You can put this little book by your bed, in the bathroom, in your pocket or purse, wherever it's easily at hand so you can consider the bits and pieces of your relationship with your own beloved. The A to Z of this big city romance is like a foamy broth of koans, coffee, smiles, and aspirin. It can cure a headache and sweeten the heart, and the moral of the story is you can do it yourself. The illustrations by Sophy Naess, like the work of Maira Kalman, reveal one last ingredient of Elinor Nauen's gumbo--quirky joy. Take for instance:
Beginning, in the. One day in 1983, I told my friend I was unable to read anything but the tabloids. Are you in love? she said.
Sex. I wonder what he thinks about when we make love. One time last week I started thinking about what socks I was going to wear the next day, but usually I only think about him. I mean, I don't even really think, I think.
Zaftig. This Yiddish word means deliciously plump and juicy, with a connotation of, well, stacked. A dish, in other words, which is probably Y Johnny married me (See Sex).
Elinor Nauen, a poet and journalist, usually focuses her work on cars and baseball and Johnny, her beloved. She lives in New York City where she hangs out at the Poetry Project, the local synagogue, and Yankee Stadium when she can afford the tickets.
