For whatever reason, Amazon WILL NOT allow me to write a review for this book on their site. I have been back and forth with them on this matter. It ended with me kindly relaying to them that they are a lot of ridiculous morons. Sort it, Amazon! Like, DAMN. It's just a few words about an item I purchased. We do not need to bring G and The Band of Miracle Zealots (who are pseudo-experts or shamperts in both funk and technology) into this resolve. I believe it's a simple authorization of privileges, but I'm not an Amazon scientist. So, what do I know?
Anyway, because they are unable to navigate this rather complicated and complex issue, I have posted my review here.
And he writes like jazz too.
We all experience obstacles on our path toward clear and concise communication. In basic, everyday chats, we’re apt to misunderstand each other OR to read too much into OR to overanalyze or misinterpret. The possibilities in human miscommunication prove endless. As a spectator, it’s hilarious, because we have seemingly been equipped with the most tools for interaction, and yet, we constantly reveal our ineptitude in using those tools when we dare to exchange words with each other.
In Talk Like Jazz, we are presented with Joseph Cooper, who has been given an extra verbal hurdle (a stutter). Emblematic of that feature, his stutter trips him at times, but he does not allow it to halt him completely. Through his writing, he shows that he is an expert in expression as he bounds over communication hurdles and past the rest of us with the eloquence and speed of a professional runner.
Seriously, every line in this book is brilliantly fashioned to slide with poise into the next one.
Needless to say, Cooper’s devious and delinquent tongue is a major character in this book. This uncooperative organ amputates him from self and from others. In fact, his tongue works vigorously to twist him up at every verbal encounter, but again, with his pen, he cuts his tongue to speak most freely, articulately, and poetically.
On the surface, Cooper captures and expresses with brutal honesty the tumultuous horrors that accompany adolescence, which is something I appreciate in a book—brazen, no-holds honesty. I have a certain fondness for candor and “going there,” even when it makes me uncomfortable, and Cooper goes there without hesitation. He shows that awkward attempt to connect and know our own bodies, and his strokes are broad but detailed in personal experiences.
In Talk Like Jazz, Cooper has crafted a touching work that portrays and conveys the delights, the heartbreaks, and the abuses that shaped his journey. His book is a revelation in the power of contemplative observation. Cooper knows there’s a solitude and emptiness in the human condition, because he’s lived it. For me, connection is the point to any good work, and from dot-to-dot, he draws those lines. And there’s no doubt in my mind that his life lessons are now eternally woven with a deep, intricate attachment to our collective quilt.