timetowaste
Well-Known Member
the story of cinnamon and how the book came to be hit philadelphia weekly today!
http://www.philadelphiaweekly.com/articles/16053
For hardcore book lovers, coming out of a bookstore can sometimes be like coming out of a porn movie. Your head is down, your shoulders are hunched, you desperately hope you wonât see anyone you know. Maybe you bought Cat Fancy instead of The Nation. Maybe you spent an hour and a half reading a book because youâre too cheap to buy it, and now your butt is tingly because you were in the wooden chair with that weird groove in it. Or maybe you purchased the book version of a blogâthe ultimate in callow, pointless purchases. I know your shame. The other day I went into Barnes & Noble fully intending to make a thoughtful purchaseâI believe I had reserved a copy of Søren Kierkegaardâs barn-burner Either/Orâand I walked out with Sharon Stitelerâs Disapproving Rabbits. Stiteler started out working with and loving birds but purchased a bunny on impulse. She quickly noticed something funny about the brownish rabbit sheâd named Cinnamon: He often looked like he was frowning at her imperiously, as if to say, âI donât approve of you.â The photographs in this book prove Cinnamon was not unique. Each and every rabbit therein gazes autocratically, and Stiteler has helpfully provided translations. A portly white puff sternly says, âAre you still here?â A reddish bunny on a leash says, âYou know, not everyone can wear spandex.â A similar-looking bunny, this time enjoying an outdoor scene, says, âYour insufficiencies wound me to the core.â Thatâs right, folks. Youâve got 179 pages of this, and youâre going to laugh at about 160. You canât say that for Danish existentialists. If I remember grad school correctly, they arenât nearly as judgmental as bunny rabbits.
http://www.philadelphiaweekly.com/articles/16053
For hardcore book lovers, coming out of a bookstore can sometimes be like coming out of a porn movie. Your head is down, your shoulders are hunched, you desperately hope you wonât see anyone you know. Maybe you bought Cat Fancy instead of The Nation. Maybe you spent an hour and a half reading a book because youâre too cheap to buy it, and now your butt is tingly because you were in the wooden chair with that weird groove in it. Or maybe you purchased the book version of a blogâthe ultimate in callow, pointless purchases. I know your shame. The other day I went into Barnes & Noble fully intending to make a thoughtful purchaseâI believe I had reserved a copy of Søren Kierkegaardâs barn-burner Either/Orâand I walked out with Sharon Stitelerâs Disapproving Rabbits. Stiteler started out working with and loving birds but purchased a bunny on impulse. She quickly noticed something funny about the brownish rabbit sheâd named Cinnamon: He often looked like he was frowning at her imperiously, as if to say, âI donât approve of you.â The photographs in this book prove Cinnamon was not unique. Each and every rabbit therein gazes autocratically, and Stiteler has helpfully provided translations. A portly white puff sternly says, âAre you still here?â A reddish bunny on a leash says, âYou know, not everyone can wear spandex.â A similar-looking bunny, this time enjoying an outdoor scene, says, âYour insufficiencies wound me to the core.â Thatâs right, folks. Youâve got 179 pages of this, and youâre going to laugh at about 160. You canât say that for Danish existentialists. If I remember grad school correctly, they arenât nearly as judgmental as bunny rabbits.
