And he’s here today with a new book, A Congress of Wonders (161 pages. Counterpoint. $21), two novellas and a short story, all of which feature as prime mover that colossus of chicanery, Prof. Philander Cosmo Rexroat, B.S., M.S. and PeeAitch-Dee, herpetologist, philatelist, minister of the Gospel and licensed practitioner of colonic irrigation. In the garish precinct of Rexroat’s midway peepshow., we meet a Fallen Woman, a Lost Soul and a Boy Coming of Age. Magically, Rexroat’s phony sorcery turns out in every case to truly transform these benighted citizens. As you will be, too, dear reader, for McClanahan is more than Rexroat’s equal in the art of verbal sorcery. When Rexroat spiels his oily pitch or when poor Juanita Sparks, the town’s “hoosegow scullery maid,” is swearing to herself- and spelling out the cusswords, as a lady should, if she could spell: “It’d serve her right, the old b-i-c-t-h” -you believe every word. From this verbal prestidigitator, we imbibe the lesson that both storyteller and con man make us willing victims. The big difference is the aften-math: McClanahan lightens not merely your wallet but your heart as well. Quaff of this literary elixir. You won’t regret it. And don’t forget to tell your friends.
