Overstated A coast-to-coast roast of the 50 states

It is a historical truism that fools and jesters enjoy greater freedom to speak truth to power because they couch their truth in humor. Modern audiences see the effectiveness of this approach whenever a talented humorist writes about civic affairs. Stand-up comedian Quinn is one such humorist and here he has written an overview of all 50 states of the union. Having visited most of the states in the course of his comedy career, Quinn believes that every state is unique in some essential way, different from every other state in sometimes subtle, sometimes drastic ways. While many of Quinn's observations could come across as negative or critical, his comments are always couched in delightful wit or gentle mockery to ease the pain. West Virginians are taunted--and forgiven--for their reputation for fooling around with relatives; Alabamans fetishize college football in extreme ways; New Yorkers are fixated on real estate; and Maine is clean, but creepy enough to have birthed both Stephen King and Dark Shadows. For all 50 states Quinn pulls off the remarkable feat of being both very informative and thoroughly entertaining. This delightful read is highly recommended.

Comedian Quinn (The Coloring Book) pokes fun at America's regional idiosyncracies in this quip-filled survey of U.S. history. Tracking how the country got to the point "where everybody is broken up into cults trying to force their values and ideals onto each other," Quinn takes on each state one by one. Noting that New Hampshire was the first state to declare its independence from England, he compares the December 1774 raid on Fort William and Mary to "going into a rough sports bar and turning off the game everyone's watching and putting on The Devil Wears Prada." He describes Idaho as having "the beauty of Wyoming combined with the boredom of Iowa" and calls out South Dakota for "riding off the fact that North Dakota looks at you like you are the hip brother." Though Quinn holds out little hope for the long-term health of the union ("this country was supposed to live fast, die young, and leave a good-looking corpse"), he thinks Americans should take pride in the fact that "we let everybody have a personality." Though more incisive in its cultural skewering than its political analysis, Quinn's sardonic portrait of America in decline will resonate with readers suspicious of ideological stalwarts on both the right and the left. (Sept.)

The comedian writes that "all state jokes used to be about New Jersey and now half the jokes are about Florida." Then he disproves it by sending up each of the states in turn. Quinn returns to and elaborates on a theme of his solo off-Broadway show Red State Blue State: the geopolitical rifts that divide America in the age of social media, Donald Trump, and a polarized citizenry. As the author sees it, everyone's fair game now that keeping the nation together has come to resemble planning a wedding: "You have to have vegan meals for Oregon and Vermont and bourbon for Tennessee and Kentucky, and you have to make sure Utah is not next to Florida." With barbs that modulate from rueful to sardonic, Quinn tweaks the states one by one, giving an offbeat view of the history and recent follies of each and interspersing his rundown with musings on federalism in general. Tobacco-rich North Carolina is "America's Ashtray," beer-and-bratwurst--loving Wisconsin is "The Diet Starts Tomorrow" state, and filmmaker-friendly Georgia is "Hollywood's Booty Call." The author lands his punches when he lampoons topics he knows well, such as U.S. elections: "They're always held in an elementary school that brings back weird memories for everybody. Why not put them in bars?...Instead of stupid 'I Voted' buttons, they give you a drink ticket or rewards points at CVS." Elsewhere, Quinn displays a too-shaky grip on states to satirize them convincingly--he researched North Dakota partly by looking at "some pictures on Trip Advisor"--and overuses devices like fat jokes, which he lobs at nine states. The problem isn't that such jokes are unwelcome; it's that many don't ring true. For example, government studies show that at least two targets of his fat jokes--Hawaii and Massachusetts--rank among the nation's 10 thinnest states. A hot-and-cold roast of the 50 states that spares neither right- nor left-leaning terrain. Copyright (c) Kirkus Reviews, used with permission.