Feels like I've just had the last spoonful of a C. C. Brown hot fudge sundae I've been lingering over for so long, I've lost account of the time. It's been delicious; it's been a reverie, but I've now finished Kritzer Time.
A nostalgic moment that might not have hit other readers as deeply as it did me was when young Benjamin discovers some chords that don't normally go together, accidentally, and writes a song using them. Those were the days!
There were SO many similarities, of course, between my life and Benjamin Kritzer's. Such similar geography, and while I was never in to movies to nearly that extent I did, as a boy, take myself to theatre of interest. By then, the Shubert had been built, which was much more convenient (bike-able). And now they're tearing it down.
The big difference, as I see it, is that whenever I wanted something, be it a stop-watch or a radio, I was always told we couldn't afford it. Soon, I learned to stop asking. As I got older, I noticed my father's penchant for buying himself expensive gifts whenever it took his fancy (ooh, a Cy Coleman reference), whether he was in the chips or not, and my mother's clucking disapproval.
I've had such a wonderful time with the Kritzer books, cried out loud over the epilogue, and very much look forward to the upcoming mysterious book (and record).
