BN.com Gift Guide

Sag Harbor

( 116 )

Overview

"The year is 1985. Benji Cooper is one of the few black students at an elite prep school in Manhattan. He spends his falls and winters going to roller-disco bar mitzvahs, playing too much Dungeons and Dragons, and trying to catch glimpses of nudity on late-night cable TV. After a tragic mishap on his first day of high school - when Benji reveals his deep enthusiasm for the horror movie magazine Fangoria - his social doom is sealed for the next four years." "But every summer, Benji escapes to the Hamptons, to Sag Harbor, where a small community of ...
See more details below
Paperback
$10.78
BN.com price
(Save 32%)$15.95 List Price

Pick Up In Store

Reserve and pick up in 60 minutes at your local store

Other sellers (Paperback)
  • All (53) from $1.99   
  • New (14) from $8.06   
  • Used (39) from $1.99   
Sag Harbor

Available on NOOK devices and apps  
  • NOOK Devices
  • Samsung Galaxy Tab 4 NOOK 7.0
  • Samsung Galaxy Tab 4 NOOK 10.1
  • NOOK HD Tablet
  • NOOK HD+ Tablet
  • NOOK eReaders
  • NOOK Color
  • NOOK Tablet
  • Tablet/Phone
  • NOOK for Windows 8 Tablet
  • NOOK for iOS
  • NOOK for Android
  • NOOK Kids for iPad
  • PC/Mac
  • NOOK for Windows 8
  • NOOK for PC
  • NOOK for Mac
  • NOOK for Web

Want a NOOK? Explore Now

NOOK Book (eBook)
$11.99
BN.com price

Overview

"The year is 1985. Benji Cooper is one of the few black students at an elite prep school in Manhattan. He spends his falls and winters going to roller-disco bar mitzvahs, playing too much Dungeons and Dragons, and trying to catch glimpses of nudity on late-night cable TV. After a tragic mishap on his first day of high school - when Benji reveals his deep enthusiasm for the horror movie magazine Fangoria - his social doom is sealed for the next four years." "But every summer, Benji escapes to the Hamptons, to Sag Harbor, where a small community of African American professionals have built a world of their own. Because their parents come out only on weekends, Benji and his friends are left to their own devices for three glorious months. And although he's just as confused about this all-black refuge as he is about the white world he negotiates the rest of the year, he thinks that maybe this summer things will be different. If all goes according to plan, that is." There will be trials and tribulations, of course. There will be complicated new handshakes to fumble through and state-of-the-art profanity to master. He will be tested by contests big and small, by his misshapen haircut (which seems to have a will of its own), by the New Coke Tragedy of '85, and by his secret Lite FM addiction. But maybe, with a little luck, things will turn out differently this summer.
Read More Show Less

Editorial Reviews

Toure
Whitehead's delicious language and sarcastic, clever voice fit this teenager who's slowly constructing himself. Sag Harbor is not "How I became a writer"; there's no hint of Benji's destiny beyond his sharp-eyed way of looking at things, his writerly voice and his desire to provide a historical and sociological context for blacks in the Hamptons. Still, with the story meandering like a teenager's attention, the book feels more like a memoir than a traditional plot-driven novel. It's easy to come away thinking not much happens—Whitehead has said as much—but Sag Harbor mirrors life, which is also plotless. It's an inner monologue, a collection of stories about a classic teenage summer where there's some cool stuff and some tedium and Benji grows in minute ways he can't yet see.
—The New York Times Book Review
Janet Maslin
[Whitehead] captures the fireflies of teenage summertime in a jar without pretending to have some larger purpose…What's best about Sag Harbor is the utter and sometimes mortifying accuracy of its descriptive details…And given the minefield of social and cultural choices that Benji and his friends must navigate, Sag Harbor has unusually good reason to dwell on minutiae.
—The New York Times
Ron Charles
Detailing the life of a dorky teenager in a community that's peculiar but oddly familiar, Sag Harbor is a kind of black "Brighton Beach Memoirs," but it's spiced with the anxieties of being African American in a culture determined to dictate what that means…The novel's eight chapters are, in effect, masterful short stories, deceptively desultory as they riff on the essential quests of teenage boys: BB guns, nude beaches, beer and, above all, the elusive secret to fitting in. But plot is the least of Whitehead's concerns here. Charm alone drives most of these chapters, the seductive voice of a narrator as clever as he is self-deprecating, moving from one comic anecdote to the next with infectious delight in his own memories.
—The Washington Post
Publishers Weekly

In what Whitehead describes as his "Autobiographical Fourth Novel" (as opposed to the more usual autobiographical first novel), the author of the Pulitzer Prize finalist John Henry Days explores the in-between space of adolescence through one boy's summer in a predominantly black Long Island neighborhood. Benji and Reggie, brothers so closely knit that many mistake them for twins, have been coming out to Sag Harbor for as long as they can remember. For Benji, each three-month stay at Sag is a chance to catch up with friends he doesn't see the rest of the year, and to escape the social awkwardness that comes with a bad afro, reading Fangoria, and being the rare African-American student at an exclusive Manhattan prep school. As he and Reggie develop separate identities and confront new factors like girls, part-time jobs and car-ownership, Benji struggles to adapt to circumstances that could see him joining the ranks of "Those Who Don't Come Out Anymore." Benji's funny and touching story progresses leisurely toward Labor Day, but his reflections on what's gone before provide a roadmap to what comes later, resolving social conflicts that, at least this year, have yet to explode. (Apr.)

