Hello all! Time for another entry in our illustrious Book Review entry. Today’s entry is on “My Imaginary Friend Was Too Cool to Hang Out With Me” by Charles Freericks. It is an autobiography/personal memoir tale of his journey from childhood to semi-adult in and around the town of Paramus, New Jersey.
My overall thoughts: If you’re like me, you’ll occasionally use the “Search Inside” feature of Amazon to determine if you want to read that particular book. This useful tool has kept me from reading some un-inspirational stuff and occasionally allows my curiosity to rise and read further. The latter happens about 10 percent of the time. “Imaginary Friend” was an entirely new experience for me. I ABSOLUTELY WANTED TO CONTINUE. In fact, I moved it up on my TBR list to get to it sooner (apologies to the books that got bumped but not discarded). Don’t believe me? See for yourself.
The Good Part of the Book Review:
It will instantly grab you with its hilarious take of everyday things. Young Chuck has an imaginative – and often wrong – way of seeing the world that is truly unique, yet relate able. Follow him as he makes orange juice soup, rationalizes wetting himself, interacts with his parents and grandparents, and damages major household appliances with a pencil. And that’s just the earlier childhood stuff. Other highs and lows include saying goodbye to the family car, attending baseball camp, and rallying the family around the consequences of a fart.
The Bad Part of the Book Review:
I’m scratching my head like mad trying to come up with some. My one true complaint is that not enough people have read it. I would have also LOVED some family pictures, since I don’t know what a Plymouth Valiant 100 is and am too lazy to Google it. My other semi-related complaint is that Freericks is funny enough to write fiction, movies, and anything else. I await these projects with as much patience as I can muster. Fair warning: it’s not much.
Verdict on the Book Review:
Get the book. Get it now. Stop reading this and go to Amazon. You don’t have to be from New Jersey, have been a dorky kid, or even like personal memoirs to enjoy this work. FYI, only one out of the above three does not apply to me.