At Least in the City Someone Would Hear Me Scream

March 30, 2009
Having escaped the idiocy of rural life in his growing-up-gay-in-the-Ozarks memoir America's Boy
, the author returns to it in this flamboyant fish-out-of-water saga. Inspired by Thoreau, Rouse and his partner moved to a cottage near the Michigan resort town of Saugatuck in order to simplify; wean himself from his addictions to shopping, tanning and cable; and resolve childhood traumas by being brashly gay in a nonurban setting. Saugatuck is actually quite gay-friendly, but trials abound: the eerie quiet of the countryside, the apocalyptic snows, a marauding raccoon fended off with lip balm and breath spray, the scarcity of gourmet yuppie-chow, the humiliation of wearing waders instead of Kenneth Cole boots, the slow, unfashionable locals who ask, rather perceptively, “'Don't you ever take anything seriously... things that don't affect only you?'” Rouse's battle with his own narcissism is a losing one; indeed, it feels like the real point of offering his pink-outfitted self to the suspicious gazes of hunters and other yokels is simply to accentuate what a fascinating spectacle he is. Alas, Rouse's comically campy, but rarely truly funny, writing is so trite that few readers will share his self-involvement.

April 15, 2009
Tongue-in-cheek memoir of a middle-aged gay man who, inspired by Thoreau, moved to rural Michigan to pursue his writing and the simple life.

Rouse (Confessions of a Prep School Mommy Handler, 2007, etc.) jettisoned urban pleasures and set out with his partner to craft a new life in the woods. The narrative is organized around ironic"life lessons" drawn from his reading of Thoreau and supplemented by research from the Encyclopedia Britannica and Wikipedia. Along the way, he was ravaged by a raccoon, shopped at a warehouse store, went ice fishing and built a snowman,"complete with a very impressive thick stick penis." His meandering text offers various observations on the differences between city and country life. Urbanites have fashion, credit-card debt and neighbors who never intrude. Country dwellers are so benighted they can't even deal with his tiny little list of 21 items his local grocery should carry—typical entry:"Silver Palate rough-cut oatmeal (must be the slow-cook kind, not the instant." When the clerk responded with mild mockery, he considered"pushing the bowling pencil into her jugular… [I] am convinced that if I explained all of this to a jury of my peers, I would be acquitted. But I know I have no'peers.'" Rouse apparently aspires to reconfirm tired stereotypes about backward country people and flamboyant gay men. He also indulges in occasional flurries of tepid misogyny (a comment about dull female birds, an encounter with a lesbian sewer expert). The author's attitude and tone, including his liberal use of uninspired profanity, is encapsulated in the opening description of himself as"a self-obsessed gay man who intentionally bedazzled himself in $1,000 worth of trendy clothing just to walk the trash out in the middle of fucking nowhere!"

Inauthentic and overblown.

(COPYRIGHT (2009) KIRKUS REVIEWS/NIELSEN BUSINESS MEDIA, INC. ALL RIGHTS RESERVED.)

May 1, 2009
What happens when a gay man leaves city life behind to embrace the rural lifestyle and philosophy of Thoreau? Rouse ("America's Boy: A Memoir") said good-bye to his public relations job and, in an attempt to get serious about his writing, relocated with his partner to a cabin ten miles outside of a resort community in Michigan. Envision "Green Acres" for the 21st century. Most of the essays here offer variations on the theme of choosing the appropriate footwear for the job, as when Rouse discovers that Kenneth Cole boots are not the top choice for a day of ice fishing. Readers will encounter a dizzying assortment of brand names and references to cable television reality stars, so some of the humor may appeal only to those who appreciate a fabulous shopping spree or watching the beautiful people on the tube. This is David Sedaris meets Dave Barrythe humor is not subtle, but every page is good for a laugh.Susan Belsky, Oshkosh P.L., WI

Copyright 2009 Library Journal, LLC Used with permission.

May 1, 2009
As he turns 40, Rouse (Confessions of a Prep School Mommy Handler, 2007) admits to becoming the ultimate clich': hes mentally and physically exhausted, hates his job, and realizes there is a void in his life that the city is no longer filling. He and his partner, Gary, take a vacation in Saugatuck, Michigan, a Midwestern Marthas Vineyard, and on the spot decide to sell their home in St. Louis and move to the woods. Rouse vows to become a modern-day Thoreau and sets out to follow 10 life goals, roughly along the tenets espoused by Thoreau in Walden, Rouses favorite book. Rouse chronicles the hilarious escapades of these two neurotic urbanites as they ensconce themselves in the woods without magazine subscriptions, malls, Trader Joes, HGTV, or lattes. Rouse feels like a Martian confronting the locals at the general store, and suffers extreme anxiety when attempting ice fishing and karaoke. Gay or straight, any reader who has tried to fit in somewhere outside his or her comfort zone will readily empathize with Rouses rousing and ultimately successful lifestyle change.(Reprinted with permission of Booklist, copyright 2009, American Library Association.)