Copyright © Reed Business Information, a division of Reed Elsevier Inc. All rights reserved.
Library Journal

Fifteen-year-old Benji has spent every summer since he can remember in Sag Harbor, NY. The rest of the year, he's a black preppie from Manhattan, with a doctor father and a lawyer mother and a younger brother, Reggie. It is 1985, and Reggie gets a job at Burger King, leaving Benji (who would prefer to be called Ben) to hang with his summer friends (the term posse wasn't invented yet), other black prep school refugees. Not a lot happens during those three months. Or does everything happen, all that matters to an insecure, nerdy teen just beginning to recognize the man he might become? Scooping ice cream at Jonni Waffle, riding to the "white beach" with the one guy who's got a car, trying to crash a Lisa Lisa concert at the hip club, and kissing a girl and copping a feel are significant events in a life that encompasses generations of folks who called Sag Harbor home. Wonderful, evocative writing, as always, from Whitehead (Apex Hides the Hurt); male readers especially will relate. Highly recommended. [Prepub Alert, LJ12/08.]
—Bette-Lee Fox

Kirkus Reviews
Another surprise from an author who never writes the same novel twice. Though Whitehead has earned considerable critical acclaim for his earlier work-in particular his debut (The Intuitionist, 1999) and its successor (John Henry Days, 2001)-he'll likely reach a wider readership with his warmest novel to date. Funniest as well, though there have been flashes of humor throughout his writing. The author blurs the line between fiction and memoir as he recounts the coming-of-age summer of 15-year-old Benji Cooper in the family's summer retreat of New York's Sag Harbor. "According to the world, we were the definition of paradox: black boys with beach houses," writes Whitehead. Caucasians are only an occasional curiosity within this idyll, and parents are mostly absent as well. Each chapter is pretty much a self-contained entity, corresponding to a rite of passage: getting the first job, negotiating the mysteries of the opposite sex. There's an accident with a BB gun and plenty of episodes of convincing someone older to buy beer, but not much really happens during this particular summer. Yet by the end of it, Benji is well on his way to becoming Ben, and he realizes that he is a different person than when the summer started. He also realizes that this time in his life will eventually live only in memory. There might be some distinctions between Benji and Whitehead, though the novelist also spent his youthful summers in Sag Harbor and was the same age as Benji in 1985, when the novel is set. Yet the first-person narrator has the novelist's eye for detail, craft of character development and analytical instincts for sharp social commentary. Not as thematically ambitious as Whitehead's earlier work,but a whole lot of fun to read.
From the Publisher
Praise for Sag Harbor

“Pure shimmering brilliance. Colson Whitehead’s affecting new novel joyously lights up a place, a time, a family, and one unforgettable young man. It is also one of the funniest books I’ve ever read, a book loaded with the kind of humor that can only soar off a heartbreaking sadness.”
—Gary Shteyngart, author of Absurdistan and The Russian Debutante’s Handbook

Praise for Colson Whitehead

“Whitehead is making a strong case for a new name of his own: that of the best of the new generation of American novelists.” —Boston Globe

“No novelist writing today is more engaging and entertaining when it comes to questions of race, class, and commercial culture than Colson Whitehead.” —USA Today

“[Whitehead] takes on a multitude of issues with a rich and probing imagination. His reputation is likely to soar.” —Ishmael Reed, Washington Post Book World

“[Whitehead] writes wonderfully, commanding a lush, poetic, mellifluous prose instrument.” —The Nation

The Barnes & Noble Review
Colson Whitehead's Sag Harbor is a high-spirited delight of a novel, a sunny surprise from Whitehead, a MacArthur Fellow who is a master of the ironic postmodern narrative. His satiric first novel, The Intuitionist, a philosophical detective story starring a black female elevator inspector, drew raves for originality as well as comparisons to Ellison, Morrison, Orwell, and Pynchon. His John Henry Days, a Pulitzer finalist and a National Book Critics Circle fiction finalist, poked fun at press junkets while asking serious questions about the "steel-driving man" behind the myth.

Whitehead's avowedly autobiographical fourth novel is set in the fabled Hamptons. But it evokes the coming-of-age pleasures of summer anywhere -- ice cream, barbecues, messing around, trying to figure out what's cool. Whitehead dials us back to 1985 (the era of Run-D.M.C., Miami Vice, The Cosby Show, and Stouffer's frozen dinners). He frames his story within the seasonal brackets of Memorial Day and Labor Day. As the novel begins, Benji, 15, and his younger brother, Reggie (at 10 months apart, they are almost twins), sleep in the backseat as their father hits the Long Island Expressway before dawn for the first drive to the family's summer place in the village of Sag Harbor. When they arrive, Benji is joyous: "Same sun wrapped in shiny paper, same soft benevolent sky, same gravel road that sooner or later skinned you.... We were grateful to be standing there in that heat after such a long bleak year in the city." Then it is time to figure out who else is out at the beach, and for how long. And so the summer colony begins to form, based in part on the vagaries of fortune (Benji hopes never to join the ranks of "Those Who Didn't Come Out Anymore").

Whitehead structures Benji's summer adventure as a series of set pieces that draw specifics from the historically African-American communities in Sag Harbor. During the village's whaling days, its Eastville section was settled primarily by black and Indian workers. Later, this area of Sag Harbor became a sort of summer retreat for members of the Harlem Renaissance. Its status as a resort was solidified in the 1940s, when Maude Terry founded Azurest, the historically African-American community of professionals, by discovering a large parcel of waterfront land for sale and subdividing it among her friends and neighbors. As one of a circle of "black boys with beach houses," as Benji puts it, "we fit in there."

Benji has his own spin on things, including race relations. Walking to town ("White Sag Harbor"), he avoids the corner with the pickup truck sporting a Confederate-flag bumper sticker. On the ocean beach, where he and his friends are the only black people, he sees his buddy Clive's mix tape as "an invasion of metropolitan funk." Noting the lifeguard's "Shark Attack" whistle, Benji thinks it would be cool to have a Jaws moment and spot a shark fin gliding in the waves.

Benji and his brother hang out with kids they've spent every summer with since they were born. In this close-knit community, some of Benji's friends are second-, even third-generation Sag Harbor babies. "We were copying our parents, who went back just as far, beating each other up thirty years ago under the same sky. Eating each other's barbecue, chasing each other down the hacked-out footpaths to the beach before there were roads, beach houses, a community at all."

In a chapter titled "If I Could Pay You Less, I Would," Whitehead goes over the top with an extended riff on Benji's first summer job at Jonni Waffle, an ice cream shop on the wharf with a "waffle-cone aroma" and absurd flavors like Cran-Mocha Praline. Benji succumbs to the "all the free ice cream he could eat" part of the deal and ends up nauseous at the end of each day. By chapter's end, with Benji's vision of the ultimate ice cream meltdown ("a cookie-clotted sludge oozing across the floor, marshmallows floating like broken teeth"), Whitehead has us feeling Benji's aversion to sweets.

