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Title: Sh*t My Dad Says by Justin Halpern
Details: Copyright 2010, Harper Collins Publishers
Synopsis (By Way of Front Flap): "After being dumped by his longtime girlfriend, twenty-eight -year-old Justin Halpern found himself living at home with his seventy-three-year-old dad. Sam Halpern, who is "like Socrates, but angrier, and with worse hair," has never minced words, and when Justin moved back home, he began to record all the ridiculous things his dad said to him:
"That woman was sexy... Out of your league? Son, let women figure out why they won't screw you. Don't do it for them."
"Do people your age know how to comb their hair? It looks like two squirrels crawled on their heads and started fucking."
“The worst thing you can be is a liar....Okay fine, yes, the worst thing you can be is a Nazi, but then number two is liar. Nazi one, liar two.”
More than a million people now follow Mr Halpern's philosophical muses on Twitter, and in this book, his son weaves a brilliantly funny, touching coming-of-age memoir around the best of his quotes. An all-American story that unfolds on the Little League field, in Denny's, during excruciating family road trips, and most frequently, in the Halperns' kitchen over bowls of Grape-Nuts, Sh*t My Dad Says is a chaotic, hilarious, true portrait of a father-son relationship from a major new comic voice."
Why I Wanted to Read It: I had paged through this some time back and wanted to finally finish it.
How I Liked It: Comedy ages poorly, they say. Don't take my word for it. But I would amend that to some comedy can age poorly. I've mentioned before the curious first decade in this century as far as humor and taste is concerned (in the wake of 9/11, a lot of the social reforms of the 1990s were abandoned in favor of an "edgy", confrontational, borderline nihilistic style that has frankly aged like milk). Let's dive in.
First, flash back if you will to a decade ago, plus or minus. While the first decade (or so) of this century might not been great on lasting humor, it was fascinating to see the marriage of old media (book publishing, network television, Hollywood) marry the new (blogs and social media). Got a theme for a blog? It might become a bestseller with a film adaptation. This era of the Internet, now long gone, even let a popular Twitter account not only become a bestselling book but have an ill-advised television show attached to it (NOTE: if the title of your blog has to be censored on the network and you can't use the language that made the account famous, this does not bode well for the show).
The premise is such: down-on-his-luck comedy writer Halpern has to move in with his parents and in spending considerable time with his father as an adult, he purportedly started a Twitter account to keep track of all the funny things his father said to later use in a writing project. To his surprise, the account developed a massive following.
This book deals primarily with the past, however, although there are current quotes as well. We're taken through Halpern's upbringing and various stories from his childhood, his teens, and early adulthood.
A slightly awkward modern jumble occurs at the end with his father telling him "you don't know shit about me" and then proceeds with a kind of non-sequitur about a girlfriend that didn't work out and some advice that is totally out of tone with the rest of the book (listen to people and don't ignore what you hear) and we hear him tell his son that that's how he wants him to end the book (which his son doesn't quite; it ends with his father being incredulous that his son is published).
If you're expecting me to say that what works as a Twitter account doesn't necessarily work as an 158 page book, you would be absolutely correct. But to his credit (somewhat) the fact Halpern plays a bigger role in this than he does in the Twitter account could have gone far worse. For the most part, Halpern lets his father (or the character of his father he has created) steal the show. And yet again, what works in 140 characters (the then Twitter limit) doesn't necessarily translate to a book, particularly long-form stories. A funny "outrageous" Tweet now and then is one thing, 150 long pages of witnessing the elder Halpern tear into coaches, teachers, wait staff, family, young children, and other people in the author's life, throughout his life, is quite another, and it gets old quickly. Also, although there's a recurring theme of how much Halpern's father loves him, and that's why he says stuff like this, after a 150 pages of berating, you just kind of want to ask Halpern if he's okay.
