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book_concierge's review
1.0
This is a compilation of previously published works by Black, who is a trained veterinarian and a syndicated humorist / columnist.
I grew up in Texas, and my father was raised on a ranch/farm and worked as a butcher with his older brothers. I loved going to the rodeo and had no illusions about where my food came from. I also knew a rancher named Don who had about 10,000 acres up in the panhandle of Texas, on which he raised beef cattle. He used to write the occasional essay in his letters to me, waxing poetic about nature and the hard work of a rancher. When I saw this title, I immediately thought of Don, and I was expecting something like Don’s letters.
Instead I got mediocre to bad poetry that I’m sure some people find humorous but that did nothing for me. I did appreciate one or two of the sentiments (though the poetry was still bad). But I’m sure my reaction is affected by my reading this as a collection. There’s a big difference between reading the occasional “poem” and having an entire book of them. By about the tenth poem I was tired of them and reading the rest was more torture than enjoyment.
I grew up in Texas, and my father was raised on a ranch/farm and worked as a butcher with his older brothers. I loved going to the rodeo and had no illusions about where my food came from. I also knew a rancher named Don who had about 10,000 acres up in the panhandle of Texas, on which he raised beef cattle. He used to write the occasional essay in his letters to me, waxing poetic about nature and the hard work of a rancher. When I saw this title, I immediately thought of Don, and I was expecting something like Don’s letters.
Instead I got mediocre to bad poetry that I’m sure some people find humorous but that did nothing for me. I did appreciate one or two of the sentiments (though the poetry was still bad). But I’m sure my reaction is affected by my reading this as a collection. There’s a big difference between reading the occasional “poem” and having an entire book of them. By about the tenth poem I was tired of them and reading the rest was more torture than enjoyment.