Next door is the disco. Whitehead mines the great pop culture moments of the 1980s in his descriptions of Bayside, which is modeled after a real-life Sag Harbor club where kids from up and down the East Coast, black and white, flocked to hear Lisa Lisa, Cult Jam, U.T.F.O , Steel Pulse, and UB40 perform, while their folks lined up to see Tina Turner and Tito Puente. Naturally, the celebrity spillover ends up at Jonni Waffle, where Benji and his underage buddies scheme to wrangle their way into the disco with ice cream. And one night, at last , Benji sails through the open doors -- exuding their gusts of "Super Freak" -- into the dark realm of "waitresses in nipple-popping T-shirts, battle-worn from a summer of rough duty," and hears a U.T.F.O. concert. Looking back, Benji concludes that "Roxanne, Roxanne" is corny: "It's a classic because of when it came out, those early days of hip-hop when anything with a bit of novelty was mesmerizing, but it's goofy as hell."

Some of Whitehead's sharpest comic moments revolve around Benji and Reggie's sibling strategies, honed over the years according to the "rough frontier justice of even Stephen." They have such rules as "Thou Shalt Not Clean Thy Brother's Soup Pot." On Mondays, after their folks drive back to town, Benji and Reggie luxuriate in the freedom of having weekdays on their own. Throughout the week, they allow the dishes to pile up into a "jutting, ziggurat mess," occasionally dealing with such smelly messes as maggots in the remnants of Sunday's taco pan. Thursdays are reserved for misadventures -- "thoroughly botched mishaps that called for shame and first aid and apologies." That's because on Friday, the parents return. Among their Thursday escapades is a BB gun war that leads to minor mayhem. Within a few sentences, Whitehead ranges from the lyrical ("A firefly blinked into existence, drew half a word in the air. Then gone") to the visceral ("...something hit me in the face with a rock. Hot oil! Hot oil!").

Benji fantasizes about the trajectory of his father's voice when riled ("I imagined the progress of the sound waves through the air, as depicted in my Introduction to Physics textbook"), and confesses to his secret shame, listening to Sag Harbor's Classic Oldies station, WLNG (the "WLNG Effect," he explains, is "a feeling of nostalgia for something that never existed. It creeped people out"). His perceptions are sunnily optimistic, painted with summer's brightness and freedom. As Labor Day approaches, a frenetic quality enters the scene. To the beat of "Ain't No Stoppin' Us Now" -- the "Black National Anthem" of the day -- the Labor Day parties begin, signaling the end to the carefree months.

By summer's end, Benji feels smarter, more together, closer to a more grown-up "Ben." He has worked at his first job and said good-bye to braces, hello to romance. He invents a new look (starting with combat boots), thinks about new music, imagines what he'll be able to do when he turns 16, with a major focus on girls. Gracefully, with restraint and wit, Whitehead gives us inklings of an independent, thoughtful, self-deprecating man-to-be about to emerge after this crucial summer.

Sag Harbor is an infectiously entertaining novel. Will Whitehead continue in this new, lighter comic vein? I suspect not. With its glowing and affectionate portrait of a more innocent time, Sag Harbor has the feel of lightning in a bottle. --Jane Ciabattari

Jane Ciabattari is president of the National Book Critics Circle.

Read More Show Less

Product Details

  • ISBN-13: 9780307455161
  • Publisher: Knopf Doubleday Publishing Group
  • Publication date: 6/15/2010
  • Pages: 352
  • Sales rank: 257,139
  • Product dimensions: 5.10 (w) x 7.90 (h) x 0.90 (d)

Meet the Author

Colson Whitehead
Colson Whitehead is the author of the novels The Intuitionist, a finalist for the PEN/Hemingway award; John Henry Days, which won the Young Lions Fiction Award, the Anisfield-Wolf Book Award, and was a finalist for the Pulitzer Prize; and Apex Hides the Hurt, a New York Times Notable Book and winner of the PEN Oakland Award. He has also written a book of essays about his home town, The Colossus of New York. A recipient of a Whiting Writers’ Award and a MacArthur Fellowship, he lives in Brooklyn.

Biography

Born in 1969 and raised in Manhattan, Colson Whitehead received his undergraduate degree from Harvard. After graduation, he went to work for the Village Voice as a book , television, and music reviewer.

Whitehead's first novel, The Intuitionist, was published in 1999 and was a finalist for the PEN/Hemingway and a winner of the Quality Paperback Book Club's New Voices Award. In 2001, he published John Henry Days, a startlingly original retelling of the famous story from American folklore. The novel received several honors and was shortlisted for the National Book Critics Circle Award and the Pulitzer Prize. In 2003, a collection of his essays, The Colossus of New York, was named a New York Times Notable Book of the year.

Whitehead's writing continues to attract awards, rave reviews, and a devoted, avid readership. In between books, he produces reviews, essays, short stories, and cultural commentary for a number of distinguished publications, including The New York Times, The New Yorker, Harper's, and Granta. He is the recipient of a coveted MacArthur Fellowship (dubbed the "genius grant") , a Whiting Writers Award, and a fellowship at the Cullman Center for Scholars and Writers

Good To Know

In our interview, Colson Whitehead shared some fascinating facts about himself:

"Where do I get my ideas? Usually I come across some strange fact in a book, or article, or tv show and think, That's weird, wouldn't it be kooky if...?"

"I like to write in the nude -- I find the gentle breezes tickle the fine hairs of creativity."

"Here are some of the things I like: staying in the house all day, screening phone calls, keeping the shades drawn. Deglazing. Oh, how I love to deglaze."

"Here's what I dislike: performance art, people who walk slowly in front of me, romantic comedies, panel discussions."

Read More Show Less
    1. Hometown:
      Brooklyn, NY
    1. Date of Birth:
      November 6, 1969
    2. Place of Birth:
      New York, NY
    1. Education:
      Harvard College, BA in English & American Literature
    2. Website:

Read an Excerpt

Notions of Roller-Rink Infinity

First you had to settle the question of out. When did you get out? Asking this was showing off, even though anyone you could brag to had received the same gift and had come by it the same way you did. Same sun wrapped in shiny paper, same soft benevolent sky, same gravel road that sooner or later skinned you. It was hard not to believe it belonged to you more than anyone else, made for you and waiting all these years for you to come along. Everyone felt that way. We were grateful just to be standing there in that heat after such a long bleak year in the city. When did you get out? was the sound of our trap biting shut; we took the bait year after year, pure pinned joy in the town of Sag Harbor.

