Shakespeare and Co. Booksellers

Here’s an excerpt from “I Feel Good About My Murse” in Michael Chabon’s new memoir.  (Murse=man purse, for those of you who may not be familiar with the lingo.) 

[pgs. 151-152]  One of the fundamental axioms of masculine self-regard is that the tools and appurtenances of a man’s life must be containable within the pockets of his jacket and pants.  Wallet, keys, gum, show or ball game tickets, Kleenex, condoms, cell phone, maybe a lighter and a pack of cigarettes: Just cram it all in there, motherfucker.  When I was a smoker—a long time ago—I used to predicate every purchase of a shirt, tee, or button-down on whether or not it featured a front pocket to hold my pack of Winston Lights.  Take away everything, cigarettes, phone, even keys, a man remains a man so long as he keeps his wallet pressed up against his body.  A wallet is a man’s totem, his distillation.  It pockets his soul as surely as he pockets it.

The necessary corollary to this inviolate principle is that no man, ever, ought to carry a purse.  Purses are for women; a purse is basically a vagina with a strap.  If you have diabetes, let’s say, it is permitted to carry your works and your insulin around in a leather zip, but as soon as you start shoving your keys, Altoids, and above all your wallet in there, too, it’s over.  You are a man with a purse.

—Manhood for Amateurs: The Pleasures and Regrets of a Husband, Father, and Son, by Michael Chabon (HarperCollins, $25.99)  IN STOCK

This entry was posted on 27 October, 2009 at 3:22 pm and is filed under Books, Excerpts with tags memoir, Michael Chabon. You can follow any responses to this entry through the RSS 2.0 feed You can leave a response, or trackback from your own site.