The Gift of Jazzy
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4.8 • 4 Ratings
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- $11.99
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- $11.99
Publisher Description
This is the true story of a savvy, seemingly tough columnist who could take on Clintons, Bushes, VIPs from New York to Hollywood--but is taken prisoner by the love of a tiny Yorkie who taught her more about joy and survival than any human could have.
After The New York Post's Cindy Adams lost her husband Joey, finding a new companion was the last thing on her mind. But one day, an unannounced visitor brought just that, in the form Cindy least expected: a dog named Jazzy. Although Cindy had never considered herself a dog lover before, Jazzy quickly moved from unwelcome surprise to her closest family member. Cindy brings her famous wit, smarts and taste for celebrity dish to the page in recounting her hilarious first year with Jazzy--which gave her a new leash on life. This book will touch anyone who's ever lost someone dear.
PUBLISHERS WEEKLY
Some writers are so careful with their prose that it seems each sentence has been crafted with a thoughtful combination of precision and grace. Then there's Cindy Adams. A New York Post columnist for 20 years, Adams is like a slap where a kiss is expected; she doesn't want to build a house of words she wants to blow one down. And huff and puff she does in this small memoir about receiving a Yorkshire terrier as a gift after her husband's death. After explaining why she named the dog "Jazzy" (because of his frantic, jazzed-up energy), Adams details the pup's tendency to piddle on clothes and his propensity for getting Adams into tricky situations, e.g., getting locked into a hallway with Imelda Marcos. Delivered with Adams's rapid-fire, detail-free style, these adventures are wearying at first, but the book begins to do to the reader what the dog, predictably, does to its owner: charms through sheer force of will and sweet bumbling. Although Adams chronicles what it's like to be a new widow, she also recognizes the absurdity of finding comfort in a teensy dog that likes bones from Gallagher's steakhouse and drinks Poland Spring in a posh New York apartment. This self-consciousness, mixed with Adams's descriptions of truly humorous incidents, make the book a guilty little treat, gobbled up in one bite on those nights when all that carefully crafted prose seems a bit too thoughtful, and decidedly unjazzy.