Then there was the next out: How long are you out for?--and the competition had begun. The magic answer was Through Labor Day or The Whole Summer. Anything less was to signal misfortune. Out for a weekend at the start of the season, to open up the house, sweep cracks, that was okay. But only coming out for a month? A week? What was wrong, were you having financial difficulties? Everyone had financial difficulties, sure, but to let it interfere with Sag, your shit was seriously amiss. Out for a week, a month, and you were allowing yourself to be cheated by life. Ask, How long are you out for? and a cloud wiped the sun. The question trailed a whiff of autumn. All answers contemplated the end, the death of summer at its very beginning. Still waiting for the bay to warm up so you could go for a swim and already picturing it frozen over. Labor Day suddenly not so far off at all.

The final out was one-half information-gathering and one-half prayer: Who else is out? The season had begun, we were proof of it, instrument of it, but things couldn't really get started until all the players took their marks, bounding down driveways, all gimme-fives. The others were necessary, and we needed word. The person standing before you in pleated salmon shorts might say, "I talked to him on Wednesday and he said they were coming out." They were always the first ones out, never missed June like their lives depended on it. (This was true.) Someone might offer, "Their lawn was cut." A cut lawn was an undeniable omen of impending habitation, today or tomorrow. "Saw a car in their driveway." Even better. There was no greater truth than a car in a driveway. A car in the driveway was an invitation to knock on the door and get down to the business of summer. Knock on that door and watch it relent under your knuckles--once you were out, the door stayed unlocked until you closed up the house.

Once we're all out, we can begin.

My name is Ben. In the summer of 1985 I was fifteen years old. My brother, Reggie, was fourteen. As for when we got out, we got out that morning, hour and a half flat, having beat the traffic. Over the course of a summer, you heard a lot of different strategies of how to beat the traffic, or at least slap it around a little. There were those who ditched the office early on Friday afternoon, casually letting their co-workers know the reason for their departure in order to enjoy a little low-pressure envy. Others headed back to the city late Sunday evening, choking every last pulse of joy from the weekend with cocoa-buttered hands. They stopped to grab a bite and watched the slow red surge outside the restaurant window while dragging clam strips through tartar sauce--soon, soon, not yet--until the coast was clear.

My father's method was easy and brutal--hit the road at five in the morning so that we were the only living souls on the Long Island Expressway, making a break for it in the haunted dark. Every so often my mother said, "There's no traffic," as if it were a miracle. Well, it wasn't really dark, June sunrises are up and at 'em, but I always remember those drives that way--memory has a palette and broad brush. Perhaps I remember it that way because my eyes were closed most of the time. The trick of those early-morning jaunts was to wake up just enough to haul a bag of clothes down to the car, nestle in, and then retreat back into sleep. Any unnecessary movement might exile you from the realm of half asleep and into the bleary half awake, so my brother and I did a zombie march slow and mute until we hit the backseat, where we turned into our separate nooks, sniffing upholstery, butt to butt, more or less looking like a Ror_schach test. What do you see in this picture? Two brothers going off in different directions.

We had recently ceased to be twins. We were born ten months apart and until I went to high school we came as a matched set, more Siamese than fraternal or identical, defined by an uncanny inseparability. Joined not at the hip or spleen or nervous system but at that more important place--that spot on your self where you meet the world.

There was something in the human DNA that compelled people to say "Benji 'n' Reggie, Benji 'n' Reggie" in a singsong way, as if we were cartoon characters or mascots of some twenty-five-cent candy. On the rare occasions we were caught alone, the first thing people asked was "Where's Benji?" or "Where's Reggie?," whereupon we delivered a thorough account of our other's whereabouts, quickly including context as if embarrassed to be caught out in the sunlight with only half a shadow: "He rode into town. He lost his CAT Diesel Power cap at the beach and went to get a new one at the five-and-ten." And the questioner nodded solemnly: Reggie's love for his CAT Diesel Power cap, fostered by '70s trucker movies, was well-known.

There was summer, and then there was the rest of the time. During the rest of the time, before we were separated, you could find us modeling gear from the Brooks Brothers Young Men's Department--smart white Oxford shirts, for example, tucked in during school hours, flapping in soft rebellion when we were home. The elementary school we went to required us to wear jackets and ties, so we did. Our wrists inevitably outran our jacket sleeves despite our mother's attempts at timely hem-jobs. The ties as a species were clip-on, but we had a few that our father tied for us at the beginning of the school year, which we then slid loose and slid tight for the next nine months, knots getting greasier and grubbier as our kiddie fingers oozed into them. We had one blue blazer and one beige corduroy jacket apiece, rotated over gray slacks and khaki pants. I was a little taller, which helped us sort out whose was whose, but not always.

What did we look like, walking down Lexington, across Sixty-second Street, side by side on our way to and from school? I remember one day in the seventh grade when an old white man stopped us on a corner and asked us if we were the sons of a diplomat. Little princes of an African country. The U.N. being half a mile away. Because--why else would black people dress like that? Looking up into his mossy teeth, I croaked a tiny "No" and tugged Reggie into the crosswalk, as my don't-talk-to-strangers/everyone-is-a-child-molester training kicked in. The TV was our babysitter, sure, so finger-wagging movies of the week were our manual on how to deal with strangers. We eagerly riffled through the literature, tsk-tsking and chuckling over tales of neglected white kids gone awry, the sad procession of zaftig and susceptible teenage hitchhikers, the pill-popping honor students turned wildcat over "the pressure to succeed." When strangers stopped us on the street asking questions, we knew what to do. Keep walking, brother. What did he look like? Senior partner in the law firm of Cracker, Cracker & Cracker. What did we look like? I don't know, but his question wasn't something we'd ever be asked in Sag Harbor. We fit in there.

Summers we branched out in our measly fashion. Freed from the dress code, what did we do? As fake twins, we couldn't shake our love of the uniform. Each day we wore the same make of shirt, but different colors, different iron-on decals. Every couple of months our mother bought us some clothes at Gimbels--security cameras capture her foraging for her cubs, murmuring "Two of these, and two of these"--and then tossed them into our cage for us to hyena-yip over who got what. Want the maroon terry-cloth shirt? Get to it first or else you'll be wearing the olive one 'til next Christmas. R2-D2 jammies for you, C-3PO for me. You had to work fast. Dibs was all.

We were a bit of a genre when you pried open a family photo album: There's Benji 'n' Reggie slouching in the beach grass, leaning on the hood of that summer's rented car, huddled on a bench outside the ice-cream parlor. One brother in a powder-blue Izod polo, the other in a crimson Izod drizzled with Rocky Road. Arms noosed around each other's necks, always wearing the same shirts but for that one crucial, differentiating detail that was everything. The same, but a little off, and it was to that crooked little corner of difference that we truly aspired.

