Work Shirts for Madmen

Overview

PRAISE FOR WORK SHIRTS FOR MADMEN

 

"Smackover funny and rare, many of Singleton's laughs come from deep wit and not easy southern eccentricities and the rough-screeching Skoal crowd."—Barry Hannah, author of Yonder Stands Your Orphan

"George Singleton writes like a irreverent genius with his finger on the pulse of an American culture gone as absurd as the price you recently paid a dermatologist. But if ...

See more details below
Available through our Marketplace sellers.
Other sellers (Hardcover)
  • All (35) from $1.99   
  • New (8) from $1.99   
  • Used (27) from $1.99   
Close
Sort by
Page 1 of 1
Showing All
Note: Marketplace items are not eligible for any BN.com coupons and promotions
$1.99
Seller since 2010

Feedback rating:

(962)

Condition:

New — never opened or used in original packaging.

Like New — packaging may have been opened. A "Like New" item is suitable to give as a gift.

Very Good — may have minor signs of wear on packaging but item works perfectly and has no damage.

Good — item is in good condition but packaging may have signs of shelf wear/aging or torn packaging. All specific defects should be noted in the Comments section associated with each item.

Acceptable — item is in working order but may show signs of wear such as scratches or torn packaging. All specific defects should be noted in the Comments section associated with each item.

Used — An item that has been opened and may show signs of wear. All specific defects should be noted in the Comments section associated with each item.

Refurbished — A used item that has been renewed or updated and verified to be in proper working condition. Not necessarily completed by the original manufacturer.

New
Hardcover New 0151013071 Friendly Return Policy. A+++ Customer Service!

Ships from: Philadelphia, PA

Usually ships in 1-2 business days

  • Canadian
  • International
  • Standard, 48 States
  • Standard (AK, HI)
  • Express, 48 States
  • Express (AK, HI)
$1.99
Seller since 2011

Feedback rating:

(770)

Condition: New
Hardcover New 0151013071 SERVING OUR CUSTOMERS WITH BEST PRICES. FROM A COMPANY YOU TRUST, HUGE SELECTION. RELIABLE CUSTOMER SERVICE! ! HASSLE FREE RETURN POLICY, SATISFACTION ... GURANTEED**** Read more Show Less

Ships from: Philadelphia, PA

Usually ships in 1-2 business days

  • Canadian
  • International
  • Standard, 48 States
  • Standard (AK, HI)
  • Express, 48 States
  • Express (AK, HI)
$1.99
Seller since 2014

Feedback rating:

(294)

Condition: New
Hardcover New 0151013071 XCITING PRICES JUST FOR YOU. Ships within 24 hours. Best customer service. 100% money back return policy.

Ships from: Bensalem, PA

Usually ships in 1-2 business days

  • Canadian
  • International
  • Standard, 48 States
  • Standard (AK, HI)
  • Express, 48 States
  • Express (AK, HI)
$1.99
Seller since 2014

Feedback rating:

(440)

Condition: New
Hardcover New 0151013071! ! KNOWLEDGE IS POWER! ! ENJOY OUR BEST PRICES! ! ! Ships Fast. All standard orders delivered within 5 to 12 business days.

Ships from: Southampton, PA

Usually ships in 1-2 business days

  • Canadian
  • International
  • Standard, 48 States
  • Standard (AK, HI)
  • Express, 48 States
  • Express (AK, HI)
$1.99
Seller since 2010

Feedback rating:

(722)

Condition: New
Hardcover New 0151013071! ! ! ! BEST PRICES WITH A SERVICE YOU CAN RELY! ! !

Ships from: Philadelphia, PA

Usually ships in 1-2 business days

  • Canadian
  • International
  • Standard, 48 States
  • Standard (AK, HI)
  • Express, 48 States
  • Express (AK, HI)
$1.99
Seller since 2009

Feedback rating:

(2444)

Condition: New
2007-09-17 Hardcover 1 New 0151013071 Ships Within 24 Hours. Tracking Number available for all USA orders. Excellent Customer Service. Upto 15 Days 100% Money Back Gurantee. Try ... Our Fast! ! ! ! Shipping With Tracking Number. Read more Show Less

Ships from: Bensalem, PA

Usually ships in 1-2 business days

  • Canadian
  • International
  • Standard, 48 States
  • Standard (AK, HI)
  • Express, 48 States
  • Express (AK, HI)
$1.99
Seller since 2005

Feedback rating:

(95)

Condition: New
NY 2007 First Edition New with DJ Hardcover. Signed by Author Signed by author on title page NEW.

