Regardless, check out one of my favorite writers in the world....
PATRICK CANEDAY
I live down the street from a famous writer. Not only is he a genius writer but he's the kind of friend you want to sit down with and share a bottle of wine and cheese on the heaviest plate in the world in his front lawn and yell at speeding cars. I could go on and on about his book, Crooked Little Birdhouse, but instead I'll let a Pulitzer Prize Winner and a published author tell you how great it is. After all, you haven't tried the glue-on toenails yet based on my recommendation. :)
"I love Patrick Caneday's work. He seeks out the humanity in us and writes about it in the kind of seamless prose that any author would envy, in a style that only a few can achieve. I have always looked forward to reading his columns and now I have them at hand to consider them in pleasure. Thanks, Patrick, for the immensity of the gift you have given us and continue to give."
From STEVE LOPEZ, Los Angeles Times columnist and author of "The Soloist":
“Patrick Caneday writes from the heart. His stories, carefully and gracefully revealed, are about the things that ground and unite us all: family, tradition, place, community. This is a collection you’ll reach for again and again.”
ABOUT THE BOOK: Whether the subject is a bruised knee or a bruised ego, the death of a loved one or the death of a goldfish, his challenged faith, delusions of grandeur or addiction to grilled meat, Patrick Caneday finds a way to make the mundane and ordinary meaningful. In Crooked Little Birdhouse, Caneday brings together a collection of the most popular pieces from his weekly newspaper column and adds a series of new essays. The result is a life story weaved through random insights on the world, people and a birdhouse. With trademark wit and poignant observation, he's not afraid to offer himself as proof of our shared suffering, humanity and survival, in a book that is more memoir than compilation. While others tell us what’s wrong with the world, Caneday shows us what’s right.