Our expressions, picture to picture? Me: pained and dyspeptic, squinting in discomfort at the discovery of some new defect in the design of the world, the thought bubble asking, "Aren't we all just ants under the magnifying glass, really?" and "Is this the passing of our days, so much Pixy Stix dust falling in an hourglass?" The only time "early bloomer" has ever been applied to me is vis-Æ-vis my premature apprehension of the deep dread-of-existence thing. In all other cases, I plod and tromp along. My knuckles? Well dragged.

Say Cheese. And what's Reggie up to? Mugging, of course, cross-eyed, sneering, fingers bent into devil's horns, waving his dented beggar's cup for one extra ounce of precious attention, a rare element in our household. We knew we wanted to be separated but could only bear it in slim degrees. So when our father showed up with knockoff souvenirs from the 1976 Montreal Olympics, I snagged the javelin T-shirt, Reggie reached for the shot-put T-shirt, and we broke out of the locker-room tunnel into the arena of sunlight, summer after summer, members of the same team. It was nice to have a team, even if it was just us two.

Where is the surgeon gifted enough to undertake this risky operation, separate these hapless conjoined? Paging Doc Puberty, arms scrubbed, smocked to the hilt, smacking the nurses on the ass, and well-versed in all the latest techniques. More suction! Javelin and shot put--that's about right. Hormones sent me up and airborne, tall and skinny, a knock-kneed little reed, while Reggie, always chubby in the cheeks and arms, bulged out into something round and pinchable, soft and smooth, where I stuck out in sharp angles. We disentangled week by week, one new hair at a time. Junior high, they called it.

There were no complications on the physical separation, but what about the mental one, to sever the phantom connection whereby if Reggie stubbed his toe, I cried out in pain, and vice versa? The moment of my psychic release was occasioned by Liza Finkelstein's eighth-grade roller-disco party in the spring of '83.

It was bar mitzvah season, a good time to be alive by any measure, but particularly for die-hard finger-food aficionados like myself. As my friends underwent their time-honored initiation rituals, I experienced my own coming-of-age, culinary-wise. I had led a rather sheltered life with regards to bite-sized snacks, having only messed around with Mini Hot Dogs, La Choy Egg Rolls, and other lovelies of the Preheat To 350 school. The racy, catered pleasures of the full-tilt, bank-busting, don't-you-love-me bar mitzvah were a revelation. I remember marveling at the silver hors d'oeuvres trays as they dipped and flitted through the air like flying saucers out of a '50s sci-fi movie, bearing alien life forms I had never reckoned, messengers of gustatory peace and goodwill. Chicken teriyaki on skewers, Swedish meatballs squatting in brown pools, all manner of dipping sauces in dark and gluey abundance--it was dizzying, and that wasn't just the thimbles of Manischewitz talking.

I was used to being the only black kid in the room--I was only there because I had met these assorted Abes and Sarahs and Dannys in a Manhattan private school, after all--but there was something instructive about being the only black kid at a bar mitzvah. Every bar or bat mitzvah should have at least one black kid with a yarmulke hovering on his Afro--it's a nice visual joke, let's just get that out of the way, but more important it trains the kid in question to determine when people in the corner of his eye are talking about him and when they are not, a useful skill in later life when sorting out bona-fide persecution from perceived persecution, the this-is-actually-happening from the mere paranoid manifestation. "Who's that?" "Whisper whisper a friend of Andy's from school.

" "So regal and composed--he looks like a young Sidney Poitier." "Whisper whisper or the son of an African diplomat!"

Eventually I'd have some company when the occasional R&B band showed up to drag themselves through the obligatory Motown retrospective, with the inevitable "Super Freak" thrown in_._._._as Liza Finkelstein, grim and silent, squashed her place setting in her fist and cursed us all. Her parents were civil rights lawyers, not that I knew what that meant, except that it compelled Liza to blurt out "My parents were there!" on that one day a year when a teacher mentioned the March on Washington. Her parents respected all races, colors, and creeds, unless that creed was their own. According to some lefty calculus they had concluded that the traditions of their faith were bogus, and consequently Liza was going to have to wait a while before entering the world of calligraphic invitations and their little guppy RSVP envelopes.

Rebellion trickles down. Liza's "My parents were there!"s diminished in enthusiasm year by year, to be true, but I think it was bat mitzvah season, with its exuberant pageantry and lovely haul of presents, that puckered her to new pouty extremes. To be so exiled. It came to pass that one bright spring morning our hippie English teacher Mr. Johnson mentioned the March on Washington and the assembled of Homeroom 8B instinctively turned to Liza to hear her declaration for the last time. Perhaps we were feeling sentimental. We'd be in high school in a few months, split up after being together--some of us--since pre-K. This was a milestone, and we waited for Liza to give us what we needed. The moments piled up. A suspicion or fear that Liza might not provide her necessary service began to creep across the room in the same way that, gently, menthol cigarette smoke crept from under the door of the teachers' lounge. My eyes fell to her checkered New Wave knee-high socks, and I thought, Liza's not New Wave. Then she sneered a "My parents were there," rolling her eyes and kicking her feet out into the aisle between desks. Liza didn't need the whole bat mitzvah treatment. She was a teenager in that moment.

From the Hardcover edition.

Read More Show Less

Table of Contents

Notions of Roller-Rink Infinity 1

The Heyday of Dag 34

If I Could Pay You Less, I Would 70

The Gangsters 120

To Prevent Flare-Ups 160

Breathing Tips of Great American Beatboxers 105

Tonight We Improvise 223

The Black National Anthem 255

Read More Show Less

Foreword

1. How does each of Benji’s comrades (Reggie, NP, Randy, Bobby, Marcus, Clive) contribute to the group? What challenges do they face as friends?

2. Explain the differences between Benji’s age group and that of his sister. During these years, why is the disparity between high school and college so acute?

3. Benji comments that “the rock” on the beach near his beach house serves as a racial barrier. White people won’t walk much further past it. What similar examples can you think of that exist today or in your own community? How have racial barriers changed in the last 20 years? How are they still the same?

4. The emergence of hip-hop is a strong influence in the lives of Benji and his friends. In what ways does music affect their generation? In what ways has music affected your own life?

5. Benji grapples with his identity throughout the novel. At one point he states:

According to the world we were the definition of a paradox: black boys with beach houses. A paradox to the outside, but it never occurred to us that there was anything strange about it.” (Pg. 57)

How is this community a paradox? How is Benji’s identity shaped by the two worlds he inhabits, both during the school year, and then during the summer season?