Ships from: Decatur, GA

Usually ships in 1-2 business days

  • Canadian
  • International
  • Standard, 48 States
  • Standard (AK, HI)
  • Express, 48 States
  • Express (AK, HI)
$1.99
Seller since 2008

Feedback rating:

(16034)

Condition: New
Brand New!. New dust jacket.

Ships from: Frederick, MD

Usually ships in 1-2 business days

  • Canadian
  • International
  • Standard, 48 States
  • Standard (AK, HI)
  • Express, 48 States
  • Express (AK, HI)
Page 1 of 1
Showing All
Close
Sort by
Work Shirts for Madmen

Available on NOOK devices and apps  
  • NOOK Devices
  • Samsung Galaxy Tab 4 NOOK
  • NOOK HD/HD+ Tablet
  • NOOK
  • 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)
$10.49
BN.com price
(Save 25%)$14.00 List Price

Overview

PRAISE FOR WORK SHIRTS FOR MADMEN

 

"Smackover funny and rare, many of Singleton's laughs come from deep wit and not easy southern eccentricities and the rough-screeching Skoal crowd."—Barry Hannah, author of Yonder Stands Your Orphan

"George Singleton writes like a irreverent genius with his finger on the pulse of an American culture gone as absurd as the price you recently paid a dermatologist. But if you happen to be a physician, or therapist, better skip this one . . . or if you wear one of those little American flags in your lapel, better skip this one, et cetera. But if you want a short-time, sentence-by-sentence, explosive pleasure, or a long-time pleasure brought by a story with a beating pulse that you can live inside of for awhile, and remember forever, then take this on over to the cash register."—Clyde Edgerton, author of Lunch at the Piccadilly

 

PRAISE FOR GEORGE SINGLETON

 

"George Singleton writes about the rural South without sentimentality or stereotype but with plenty of sharp-witted humor.... A raconteur of trends, counter-trends, obsessions and odd characters." —Morning Edition, NPR

 

"Singleton is an ace at locating the pathos beneath the deadpan laughs."—USA Today

Read More Show Less

Editorial Reviews

Kirkus Reviews
A nominally comic novel in which a Southern artist contends with his wife, his drinking, his buddies and his out-of-control life. Sculptor Harp Spillman has been so far inside the bourbon bottle that when word comes to him he's won a commission from Birmingham, Ala., to construct a dozen 12-foot metal angels out of nuts and bolts, he can't remember having even applied. It turns out that he hadn't. His wife, Raylou, applied on Harp's behalf, believing that a healthy artistic focus-and the promise of a healthy paycheck-would help him quit drinking, at least temporarily. Raylou is a craftsman who, as narrator Harp informs us, makes "goofball face jugs" whose popularity defies rational scrutiny. "Goofball" is not a bad description of the novel as a whole, for the narrative begins with Raylou rescuing snapping turtles from a biotoxicologist. We also find out that Harp's reputation as a sculptor is on the skids because ice sculptures he cunningly crafted for a Republican fundraiser revealed other images as they melted: a Grand Wizard under the sculpture of Jesse Helms, Mussolini under Strom Thurmond and Lucifer under Charlton Heston. Harp tries to straighten himself out through the 12-step program of Carolina Behavior but resists much of the way. Singleton sets up a series of comic plot contrivances-for example, it turns out that Frank and Joe's metalwork business has been split up into Joe's Nuts and Frank's Bolts-but they don't add up to much. This is the kind of novel in which the narrator eats Mallo Cups, Hershey Kisses and Little Debbie cakes and washes them all down with Yoo-hoo, and characters play Drunken Jeopardy, whose categories include moonshine, famous characters from Tennessee("Jim Beam") and whiskies with a wild-animal theme ("Old Crow," "Wild Turkey"). The canned southern whimsy is rather self-consciously cute and provides gags rather than character development. Agent: Liz Darhansoff/Darhansoff, Verrill, Feldman Literary Agents
From the Publisher

PRAISE FOR WORK SHIRTS FOR MADMEN
 
"If there is a fiction genre blending the riotous, bleary-eyed excess and absurdity of gonzo journalism with the rather earnest sensitivity of a John Irving hero—who always does right by his wife in the end—Work Shirts belongs to it . . . it’s a fun read . . . an adventure to be undertaken."—Newsweek

PRAISE FOR GEORGE SINGLETON
 
"George Singleton writes about the rural South without sentimentality or stereotype but with plenty of sharp-witted humor . . . A raconteur of trends, counter-trends, obsessions and odd characters."—NPR Morning Edition

 

Read More Show Less

Product Details

  • ISBN-13: 9780151013074
  • Publisher: Houghton Mifflin Harcourt
  • Publication date: 9/17/2007
  • Pages: 336
  • Product dimensions: 5.80 (w) x 8.30 (h) x 1.20 (d)

Meet the Author

GEORGE SINGLETON lives in Pickens County, South Carolina, with ceramicist Glenda Guion and their mixture of strays. More than a hundred of his stories have been published nationally in magazines and anthologies. He teaches writing at the South Carolina Governor's School for the Arts and Humanities.

