Into Hot Air: Another “Novel” by Chris Elliott by Chris Elliott

I loved Chris Elliot in Get a Life. I didn’t know he was also a talented and creative writer. This novel is just plain funny. Elliott takes a serious, introspective topic - ascending Mount Everest - and turns it into a laugh riot. The story, despite its outlandish plot, flows well. Every page made me laugh on some level of the laugh scale - from guffaw, to chortle, to laugh out loud. Elliott takes us from the genesis of his journey, when he discovers his great-uncle Percy’d diary, who presumably summitted Mouny Everest, through his gathering of a team to climb with him - including a mix of celebrities, each with their own particular role to play on the climb, especially as foils to each other, to the inevitable hazards encountered on the ascent, including some outrageous episodes that could only have been conceived by Elliot’s mind. If you read the book now (March of 2008) there is an eerie sense of prophecy in some of the events that unfold. I don’t want to give it away, but if you are keeping up with news about Tibet (where Mount Everest is located) you’ll know what I mean. If you want to laugh consistently while reading a humor book, pick up (and read) Into Hot Air.

Shroud of the Thwacker, The by Chris Elliott

The Shroud of the Thwacker is the debut novel from the not-so critically acclaimed Chris Elliot…and, well, it’s actually good! I’ll admit that I got this book as a present, and probably wouldn’t have picked it up on my own. In fact I read it half as a favor to the person who gave it to me, and half out of boredom, but I must admit that I actually enjoyed it.

This book outpaces all of Chris Elliott’s other works. That’s right, it’s better than Cabin Boy! All right, I know what you’re thinking, Cabin Boy sucked. How about this: it’s better than There’s Something About Mary! Not your cup of chai, then I have one more for you: The Shroud of the Thwacker is even better than Get a Life. Yes, you heard me correctly, and I know I might get tarred and feathered for this but Chris Elliott’s new book eclipses that flash-in-the-pan 1990’s sitcom.

Now that I have your attention I can tell you a little about the book. The set up is this: Chris Elliott (the author) is investigating the notorious Gilded Age murders of the Thwacker. We follow both Chris’ investigation in the present as well as that of several “historical” characters (including a pre-presidential [and pre-Spanish American War] Teddy Roosevelt) who were hot on the trail of the infamous serial killer.

The Shroud of the Thwacker is basically a parody of Caleb Carr’s Alienist novels, historical fiction, popular history, fictional history, and steals a bit of From Hell. The book is crammed from first to last page with jokes, and if one doesn’t strike your fancy the next one probably will. He manages to fit wry literary allusions (”the price of oil had skyrocketed ever since the sinking of the Pequod”) next to a running gag about Teddy Roosevelt’s flatulence. Elliott’s main purpose is to tell jokes, but at a certain points he lets a bit of social commentary slip through. He skewers historians who often wear rose colored glasses when writing about the past (one of my pet peeves) by playing up the most unpleasant aspects of late 19th century New York. Instead of the Statute of Liberty, Elliott instead claims that New York had a statute of Nathan Forrest, the leader of the Ku Klux Klan. There are also giant wooden cell phones, time traveling, Yoko Ono, and other bits of wackiness.

Of course, the plot makes absolutely no sense, but in the end it doesn’t really matter (several plot holes are actually made fun of). Chris Elliott manages to write an imaginative, joke filled, crass and clever book. Hey, maybe I’ve been underestimating this guy. Maybe I’ll go out and rent Cabin Boy again. (”Would you like to buy a monkey?”) On second thought, maybe not.

Daddy’s Boy: A Son’s Shocking Account of Life with a Famous Father by Chris Elliott

And that’s the reason Chris interpolated THE POSEIDON ADVENTURE into DADDY’S BOY. Pamela Sue was at the apogee of her scrumptiousness in 1973. In the squeezy-wet summer of her sweet goosey youth. Don’t be fooled by Chris’s distractionary references to “the leggy blonde in the wedgie sandals”. Carol Lynley means nothing to Chris. There’s only you, Pamela Sue. Only you.

If Bobby Darin was a triple-threat, Bobby Elliott was a megatuple-threat: “When I entered his world, he was at his height. You couldn’t turn on the radio without hearing his deep manly baritone belting out a lilting romantic lullaby. You couldn’t go to the movies without seeing his rock-solid shoulders and receding hairline fill the screen, and you couldn’t go to the supermarket without seeing his cherubic face emblazoned on the labels of Bob Elliott’s Famous Salad Dressing, or Bob Elliott’s Popcorn, Chewing Tobacco, and Turkey Franks. He monopolized the talk shows and gossip columns. His appearance could turn a boring party into an ‘event’. He composed, he performed, he lifted weights, and he painted all the murals in the lobby of the RCA Building. He was King of Comedy, King of Drama, and Teen Beat’s Hunk-of-the-Month at age 53.”

Let it also be known that Chris shamelessly borrowed a bit of shtick from THE HAUNTING OF HILL HOUSE: “He [Wulfgang Herbert] also felt that since there were no right angles in nature, there should be no right angles in anything man-made, including architecture. Every attempt at constructing a Herbert school without right angles met with disaster before the school could be completed, and so classes were held outside, literally on 68th and Lexington.”

Chris appropriated Monty Python’s Trim-Jeans joke with complete peace of mind: “Still later that night, with my mind lost in the parking lot of the Bates Motel, my nostrils filled with the familiar Mum aroma. I woke immediately, and there, standing in the doorway, was Daddy. He was naked except for a pair of inflatable undershorts. (The undershorts were something he had seen advertised on television. Supposedly, if you wore them to bed, you could lose weight in your sleep.) He stood swaying in the doorway for an eternity. Then, in a hushed voice, almost a whisper, he implored: ‘If you eat spaghetti, please watch out for the bay leaves!’ He turned and was gone as suddenly as he had appeared.”

But the best reason to hate Chris is for the following passage: “The twins, A and B, shaved their heads, moved to Iran, and opened a chain of Bob’s Big Boys, and the rest of the thugs were at Stanford Medical School trying to come up with a cure for those obnoxious people who insist on closing their eyes whenever they talk.”

It just so happens that some of those eye-closers are thinking of Pamela Sue Martin. And there’s nothing wrong with that. Isn’t that right, Chris.

Buttery Wholesomeness by Christopher Elliott; Todd Shaughnessy; Daniel Thron

What could make HoL better? More rules, more fun and more of the most incredibly clever writing in an RPG! All of that can be found between the slick covers of ‘Buttery wHoLesomeness’. The simple rules of HoL are expanded with more options, more fun and more incredible surprises. I gave my copy to my daughter and will be buying another copy for myself!

Biography - Elliott, Chris (1960-): An article from: Contemporary Authors Online by Gale Reference Team