6. Benji often refers to the handshake, song, and/or dance he will surely conquer by the “end” of the summer. To what degree is he constantly trying to reinvent himself?

7. What do you think are the characteristics of a typical 1980’s adolescent? How does Benji fit the stereotype? How is he different?

8. Benji clearly realizestoward the end of the summer that what he loves, is perhaps not the girls he pines after, but his beach home and “what he put into it.” He reflects back on a tender moment with his family and the fond memories of being a child. What is it about our childhoods that evoke such special memories within us? Is there a place from your own past that touched your life as Sag Harbor touched Benji?

9. Throughout the novel there looms a hint of darkness behind the relationship between Benji’s father and his family. His father seems to have a violent strain. How does this affect Benji and his family? What is the role of the father in a young man’s coming of age?

10. From Catcher in the Rye to Stand By Me, the coming-of-age novel is a perennial in American literature. What do you think is so appealing and universal about this genre?

Read More Show Less

Reading Group Guide

1. How does each of Benji’s comrades (Reggie, NP, Randy, Bobby, Marcus, Clive) contribute to the group? What challenges do they face as friends?

2. Explain the differences between Benji’s age group and that of his sister. During these years, why is the disparity between high school and college so acute?

3. Benji comments that “the rock” on the beach near his beach house serves as a racial barrier. White people won’t walk much further past it. What similar examples can you think of that exist today or in your own community? How have racial barriers changed in the last 20 years? How are they still the same?

4. The emergence of hip-hop is a strong influence in the lives of Benji and his friends. In what ways does music affect their generation? In what ways has music affected your own life?

5. Benji grapples with his identity throughout the novel. At one point he states:

According to the world we were the definition of a paradox: black boys with beach houses. A paradox to the outside, but it never occurred to us that there was anything strange about it.” (Pg. 57)

How is this community a paradox? How is Benji’s identity shaped by the two worlds he inhabits, both during the school year, and then during the summer season?

6. Benji often refers to the handshake, song, and/or dance he will surely conquer by the “end” of the summer. To what degree is he constantly trying to reinvent himself?

7. What do you think are the characteristics of a typical 1980’s adolescent? How does Benji fit the stereotype? How is he different?

8. Benji clearly realizes toward the end of the summer that what he loves, is perhaps not the girls he pines after, but his beach home and “what he put into it.” He reflects back on a tender moment with his family and the fond memories of being a child. What is it about our childhoods that evoke such special memories within us? Is there a place from your own past that touched your life as Sag Harbor touched Benji?

9. Throughout the novel there looms a hint of darkness behind the relationship between Benji’s father and his family. His father seems to have a violent strain. How does this affect Benji and his family? What is the role of the father in a young man’s coming of age?

10. From Catcher in the Rye to Stand By Me, the coming-of-age novel is a perennial in American literature. What do you think is so appealing and universal about this genre?

Read More Show Less

Customer Reviews

Average Rating 3.5
( 116 )
Rating Distribution

5 Star

(25)

4 Star

(35)

3 Star

(28)

2 Star

(20)

1 Star

(8)

Your Rating:

Your Name: Create a Pen Name or

Barnes & Noble.com Review Rules

Our reader reviews allow you to share your comments on titles you liked, or didn't, with others. By submitting an online review, you are representing to Barnes & Noble.com that all information contained in your review is original and accurate in all respects, and that the submission of such content by you and the posting of such content by Barnes & Noble.com does not and will not violate the rights of any third party. Please follow the rules below to help ensure that your review can be posted.

Reviews by Our Customers Under the Age of 13

We highly value and respect everyone's opinion concerning the titles we offer. However, we cannot allow persons under the age of 13 to have accounts at BN.com or to post customer reviews. Please see our Terms of Use for more details.

What to exclude from your review:

Please do not write about reviews, commentary, or information posted on the product page. If you see any errors in the information on the product page, please send us an email.

Reviews should not contain any of the following:

  • - HTML tags, profanity, obscenities, vulgarities, or comments that defame anyone
  • - Time-sensitive information such as tour dates, signings, lectures, etc.
  • - Single-word reviews. Other people will read your review to discover why you liked or didn't like the title. Be descriptive.
  • - Comments focusing on the author or that may ruin the ending for others
  • - Phone numbers, addresses, URLs
  • - Pricing and availability information or alternative ordering information
  • - Advertisements or commercial solicitation

Reminder:

  • - By submitting a review, you grant to Barnes & Noble.com and its sublicensees the royalty-free, perpetual, irrevocable right and license to use the review in accordance with the Barnes & Noble.com Terms of Use.
  • - Barnes & Noble.com reserves the right not to post any review -- particularly those that do not follow the terms and conditions of these Rules. Barnes & Noble.com also reserves the right to remove any review at any time without notice.
  • - See Terms of Use for other conditions and disclaimers.
Search for Products You'd Like to Recommend

Recommend other products that relate to your review. Just search for them below and share!

Create a Pen Name

Your Pen Name is your unique identity on BN.com. It will appear on the reviews you write and other website activities. Your Pen Name cannot be edited, changed or deleted once submitted.

 
Your Pen Name can be any combination of alphanumeric characters (plus - and _), and must be at least two characters long.

Continue Anonymously
See All Sort by: Showing 1 – 20 of 116 Customer Reviews
  • Posted March 9, 2009

    more from this reviewer

    I Also Recommend:

    Plot Please

    They say if you don't get into a book in the first 50 pages, it's probably not for you. I gave it 80 pages. I wanted to like this book. I liked the characters in the beginning, and the trip down memory lane but...it kept on walking down that lane, relying on touching something that might make us reminisce long enough to just keep going. I need more than that. I need a plot, to know a story is going somewhere, internal or external but going somewhere. This to me after that many pages, was still in the same place. I became bored and the characters also began to bore me, so I had to give it up. Nice writing style, but not my cup of tea.

    6 out of 7 people found this review helpful.

