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Over the last year, I have read many wonderful novels: "The Lovely Bones" by Alice Sebold, "Atonement" by Ian McEwan, "The Hours" by Michael Cunningham. Well-written, emotionally resonant, all best-sellers, these highly praised literary works are required reading in book groups in Los Angeles and across the nation. Yet as excellent as they were, as one critic said of "Schindler's List": "There weren't that many laughs."
By contrast, "Tepper Isn't Going Out" by Calvin Trillin delivers more pleasure, more belly laughs per page than any other work in recent memory.