The Fran Lebowitz Reader

The Fran Lebowitz Reader

Fran Lebowitz

Language: English

Pages: 333

ISBN: 0679761802

Format: PDF / Kindle (mobi) / ePub

Fran Lebowitz in
Public Speaking
A Martin Scorsese Picture
Now an HBO® Documentary Film

The Fran Lebowitz Reader brings together in one volume, with a new preface, two bestsellers, Metropolitan Life and Social Studies, by an "important humorist in the classic tradition" (The New York Times Book Review) who is "the natural successor to Dorothy Parker" (British Vogue). In "elegant, finely honed prose" (The Washington Post Book World), Lebowitz limns the vicissitudes of contemporary urban life—its fads, trends, crazes, morals, and fashions. By turns ironic, facetious, deadpan, sarcastic, wry, wisecracking, and waggish, she is always wickedly entertaining.

100 Essays I Don't Have Time to Write: On Umbrellas and Sword Fights, Parades and Dogs, Fire Alarms, Children, and Theater

Non-Essential Mnemonics: An Unnecessary Journey into Senseless Knowledge

Skipping Towards Gomorrah

The Education of a Typographer



















life—always a godmother, never a God. Weak Speech Handsets: Aid for the Dull The average person reacts to the arrival of his phone bill with a simple snort of disgust, but I frequently find my displeasure tempered with a touch of anticipation. For, unpleasant as it is to receive the written proof that one has indeed been whiling away the slender remainder of one’s youth in costly, idle chat, one is nevertheless helpless against the fact that one is inordinately fond of a good long read. And

may find this argument specious, I offer the following as absolute definitive evidence that it is money and money alone that influences the weather. 1. On August 13, 1975, at 3:00 P.M., the temperature on Fourteenth Street and Eighth Avenue was ninety-four degrees—the humidity 85 percent. On the exact same date and at the exact same time the temperature on Seventy-third Street and Fifth Avenue was a balmy seventy-one degrees—the humidity a comfortable 40 percent. I know, because I was there. 2.

confused and imagine that one is not walking down Fifth Avenue at all but rather that one has somehow wound up in Old Vienna. Should one imagine that one is in Old Vienna one is likely to become quite upset when one realizes that in Old Vienna there is no sale at Charles Jourdan. And that is why when I walk down Fifth Avenue I want to hear traffic. 4. Music in the Movies I’m not talking about musicals. Musicals are movies that warn you by saying, “Lots of music here. Take it or leave it.” I’m

subject. This delayed the proceedings for hours but eventually the Abstract Expressionist, who had every reason to want the Cubists out of the picture, calmed Braque X by guaranteeing safe passage if he promised to give up his crazy scheme. Braque X, realizing that they had him up against the wall, accepted the offer and an assemblage of planes and angles transported the Cubists back to their rightful place in art history. The police, however, were not satisfied with the outcome and the

a matter of personal opinion. This state of affairs has manifested itself in countless ways, and one can no longer take comfort and sustenance from knowing one’s place, keeping one’s place, taking one’s place or finding one’s place. The list, of course, does not end here. I could and would go on and on, were there not a larger issue at stake. For the hazards set forth on this list, grave though they be, are relatively insignificant when measured against the knowledge that one’s place of

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