    Was this review helpful? Yes  No   Report this review
  • Posted March 14, 2009

    more from this reviewer

    Thought Provoking, Humorous, and Engrossing

    This is a wonderfully written coming of age story. The prose is thought-provoking, humorous, and engrossing. The author uses humor to effectively bring important issues to the reader's consciousness. The author brings the reader back to the 1980's and all the quirky happenings of that time; New Coke - need I say more. We also get a view into the issues that race and class present for teenagers just trying to learn how to fit in to such a complicated world. Also important is the realization and subsequent respect of our history and what generations before us went through and accomplished so that we may live as we do today. It is coming to terms with/recognizing that things we take for granted now were fought for and a price was paid by those who fought for them. The book starts out somewhat light-heartedly and then slowly weaves in the darkness that comes with family dysfunction and alcoholism. It is a well-rounded, funny, and sometimes heart-breaking story of growing up in a world full of choices and consequences.

    5 out of 7 people found this review helpful.

    Was this review helpful? Yes  No   Report this review
  • Posted March 16, 2009

    Sag Harbor

    Sag Harbor by Colson Whitehead isn't a book I would typically have chosen at the bookstore to read. So I'm glad I joined in the Barnes and Nobles First Look Book club experience which exposed me to this story. It is truly a coming of age story during the 1980's. The story struck a chord with me, because even though I was 26 at the time versus Benji's 15, his experiences brought back many memories from that period of time, plus when I was his age. The music, the special handshakes, ditching your best friend for a date, trying to impress the opposite sex, sibling rivalry and of course, trying to fit in. Benji's story not only explores the life of a teenager trying to be a teenager and fit in, but all the issues of family, friends, race and social life.

    The story is interesting, humorous, thought provoking, heart rendering at times and I highly recommend it.

    3 out of 3 people found this review helpful.

    Was this review helpful? Yes  No   Report this review
  • Posted March 11, 2009

    more from this reviewer

    Boys Only?

    When this book first arrived in the mail my husband took one look and said, "you aren't going to like this book...I might like it, but you won't." I disagreed with him. However half-way through the book, I realized what he meant. I think it's more of a "boy" book, if that makes sense.
    I was excited that the book was set in the mid-80's, but in retrospect that had very little to do with the story. In addition I found the growing disconnect within the family depressing.
    I thought the story started off at a great pace, but quickly slowed almost to a halt for me. I guess all in all, there were not enough parallels between my life and the authors for it to sound any chords in my mind or imagination.

    3 out of 4 people found this review helpful.

    Was this review helpful? Yes  No   Report this review
  • Posted April 13, 2009

    I wasn't thrill by this novel

    I truly cannot say that this book captured my interest and that I "had" to finish it. On the contrary, I really had to push myself to take the time to read it.
    Nevertheless, I don't think it is badly written and I am more inclined to think that it is due to the fact that I am not an american and, besides I wasn't raised here. Therefore, I am sure there are many subtles things that I haven't catched; many cultural details I am missing, etc.
    I can not recommend the book nor could I express a knowledgeable opinion about it.

    2 out of 3 people found this review helpful.

    Was this review helpful? Yes  No   Report this review
  • Posted April 3, 2009

    SNOOZE

    The book did NOT hold my interest at all, which I find strange since I was one of those African-American kids who spent my school days in predominantly white schools and my summers in Sag Harbor or Martha's Vineyard.

    There were too many useless details to keep me interested. I didn't even bother to finish the book.

    2 out of 3 people found this review helpful.

    Was this review helpful? Yes  No   Report this review
  • Posted March 23, 2009

    Guess that I'm not the Target Audience!

    A coming of age story set in 1985 might be relevant to my children, but it missed with me by quite a distance. Colson Whitehead's "Sag Harbor" is well written; his language is engaging. But my thrall with the book ended there. Just when I began to think that we were actually getting to an engrossing plot line within the story, Whitehead would add so many historic tangents and examples that I would lose the original point. When he would bring us back, then it was abrupt and anti-climactic. Other factors that would have been interesting to explore, like the effect of his parents rocky relationship on his maturation, were simply glossed over. All that said, Whitehead does have a very comfortable way with words, which is what kept me reading to the end. So as a white, middle-class matron, I feel that I couldn't relate to enough of the story to find some common ground for enjoyment. I hope that you can!

    2 out of 2 people found this review helpful.

    Was this review helpful? Yes  No   Report this review
  • Posted March 19, 2009

    more from this reviewer

    Tried to like this nice guy...

    I've written this review from 42 angles and deleted each one. Reading Sag Harbor was laborious for me. To top it all off, I watched an interview with the author and found him to be really great. I hate that. I don't want to talk crap about his book. Those of you interested in a different slant on the standard coming of age tale might finish this one. I couldn't.

    And that always makes me feel so small, not being able to appreciate a story. If we read to escape our known world, to learn about peoples and places different from our own, then shouldn't this old, poor, white woman be able to enjoy a witty, funny tale of a rich, black boy? I kept trying, but the sarcastic tone and jumbled scenes were too much for me.

    Sag Harbor is certainly a different angle on the standard coming-of-age tale, but I'm just not great with rich kids. Example? I kept screaming at Holden Caulfield to 'just go home.'

    2 out of 2 people found this review helpful.

    Was this review helpful? Yes  No   Report this review
  • Anonymous

    Posted May 3, 2009

    absolutely beautiful book

    similar in style to Marilynne Robinson's works - where every word is holy, and every scene means something else....

    i took much of it to be an allegorical tale of blacks coming of age in this country....one in which cultural differences are overshadowed by the sameness of our experience...

    oh..plus it's hysterical....

    1 out of 2 people found this review helpful.

    Was this review helpful? Yes  No   Report this review
  • Posted March 31, 2009

    more from this reviewer

    Sag Harbor is a blast from the past

    Colson Whitehead's coming of age novel manages to step back in time to 1985 and catch a year in the life of an affluent black student that will resonate with readers young and old. Benji Cooper is 15, lives a life many would envy. "A Cosby family" with a prewar classic 7 in New York City, Benji has a father who is a doctor and a mother who is a lawyer. And like other affluent families, Benji spends the summer on Sag Harbor in a neighborhood where blacks and whites live separate lives. Whitehead manages to to take us back to a year when life is still sweet for Benji who is coming of age and is handed the luxury of a summer for the most part free of parental supervision. Sag Harbor is an enjoyable read that manages to accurately depict a pivotal year in the life of a young man seeking to learn about girls and himself and how he fits in. The author expertly draws a picture of what life was like for the token black in prep school who gets to escape to a community when every family consists of African-American professionals. So take a trip down memory lane back to 1985 and relive all those moments along with Benji. You won't regret it no matter how old you are!

    1 out of 1 people found this review helpful.

