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Black Lamb


Now in its 14th year of publication, this magazine was created to offer the discerning reader a stimulating selection of excellent original writing. Black Lamb Review is a literate rather than a literary publication. Regular columns by writers in a variety of geographic locations and vocations are supplemented by features, reviews, articles on books and authors, and a selection of “departments,” including an acerbic advice column and a lamb recipe.


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Archive for November, 2013

November 2013 in Black Lamb

Volume 11, Number 11 — November 2013

November 1st, 2013

The All-Europe Issue

In November’s All-Europe Issue, Dean Suess sums up his four visits with the sentences I came. I saw. I ate. In The poor people of Paris, Greg Roberts argues that Europeans live like peasants compared to Americans. Emily Emerson says in C’est quoi, Obamacare? that for medical reasons, she’s glad she lives in France. Toby Tompkins gets to appear in a scene from one of his favorite books in St. Serendipity in Palermo. In Wild rides, John M. Daniel describes a scary brush with drug trafficking. Rod Ferrandino says in I dare say that the youth of Great Britain sound a great deal more articulate than their American counterparts. In Travel cuisine Elizabeth Fournier describes her search as a girl for junk food in Europe.

Two more figures from the world of literature — American novelist Kurt Vonnegut and Scottish writer Robert Louis Stevenson — are welcomed into our gallery of Honorary Black Lambs. In Keep your hands to yourself! advice columnist Millicent Marshall criticizes the new American penchant for inappropriate hugging. And Prof. Avram Khan gives us another challenging word puzzle.

Posted by: The Editors
Category: All Europe Issue, Month summaries | Link to this Entry

The poor people of Paris

Compared to Americans, Europeans live like peasants.

November 1st, 2013


In the 1970s our family worked for rich people who kept summer homes near Three Lakes, Wisc. Yard work, housework, boat and pier work — we were the avant garde of today’s Mexicans. Not exactly; we were good friends with the boss, a bank president, and he invited us to many an elaborate cook-out with porterhouse steaks the size of Frisbees and glasses of port from the 1930s.

skullscatacombsparis*Jack, the banker, loved fishing and hunting in the British Isles, and during one of his many trips there he bought some springer spaniels. He imported not only these goofy, high-strung animals, he also brought back the gamekeeper and his wife. They would stay on for the summer to train the pups and help set up a pheasant run on one of Jack’s properties.

Alan, the Englishman, visited our house one day and was amazed at what he found. A Ford pickup, a Buick Park Avenue, boats on trailers, snowmobiles, and fine shotguns hanging on the living room walls. He was pole-axed by such wealth in the hands of people who did the same kind of work as he. “Good Lord, everyone is rich in this country,” he said, as if it were leprosy. And later I heard his wife mutter, “Our last big dream was to buy a sewing machine, and we saved the whole year to do it.”

That’s Europeans for you. In spite of the Magna Carta, they never had anything and never will. And they seem to be getting worse. A bicycle ride to the cafe, an espresso and cigarette, and a conversation on Twitter. Man, that’s living! And now it’s time to pedal back home to Mama and Papa, to the same crappy apartment and small room you grew up in.

Read the rest of this entry »

Posted by: The Editors
Category: All Europe Issue, Roberts | Link to this Entry


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