The Bear in the Attic

From Publishers Weekly
rolific humorist Patrick McManus (The Deer on a Bicycle) offers another winsome collection of anecdotes and essays on fishing, camping, hunting and other outdoor activities and catastrophes. Childhood hijinks loom especially large in The Bear in the Attic: McManus recalls youthful culinary misadventures that culminated in a rock-hard loaf of bread useful only as a football; faking a cold so that he could finish an overdue book report only to take a disastrous impromptu fishing trip with the eccentric neighborhood woodsman; and other mischief-making. McManus also intersperses more recent tales of the sporting life as well as family life in his native North Idaho. Copyright 2002 Cahners Business Information, Inc.


From Library Journal
More outdoors humor from McManus. Copyright 2002 Reed Business Information, Inc.


Review
"Patrick McManus is a treasure." --The Atlantic Monthly

"Everybody should read Patrick McManus." --The New York Times Book Review

"A style that brings to mind Mark Twain, Art Buchwald, and Garrison Keillor." --People



Book Description
Now in paperback, the beloved humorist’s latest and funniest collection of essays ever—“McManus at his curmudgeonly best” (Spokane Spokesman-Review)

Patrick F. McManus’s wry wit has made him an American classic, his trademark outdoorsman’s humor endearing him not only to fellow wilderness enthusiasts but to anyone who enjoys a good laugh. In his newest collection of hilarious essays, he ponders the strange allure of the RV, a thirtieth-century hunting trip, the art of wrestling toads, the existential implications of being lost, the baffling tendency of animals to outsmart hunters, the singular pleasure of doubling the size of every fish that gets away, and what happens when a bear named Pooky decides to hibernate in the attic.

Combining the curmudgeonly voice of Dave Barry and the clever insights of Garrison Keillor with his own keen sense of the absurd, McManus brilliantly captures the funny and strange in our everyday existence, while managing to evoke a childlike wonder at the natural world.



About the Author
Patrick F. McManus has written twelve books and two plays. There are nearly two million copies of his book in print, including his bestselling The Shoot Canoes, Don't They?; The Night the Bear Ate Goombaw; and A Fine and Pleasant Misery. He divides his time between Spokane, Washington and Idaho.



Excerpted from TheBear in the Attic by Patrick McManus. Copyright © 2003. Reprinted by permission. All rights reserved.
Buck Kelly, a foreman at the logging camp, brought the orphaned bear cub into company headquarters and up to Uncle Charles's office. "I thought I told you to get rid of it," Uncle Charles said. "I couldn't do it," Buck said. "None of the men could either. So we figured we'd let you do it." "Give it to me, then," Uncle Charles ordered. The foreman handed over the tiny bear and then stepped back. He said later he thought Uncle Charles might kill the bear right then and there, given his reputation as a very hard man. Uncle Charles cupped the bear in once hand and examined it. "Don't even have its eyes open yet," he said. "It's a mighty cute littler bugger, though, I'll give it that. You know, Buck, many a critter's been saved for no other reason than the good luck of being cute. Not a few dumb and useless people, too, for that matter. My wife comes to mind."


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After 15 collected frolics (Into the Twilight, Endlessly Grousing, 1997, etc.), McManus returns, still camping in territory as daunting as his own backyard. As usual, this is a comic backpack full of ineptitude in thick woods. With old reliable stock players like wife Bun, Retch Sweeney, Rancid Crabtree, and Crazy Eddie Muldoon, supported by Dicky Scroon Esq. and cousin Vile, McManus hikes past Starvation Flats to bivouac betwixt Mt. Horrible and Mt. Misery. In the author's blistered hands, the environs of Blight, Idaho, are as real as those of Lake Woebegon or Yoknapatawpha County. Blight County is where our woodland M￯﾿ﾽnchhausen does some of his hunting and fishing and most of his talking. He discusses his considerable concern with fearsome bears and comments at length on his bewildered feet. But along with contemplation on matters ursine and podiatric, McManus also communes with nature, insects in particular. He offers one chapter comprised of two sentences nearly sufficient to compete in length, though not topic, with Molly Bloom's closing monologue in Ulysses. The Maupassant of Outdoor Life (where most of these pieces first appeared) presents stories in fine country style about mud, wiener stews, and Bob the celebrated wrestling toad of Blight County. In the personal-history department, we're told that young Pat learned to drive in a truck that had a first gear so low it "could almost climb trees, and occasionally made the attempt." Like many grown men, McManus has the psyche of a ten-year-old, and the tall tales of his youth when everything cost fifteen cents will evoke smiles. He is adept at baiting and playing out his pieces until he hooks readers. It's a game of catch and releasewith his audience. For the reader who once wore a mackinaw or grasped a shotgun shell or bamboo fishing pole, McManus once again offers a camp right at home-and real bucolic fun.


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