best friend’s house and had to wipe down her entire shower with a squeegee once I got out, since I was in elementary school. My college roommate actually forced me to become anal-retentive after spending hours giving me lessons on how to fold my bath towels and sweaters the right way. My husband will swoop into our bedroom to make our bed if I get up to pee, even though he knows I’m coming right back to bed and I will mess it up. So, to say I have lived with, and have known some pretty compulsive people in my lifetime means nothing once you read about Eric’s mother and her many compulsive demands. When you’ve been around compulsive people your entire life, compulsive behavior becomes hilarious to you, because that is the only way to survive it. Even when Eric’s parents had a huge fight, and his father left in the middle of the night, possibly for forever in Eric’s young and fragile mind, his mother didn’t try to console him, she just simply said “Well, you’re gonna have to rake all over again.”

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http://thegirlfromtheghetto.wordpress.com/2010/06/22/book-giveaway-wheres-my-wan...… (mais)