Saturday, July 30, 2011

I Remember Nothing, by Nora Ephron

Months ago I listened to an audiotape of "I Remember Nothing" and because my memory is, like Ephron's, shall we say, porous, I remember almost nothing about her newest offering.

Here's what I do remember: This collection of essays sparkles. Ephron, as always, is funny, self-effacing, erudite and opinionated. Whether bemoaning her sagging turkey-skin in "I Feel Bad About My Neck," her previous book of essays, or lamenting senior moments in this offering, she does so with humor, grace and flair.

If you're a nonfiction lover like me, you've noticed two things: bookstores don't devote a lot of shelf space to essay collections, and not many of the essayists published are women. So read (or listen to) "I Remember Nothing." If, like me, you're a woman of a certain age, you may not retain the particulars of Ephron's essays, but you'll never forget the enjoyment that comes with reading the work of a master of the form.

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