The life and times of the thunderbolt kid

av (forfatter).

2006 Innbundet

Gjennomsnittlig terningkast: 4.36 (11 terningkast.)

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Omtale fra Den Norske Bokdatabasen

I denne boken reiser forfatteren tilbake i tid, til den vanlige guttungen han en gang var, og til den besynderlige amerikanske 50-tallsvirkeligheten. Det var en lykkelig tid, da nesten alt var sunt, deriblant DDT, sigaretter og atomnedfall. Den handler om å vokse opp på et spesielt sted i en spesiell tid, men i forfatterens hender blir dette historien til hver enkelt av oss.

Omtale fra forlaget

I denne boken reiser forfatteren tilbake i tid, til den vanlige guttungen han en gang var, og til den besynderlige amerikanske 50-tallsvirkeligheten. Det var en lykkelig tid, da nesten alt var sunt, deriblant DDT, sigaretter og atomnedfall. Den handler om å vokse opp på et spesielt sted i en spesiell tid, men i forfatterens hender blir dette historien til hver enkelt av oss.

Bokdetaljer

Utgivelsesår 2006

Format Innbundet

ISBN13 9780385608268

EAN 9780385608268

Omtalt tid Etterkrigstiden

Omtalt sted USA

Omtalt person Bill Bryson

Språk Engelsk

Utgave 1

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In Indiana you could be sent to prison for fourteen years for aiding or instigating any person under twenty-one years of age to “commit masturbation.” The Roman Catholic Archdiocese of Indiana declared at about the same time that sex outside marriage was not only sinful, messy, and reproductively chancy, but also promoted Communism. Quite how a shag in the haymow helped the relentless march of Marxism was never specified, but it hardly mattered. The point was that once an action was deemed to promote Communism, you knew you were never going to get anywhere near it.

Because lawmakers could not bring themselves to discuss these matters openly, it was often not possible to tell what exactly was being banned. Kansas had (and for all I know still has) a statute vowing to punish, and severely, anyone “convicted of the detestable and abominable crime against nature committed with mankind or with beast,” without indicating even vaguely what a detestable and abominable crime against nature might be.

Bulldozing a rain forest? Whipping your mule? There was simply no telling.

Godt sagt! (1) Varsle Svar

The other teachers—all women, all spinsters—were large, lumpy, suspicious, frustrated, dictatorial, and unkind. They smelled peculiar, too—a mixture of camphor and mentholated mints, and had the curious belief (which may well have contributed to their spinsterhood) that a generous dusting of powder was as good as a bath. Some of these women had been powdering up for years and, believe me, it didn’t work.

They insisted on knowing strange things, which I found bewildering. If you asked to go to the restroom, they wanted to know whether you intended to do Number 1 or Number 2, a curiosity that didn’t strike me as entirely healthy. Besides, these were not terms used in our house. In our house, you either went toity or had a BM (for bowel movement), but mostly you just “went to the bathroom” and made no public declarations with regard to intent. So I hadn’t the faintest idea, the first time I requested permission to go, what the teacher meant when she asked me if I was going to do number one or number two.

“Well, I don’t know,” I replied frankly and in a clear voice. “I need to do a big BM. It could be as much as a three or a four.”

Godt sagt! (1) Varsle Svar

All the Willoughbys - mother, father, four boys - were touched with brilliance. I used to think we had a lot of books in our house because of our two big bookcases in the living room. Then I went to the Willoughbys' house. They had books and bookcases everywhere in the hallways and stairwells, in the bathroom, the kitchen, around all the walls of the living room. Moreover, theirs were works of real weight Russian novels, books of history and philosophy, books in French. I realized then that we were hopelessly outclassed.

Godt sagt! (1) Varsle Svar

I knew and could take you at once to any illustration of naked women anywhere in our house, from a Rubens painting of fleshy chubbos in Masterpieces of World Painting to a cartoon by Peter Arno in the latest issue of The New Yorker to my father’s small private library of girlie magazines in a secret place known only to him, me, and 111 of my closest friends in his bedroom.

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