But the author is frankly too busy being downright obsessed with gay people and people thinking he's gay for you to really care, which given how slight he's attempting to make his appearance here (to contrast and highlight his father) is really saying something. There's enough of the creepy sunshine-y homophobia of Judd Apatow's films of the period to power about three of the same. Halpern casually drops slurs and eavesdrops on his gay neighbors having sex (in his defense, he thought one of them sounded like a woman, so he just pretended listening to his neighbors have sex was porn! ...Yikes.) something he feels compelled to share with his father.
Also, while I mentioned that 150 pages of seeing someone berate their son gets tiresome, it's worth noting Halpern is basically the narrator here, at least. He's supposed to be relatable, and there's also the fact that he's making some money off from all of this, so adding in that his father is doing it "lovingly" to him, it sort of hits differently when the father applies that same cantankerous instigating to just about everyone (including, again, aforementioned teachers, coaches, wait staff, family, and young children).
But come on, you say! That's a serious read. This is meant to be humor! Is the book funny?
While there are a few laughs and some of the book can be blamed on format (Twitter to book form), the tediousness is hard to shake. And over a decade later, in a different political universe, it's unfortunately too easy to imagine some of the father's quotes on a badly made Facebook graphic (usually from a page that has "patriots", "freedom", "offended" or all three in the title) being circulated by people who genuinely agree with the sentiments expressed, rather than see them as intended: a humorously inappropriate sentiment from father to son.
Not all comedy ages poorly. A bit from a Silent film can still satisfy over a hundred years later. A memoir about another eccentric, outspoken father has somehow aged comparatively better in over seventy years (with some stories therein over a century old) than this content from barely over a decade.
This was a decent premise for a Twitter account and a stretch as a book that's got humor that was basically aging as it was published (I was honestly surprised to find out the author is as young as he is). Over ten years later, it's a piece of ephemera that's probably best left buried in your father's bedroom where you got it for him for Father's Day from Hollister eleven years ago.
Some comedy is made to age poorly.
Notable: Sometimes it's hard to describe what a distinctly 2000s attempt at "edgy" humor is.
Between the end of my freshman year of high school and the beginning of my junior year, I grew ten inches. Suddenly, I was six feet tall.
"You're starting to look like a man, sort of," my dad told me on my sixteenth birthday, as I bit into a filet mignon he ordered for me at Ruth's Chris Steak House.
The downside of such a quick growth spurt was that I wasn't really in control of my body. I moved around like I was being puppeteered by someone with cerebral palsy. (pg 71)
Oof. There it is. To his credit, he didn't say retarded, I guess.
Thought my dad likes to say he's not a flirt, his way with women is a big family joke. [....]
In addition to loving women, my dad has always had a great affection for waiters and waitresses. he thinks they're hard workers who often get treated poorly by customers, so any time he eats out, he tips 30-40 percent, no matter what. (pg 135)
A couple of things here. Flirting with women is not "loving" them, and what a creepy, super-outdated (like 1960s?) way of putting it. Also, please, PLEASE, please don't flirt with women (or anyone!) in a service job. That person is required to put up with shit, or at least find a way to get away from you that you don't suspect. The very LAST thing they need or want is to have to put up with sexual harassment from someone, especially someone who claims to have "great affection" for wait staff (which given other stories in this book, no he doesn't).
But except for [my friend Patrick], the only other people I saw on a regular basis [in Los Angeles] were the transvestite prostitutes who hung out in front of my apartment complex. One of them approached me a few weeks into my stay, and part of me was actually excited by the prospect of having a conversation with someone new.
"Is this your car?" she asked, pointing to my white Ford Ranger.
"Yeah," I said.
"My girlfriend accidentally threw up on it last night, but I washed it off. Just wanted to say sorry," she said before walking away. (pg 132)
Pretty sure he doesn't know what "transvestite" means, but it could've been so, so much worse, let's just keep going.
[After breaking up with a girlfriend and having to settle at the parents' house] So I went to take a shower, got dressed, and began working on my latest Maxim.com piece, which was, ironically, a flow chart detailing the differences between the male and female brain during an argument. (pg 153)
Like that. That's worse.
Final Grade: D
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