From Publishers Weekly
A hotshot entertainment editor (at Variety and later People) chucks corner offices in New York and L.A. and phone calls from Warren Beatty to burn brush and butcher pigs in Maine and lives to tell about it. City slicker–in-the-woods has been done before, as Alexander readily admits, but it's done here with honesty, charm and a good dose of self-deprecation. In short essays originally published in the Portland Phoenix, Alexander tells how, in the late 1990s, he moved to Maine with his family to get away from "the frayed excess" of city life; he ended up, as the local plumber put it, in "a real shit sandwich" of a house on 150 semiwooded acres. While Alexander continues freelance writing, he also dedicates himself to becoming a small-time farmer. Not surprisingly, the local residents—hardworking, taciturn and thrifty ("When folks in my town heard that a teaspoonful of anthrax could wipe out the whole state, they appreciated its frugality")—are the heroes of the book, teaching Alexander what he needs to know. Alexander, in turn, does his part by running for selectman, which reinforces his "sense of place." This is a wise, enjoyable chronicle of the search for a meaningful life: "to both fight and surrender in the same moment. It's as good a recipe as any for living well." Copyright © Reed Business Information, a division of Reed Elsevier Inc. All rights reserved.
The (Portland) Maine Sunday Telegram
The new voice of a new generation fleeing skyscrapers. "Man Bites Log" is as honest as it is thoughtful.
Kirkus Reviews
"These well-turned vignettes of a transplanted cityman...have an enduring simplicity and allure."
Library Journal
The characters are solid and appealing, and readers will enjoy getting to know them.
Book Description
Max Alexander had been the executive editor of Variety and was the senior editor at People magazine in charge of all Hollywood coverage, when he decided one day that the glitz of Tinseltown and the glamour of New York didn't quite hold the allure they once had. So Alexander turned down yet another fancy magazine job, and family in tow, moved to a farmhouse in rural Maine, where he suddenly found himself forced to confront neighbors who "speak slowly but are hard to understand, and drive slower but are impossible to pass." In the course of this both sobering and hilarious how-not-to, Alexander covers the gamut, from doing his best to avoid burning down the barn, and occasional intrusions from his previous life, to what E.B. White calls the "basic satisfaction of farming"-manure. Approaching what passes for small-town life in rural New England with the gusto and nose for a scoop of a seasoned Hollywood reporter, Alexander puts a new spin on the tradition launched by Thoreau's reportage from Walden. Man Bites Log is an essential collection for readers of back-to-the-land literature, and anyone convinced that la dolce vita can be found in a pile of dung.
Man Bites Log: The Unlikely Adventures of a City Guy in the Woods FROM THE PUBLISHER
Max Alexander had been the executive editor of Variety and was the senior editor at People magazine in charge of all Hollywood coverage, when he decided one day that the glitz of Tinseltown and the glamour of New York didn't quite hold the allure they once had. So Alexander turned down yet another fancy magazine job, and family in tow, moved to a farmhouse in rural Maine, where he suddenly found himself forced to confront neighbors who "speak slowly but are hard to understand, and drive slower but are impossible to pass." In the course of this both sobering and hilarious how-not-to, Alexander covers the gamut, from doing his best to avoid burning down the barn, and occasional intrusions from his previous life, to what E. B. White calls the "basic satisfaction of farming"-manure. Approaching what passes for small-town life in rural New England with the gusto and nose for a scoop of a seasoned Hollywood reporter, Alexander puts a new spin on the tradition launched by Thoreau's reportage from Walden. Man Bites Log is an essential collection for readers of back-to-the-land literature, and anyone convinced that la dolce vita can be found in a pile of dung.
FROM THE CRITICS
Publishers Weekly
A hotshot entertainment editor (at Variety and later People) chucks corner offices in New York and L.A. and phone calls from Warren Beatty to burn brush and butcher pigs in Maine and lives to tell about it. City slicker-in-the-woods has been done before, as Alexander readily admits, but it's done here with honesty, charm and a good dose of self-deprecation. In short essays originally published in the Portland Phoenix, Alexander tells how, in the late 1990s, he moved to Maine with his family to get away from "the frayed excess" of city life; he ended up, as the local plumber put it, in "a real shit sandwich" of a house on 150 semiwooded acres. While Alexander continues freelance writing, he also dedicates himself to becoming a small-time farmer. Not surprisingly, the local residents-hardworking, taciturn and thrifty ("When folks in my town heard that a teaspoonful of anthrax could wipe out the whole state, they appreciated its frugality")-are the heroes of the book, teaching Alexander what he needs to know. Alexander, in turn, does his part by running for selectman, which reinforces his "sense of place." This is a wise, enjoyable chronicle of the search for a meaningful life: "to both fight and surrender in the same moment. It's as good a recipe as any for living well." Agent, Stacey Glick. (Nov.) Copyright 2004 Reed Business Information.
Library Journal
Leaving behind the big city and the hardships of a six-digit income to rough it in provincial Maine, Alexander takes us on a familiar journey-but he does it well. This memoir by the former senior editor of People magazine is a rich character study of the Mainers whom Alexander encounters over a five-year span. Alexander's neighbors are Cliff, who shrugs off colon cancer, and Janet, who had bypass surgery but still manages to collect venison for her mincemeat pies. Instead of writing a thesis on farming, Nanney Kennedy, a single mother, sheep farmer, and crafter, decided simply to farm when her papers burned down with her house; she made it to Oprah for a segment about women "who are living their dreams." Alexander also describes his involvement in local politics when a granite quarry comes to town. The characters are solid and appealing, and readers will enjoy getting to know them. As Alexander struggles with his "Green Acres Syndrome," the Mainers simply exist beyond the analysis. Recommended for public libraries.-Loree Davis, Broward Cty. Lib., Fort Lauderdale, FL Copyright 2004 Reed Business Information.
Kirkus Reviews
Fast-track editor Alexander downshifts to the back-road life of a Maine farmer, though he keeps his journalist's pen busy. As a young showbiz editor at Variety and People, he already possessed considerable personal insight: "I was apprenticing to be an asshole." So Alexander and his family upped and moved north to Maine and a farm that had seen better times. Short descriptions of his days, originally published in the Portland Phoenix, range over subjects from burning the blueberry patch to contra dancing. The author is the proverbial rube in the land of hardscrabble survivors, picking up scraps of wisdom, though he feels he will never be accepted. Yet, between magazine assignments (which come in an enviable horn of plenty), Alexander works hard at connecting with his new home; he might forget to engage the mower blades when cutting-or, rather, not cutting-the lawn, but he will also plant and sow, fight the good fight against a strip-mine proposal, and even run for selectman, an act of considerable jeopardy to his ego. At times he can be sanctimonious ("Farmers also go to college these days. The nation's agricultural schools, supported heavily by agribusiness, teach them how to be profitable [but] there's no textbook on how to hose out the sheep shed without disturbing the robin's nest"), but he can also admit his inadequacies. The citizenry keep him up to speed, whether it's the "septic analyst" who advises a new system after he "noticed some black gunk oozing up from the ground. It was crude but definitely not oil," or the neighbor who counsels him to simply accept his primitive wood-and-gas stove. "My mother had one of those stoves," says Ken. "Sure, every now and then she'd blow thedoors off the house, but who gives a shit?" These well-turned vignettes of a transplanted cityman won't bump E.B. White or Noel Perrin from the top shelf, but they have an enduring simplicity and allure.