A Jealousy for Aesop


A Jealousy for Aesop

W. C. Bamberger


     A woman who canít refuse any stray animal-including a bull. But what about her husband? A bachelor who opens a "Correspondences School" for his lonely friends. A woman whose lion taming act shocks even Europe. These stories & others always include a playful mix of plot & form to delight you.


ISBN 0-930501-13-6, trade paper, $9.95                    Sale $5.00

About the Author: 

W.C. Bamberger is the author of five books of criticism and fiction, including Riding Some Kind of Unusual Skull Sleigh:  On the Arts of Don Van Vliet and the short story collection A Jealousy for Aesop.  He is currently writing a biography of perceptual theorist Adelbert Ames, Jr., and a new novel.  He is editor and publisher of Bamberger Books, and lives in Whitmore Lake, Michigan, with his daughter. 

 Excerpt From the Book:


ďMy wife Frances walks through the house like a benevolent queen. She lifts and squeezes and cuddles every living thing Ė except me. She steps high like a majorette, to clear the muzzle that follows her every move like rader. Every canine eyes is on the seat of her toreador pants.Ē
            Thatís the sound of my storytelling voice. On a good night I can keep that up for hours. On a bad night only the simple truth comes out, and everyone turns away.
            I dropped out of an archeology program in my third year because Iíd convinced myself I was a natural-born stand-up comic. Now Iím just another ex-college man  in the construction business Ė but I still tell tell my stories. A good story tops an after-work bar stag like a foaming head tops a draft beer. A single manís stories has to sound like a tales of brave Ulysses, a married manís like a leaf from the book of job:
            ďFrances proceeds slowly from the dogs in the den to the cats in the kitchen, petting each in turn, finally spending the later part of the afternoon with the birds that live in the bathroom among the plants. She chases them through humid Boston ferns and wandering jews, using a flat toothpick for their games of tag. Something Frances is so busy eith her birds that she has no time to fix my dinner, and Iím left with their namesakes Ė Swans down and Birdseye Ė while she goes off to comfort a loon thatís gone mad at the sight of bubble bath.Ē
            My stories are all rooted in fact, through I do exaggerate for the sake of the tale. I exaggerate, too,  because it helps keep the frustration at armís length, make it all seems comic, even to me. I play a fool the fool in all my stories and this too is based on fact: I personally handed Frances each and every one of the orphaned animals sheís taken in. My business generates orphans. Iím in excavating and grading. My roadbeds and sewers lines break up the countryside and bisect framersí fields, cut across the sagging fences of country living. Iím the wrecker of a thousand happy forest homes.