Morrow, 160 pp., $12.95
S.J. Perelman in his time moved more book reviewers to confess incontinence than any other author in the West. While not myself finding this appropriate as a measuring stick, I don't mean to sneer. Indeed, I see now why Antony wanted to bury Caesar, but not to praise him. The task is awesome for reasons neatly captured by a friend of mine who said, when it looked as if I might actually meet the man, 'Gee, not only does he know S.J. Perelman—he is S.J. Perelman.'
Review, 2354 words
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