Dave Wood

Almost 100 years ago famous Nobel Prize winner for fiction Sinclair Lewis wrote home from Europe an essay for his high school yearbook he entitled “The Long Arm of the Small Town,” in which he told that year’s Sauk Centre High School graduates about the influences of his hometown on his life and writing.  Which, to my mind, was a pretty fantastic gesture from a cranky satirist who tried never to answer fan mail from his many adult admirers.

I was recently reminded of this essay when I received a call from David Benjamin’s literary agent. David Benjamin? Who is David Benjamin, thought my withered excuse for a brain. And then it dawned on me. David Benjamin was the kid who called me years ago and wondered if I’d review his first book, “The Last Kid Picked,” his memoir of growing up in Tomah, Wis. Apparently Benjamin had got hold of my first book, which was a memoir of growing up in a town even smaller than Tomah, a hamlet called Whitehall, Wis. Recognizing a kindred spirit, I said sure, I’ll give it a spin in the Minneapolis Tribune.  Later, Benjamin and I served on panels at a writer’s festival in Eau Claire, where we had a pleasant schmooze. 

And then we both lost touch. I went into semi-retirement in River Falls and continued to write columns for various newspapers, large and small, plus a few books, most of which hit the remainder table. But what happened to David Benjamin?

His Madison agent, Sharyn Alden, filled me in, and I discovered our paths had diverged mightily. After serving as a prize-winning editor in Asia and Europe, Benjamin moved to Paris, France, several kilometers from River Falls, (Cascade de Fleuve?) after his “Last Kid Picked,” memoir had become a household bestseller. He began a publishing company (called Last Kid Books—what else?) and has published 16 books under his own imprint and more than 2,000 essays. After 50 years at the word processer, Benjamin, I at least have you beat on that score!

But Benjamin’s new book, which he just sent me, shows me up on every other count. It’s called “Bistro Nights” (Last Kid Books, $20, 309 W. Washington Ave. Madison, WI 53703) by David Benjamin, cunning illustrations by his wife Junko Yoshida. 

This new book shows his genius for niche marketing as he focuses on two hot topics that make this edgy novel a real winner: our fascination with food these days, and the obvious attractions of the writing life. Its main characters are journalists Steve and Mie (could it be Dave and Yoshida?), voyeurs who linger around Paris bistros, like du Bistro du Dome, and invent scenarios about other diners, while they ingest carafes of wine, crisp baguettes and tiny squid sauteed in butter.

All seems like harmless fun until one of the scenarios involves them in a love triangle that could lead to murder. To complicate matters, “Bistro Nights” has parallel plots separated by a century. First, Steve and Mie’s hobby. Second a novel written about the 19^th century demimonde in Paris, replete with Apaches, those charming but crooked Parisian gangsters with kerchiefs populating French movies more than a century ago (think Anthony Quinn).

The latter tour de force reminded me of an old song I used to listen to when I was a kid. It was Vaughn Monroe singing on “Your Hit Parade” a tune that began:

“On the Rue de la Paix, there was once a cabaret—And Mimi./All the world seemed to say that they loved the cabaret—And Mimi./ But I knew that when she’d see me, she would sing for me alone./Came an Apache with a passion for dancing with the one I adore./Taught her to dance in his fashion/ and for me she’s singing no more.”

It’s all a wonderful concoction of sensuality and venality. Talk about the long arm of the small town! I wonder if David Benjamín ever listened to “Your Hit Parade” back in little Tomah and dreamed of the big world outside.

Dave would like to hear from you. Phone him at 715-426-9554.