    Was this review helpful? Yes  No   Report this review
  • Posted March 29, 2009

    Delightful

    Colson Whitehead is truly very talented, and a master of description. Yes, the book is filled with description, not so much of things, but of events, memories, and experiences.

    Be prepared to be drawn into his world. It may or may not be one you can relate to, but for me, even though my upbringing was very different, the teenage experience rang true. Isn't being a teenager laregly about overcoming awkwardness and discovering who you are inside your own skin? And yet it happens so slowly and painfully....again, another point that rang true was the dysfunctional aspects of his family...they were there in the background, yet his summer still managed to be about the summer job, the girls, the friends, and the goofing off.

    If you enjoy a realistic retrospective type plot, rather than high drama, then I highly recommend.

    1 out of 1 people found this review helpful.

    Was this review helpful? Yes  No   Report this review
  • Posted March 27, 2009

    Just Ok

    I had a hard time with this book. It is more a set of short stories than an actual novel, and each chapter seems to end before the story is actually over. In each case, I wanted more; I wanted to know what happened!

    My favorite parts of the books were the descriptions of the summer job the main character held. I had a similar job in high school and I could easily put myself in the Jonni Waffle to see what was going on.

    1 out of 1 people found this review helpful.

    Was this review helpful? Yes  No   Report this review
  • Posted March 27, 2009

    Enlightening

    Sag Harbor is a very interesting, though sometimes difficult, read. A reminiscing of middle class Afro-American teenagers' summers by the shores of New England. Although very fanciful and funny, the story line did not flow smoothly. I found myself rereading various phases in order to make sense of what was taking place or being said.

    1 out of 1 people found this review helpful.

    Was this review helpful? Yes  No   Report this review
  • Posted March 26, 2009

    Dag!

    Sag Harbor is the first book that I've read by Colson Whitehead. I really enjoyed reading this book. It's a story about a summer in Sag Harbor and much more. The author goes into great detail and touches on subjects that kept me reminiscing my youth. I was a lot like Benji, I think that is why I enjoyed this book so much. The closer I got to the end, the more I kept thinking "I don't want this book to end."

    1 out of 1 people found this review helpful.

    Was this review helpful? Yes  No   Report this review
  • Anonymous

    Posted March 24, 2009

    "Ain't No Stopping Us Now"

    This book is a delightful read, no matter what age you are. Mr. Whitehead has captured a summer vacation on Sag Harbor for Benji, (the main character), his family and friends so well that I feel like I was there. The summer of 1985 for the Community of African-Americans and particularly life for the teens and tweens at Sag Harbor was funny, thoughtful and a re-read for me.

    1 out of 1 people found this review helpful.

    Was this review helpful? Yes  No   Report this review
  • Posted March 15, 2009

    more from this reviewer

    A story anyone who lived through the 80's or was ever a teenager can enjoy.

    We are introduced to Benji and his family as they make their annual summer long trek out to Sag Harbor. The community of the upper/upper middle class African Americans who want to have their own summer place, just like their white counterparts.

    The writing style takes a little to get used to but once I was hooked the writing didn't matter only the story did. At times it seemed as if one tale had little or nothing to do with the next but as you step back and look at the story as a whole everything is there for a reason.

    I quickly grew attached to Benji and short of a few incidents he seems to be a really good kid, just trying to find his place between two societies. The white prep-school kids he's with at school and his black Sag Harbor friends that he shares his summers with. We are also taken into the 80's with catch phrases like "Dag" and the music that is so often referred to in this book. And anyone who's been a teenager can relate to the situations that Benji finds himself in.

    Overall this is one of the best books I've read recently.

    1 out of 1 people found this review helpful.

    Was this review helpful? Yes  No   Report this review
  • Posted March 14, 2009

    more from this reviewer

    Sag Harbor

    Colson Whitehead calls this his "autobiographical fourth novel" and in it he takes the reader back to the Sag Harbor he remembers from the mid 80s. The story is all about fitting in. Our protagonist, Benji, comes from a Cosby-esc family; is one of a few kids-of-color in a private New York Prep school; and spends his summers at Sag Harbor. The book is composed of a series of short vignettes that focus in on Benji's coming-of-age during one Sag Harbor summer. I would recommend this book for book clubs since it raises many issues that I feel would spark some interesting discussions.

    1 out of 1 people found this review helpful.

    Was this review helpful? Yes  No   Report this review
  • Posted March 13, 2009

    Not so much

    I had a very difficult time trying to get into this book. I don't have a ton of time to dedicate for reading, so a book needs to grab me within the first 6 chapters, otherwise I move on. This book had an interesting writing style, but it took too many jumps in the thoughts to make a clear picture to me.

    1 out of 2 people found this review helpful.

    Was this review helpful? Yes  No   Report this review
  • Posted March 10, 2009

    more from this reviewer

    Boys will be boys

    Mr Whitehead gives us his semi autobiographical novel Sag Harbor, in it he describes life as known by Benji a fifteen year old left to his own devices one summer.
    It's funny and touching and gives us a sense of what it felt like to be him, and I'm glad to have been there for the ride.
    The writing is impeccable, his use of phrases and his impressions of different scenes made it easy for me to visualize the goings on in the book. Even though the story isn't unique, a coming of age book for a boy, the telling of it is, and it was done with humor and insight that could only come from personal experience. The characters were also outstanding, they were well developed and multi-dimensional which is a real feat being they are mostly compiled of adolescent boys.
    I would highly recommend this book to any one who enjoys great writing, outstanding humor and a look into what it means to be a boy of 15.

    1 out of 1 people found this review helpful.

    Was this review helpful? Yes  No   Report this review
  • Posted March 9, 2009

    An interesting book

    Sag Harbor reminded me of just how painfully dorky I was as a teenager. I think I like reading these kinds of memoirs because they help me remember that I was not alone in my awkwardness. Colson Whitehead (called Benji in this book) struggled with the difference between Sag Harbor, where his family vacationed, and New York, where they lived. The culture and race differences were very noticeable, and in addition to having to grow up, he also had to figure out who he was and where he belonged. While Whitehead did have a tendency to go overboard and get sidetracked with descriptions, I still enjoyed the book and it had many funny moments.

    1 out of 1 people found this review helpful.

    Was this review helpful? Yes  No   Report this review
See All Sort by: Showing 1 – 20 of 116 Customer Reviews

If you find inappropriate content, please report it to Barnes & Noble
Why is this product inappropriate?
Comments (optional)