Roger Angell's gentle wit and insight permeate brief vignettes about his family, colleagues, acquaintances, famous political figures and, of course, ballplayers in This Old Man. Among them, he reviews his stepfather E.B. White's One Man's Meat, summing it up as a book that "always had the heft, the light usefulness, of a bushel basket, carrying a raking of daily or seasonal notions." His membership in "the greatest generation" somewhat embarrasses him, with its cavalier acceptance of the devastating firebombing of Japan at the end of the war--and makes him reflect: "Killing more civilians than the other side is what war makes you do, but reaching the decision and then acting on it doesn't make you good or great. It makes you tired and it keeps you awake at night, still crazy after all these years."
Angell's collection winds down with "This Old Man," a piece from the New Yorker. He still has some spunk: "I'm ninety-three, and I'm feeling great. Well, pretty great, unless I've forgotten to take a couple of Tylenols in the past four or five hours... the downside of great age is the room it provides for rotten news. Living long means enough already." Let's hope Angell hasn't really had enough already. There can be no better guiding hand to the other side, especially one who appreciates the rarity of an unassisted triple play and laments instant replay reviews because "umps should always be right, even when they aren't." --Bruce Jacobs, founding partner, Watermark Books & Cafe, Wichita, Kan.