title: Neck Deep and Other Predicaments: Essays
author:  Ander Monson 
description: <I>Starred Review.</i> This esoteric collection, awarded the second annual Graywolf Press Nonfiction Prize, is described by contest judge Robert Polito as "astonishing," a "dismantling and reinvention of the essay as an instrument for thought." Readers are bound to agree; in his first nonfiction book, poet and novelist Monson (Vacationland) offers a parade of quirky, at times avant-garde methods for exploring his obsessions with everything from frisbee golf ("The Long Crush") to car washes ("The Big and Sometimes Colored Foam: Four Annotated Car Washes") to the lost art of sending telegrams ("Afterword: Elegy for Telegram and Starflight"). He pits working-class values against those of Michigan's suburban upper crust-grappling with his own point throughout-in "Cranbrook Schools: Adventures in Bourgeois Topologies," an ironic, semi-nostalgic look at his pre-expulsion years in an elite boarding school. In "Outline Toward a Theory of the Mine Versus the Mind and the Harvard Outline," a well-crafted outline unpacks the history of mining in northern Michigan. "Index for X and the Origin of Fires" is perhaps the best of the bunch; Monson explains it in his notes as "the original index to my novel, Other Electricities, before it was trimmed out and became this something else. One hopes it still refers to a (or the) recognizable world." Wonderfully recondite and cunningly executed, Monson's work will make a brilliant discovery for open-minded fans of narrative nonfiction. <BR>Copyright &copy; Reed Business Information, a division of Reed Elsevier Inc. All rights reserved.
zlib_text: A	LADY’S	GUIDE	TO	SEDUCING	HER	LORD
  “How	long	will	it	take	to	get	there?”	she	asked.
  “More	than	an	hour.	Torcello	is	the	farthest	lagoon	island	from	Venice.	It’s
  also	the	quietest.	Only	a	small	number	of	people	actually	live	there.”
  “What	shall	we	do	until	we	arrive?”	She	slid	him	a	glance	from	beneath	her
  lashes,	and	Nick	felt	his	blood	begin	to	heat.
  “Why,	I’m	not	sure.”	Turning,	he	nuzzled	her	neck	just	below	her	earlobe.
  He	happened	to	know	exactly	how	much	she	liked	it.
  She	gave	a	long	sigh,	and	her	head	fell	back	against	the	seat	to	allow	him
  better	access.
  “What	would	you	like	to	do	until	we	get	there?”	he	whispered	against	her
  throat.
  “Shall	we	discuss	politics?	You	haven’t	taken	up	your	seat	in	the	House	of
  Lords,	but	I’m	sure—”
  “I	 would	 rather	 swim	 to	 Torcello	 than	 discuss	 politics.	 I’m	 afraid	 you’ll
  have	to	do	better	than	that,	my	dear.”	He	traced	the	curve	of	her	collarbone
  with	 his	 fingertips,	 the	 skin	 so	 soft	 and	 delicate.	 She	 rewarded	 him	 with	 a
  s