Read More Show Less

Read an Excerpt

Work Shirts for Madmen


By Singleton, George

Harcourt

Copyright © 2007 Singleton, George
All right reserved.

ISBN: 9780151013074

1
 
You’d think that, being a saturated and memory-lost drunk, I would’ve been the one who stole the twelve snapping turtles, but it was my wife Raylou behind the entire operation, from original vision to relocation. I didn’t even know she had an interest in the plight of nontraditional lab animals, never mind the moral bridges certain toxicologists were choosing to cross. Maybe I didn’t pay enough attention. Raylou shook me awake from the floor of my Quonset-hut workspace one dawn and told me she needed a steep-sided three-foot-deep pool chiseled into our yard by the time she got home that night. She told me to line it with plastic and the ceramic earthenware tiles she’d fired in the electric kiln a week earlier. She said she had enough for about a 240-square-foot area. I, of course, opened my eyes, tried to remember the past twenty-four hours, and thought about how this was too much math for me to ever remember. Raylou said she’d written out the phone number of her lawyer friend Darren—a man who over the past ten years had bought more than a hundred wood kiln–fired scary-face jugs from my wife—on the To Do list stuck on our refrigerator, should she get caught and need bail money. Raylou would have her cell phone with her, she said, but asked me not to call in case she needed to quietly stake out this female biotoxicologist somewhere between theLester Maddox and George Wallace boat landings on the Georgia/Alabama border, far from where we lived.
 
           I nodded, but tried to think if “biotoxicologists” really existed. And I pretended to know exactly what she was talking about, seeing as I felt sure she’d told me all about this particular ploy some time within the previous week, month, or year. That’s how I operated back then, mostly. I’m not proud, embarrassed, or ashamed. At the time, I figured that drinking helped me to conceive the original ice sculptures that I sold and displayed at weddings, corporate functions, and the occasional bar or bat mitzvah down in Charleston.
 
           I don’t think that my wife kissed me good-bye there on the cement floor, but she didn’t cluck her tongue in a your-reputation’s-been-ruined way, either. After I heard her drive my refrigeration truck down the driveway I got up, walked past an unused shovel, and grabbed work gloves, two chisels, and a twelve-pound hammer. It seemed right to have a project.
 
           Now, our chosen homestead stood atop a mica-flecked and pine tree–deficient granite hill known as Ember Glow, a bulge in upstate South Carolina that, according to past settlers and present-day aviators alike, sparkled even on sliver-mooned nights. Raylou and I bought twenty acres of what Hollywood sci-fi movie directors dream about—our place didn’t look dissimilar to Saint-Exupéry’s Asteroid B-612, is what I’m saying.
 
           The previous four or five generations of owners, a family named Coomer—of questionable genes, moral standards, and rational capacities—spent their time believing that they’d find a vein of gold somewhere on Ember Glow. I wished that they had dug three-foot-deep holes instead of the narrow bores that were twenty feet deep and wide enough only to be a danger for misstepping stargazers, drunks, blind people, and awkward stray dogs. They didn’t find gold, of course, and over the years they got buried, from what I understood, standing straight up in the graves that they unknowingly dug in their youth. One remaining Coomer named Jinks finally decided to give up the family dream, and sold us the house and land for the same amount of money his great-grandfather spent on the place during the Reconstruction. Then Jinks Coomer moved to Nevada because, according to him, he could get a civilian job with the government seeing as he had firsthand knowledge of missile silos and barren landscapes.
            I chiseled and pried and scraped and tossed chunks of granite, releasing amber bourbon toxins out of pores I had never noticed before, until the sun stood halfway between me and the horizon. Who sweats from his elbows and the tops of his feet? I went inside to get one of Raylou’s crystalline-rock–aquifer, double-oxygenated, reverse-osmosised bottles of spring water that cost something like five bucks a pint because a special order of monks siphoned and blessed the stuff down in Louisiana, and saw her refrigerator notes—one for the lawyer, another reminding me that I promised to check myself into outpatient rehab before I got fired officially and lost my insurance.
 
           I said out loud to no one, “Oh, man, those hot television lights did me in,” and started remembering everything that I hoped wasn’t really true. Like only a worthwhile desperate guilty drunk can do, I got in our other car, drove down Ember Glow’s hard, shiny road, and didn’t stop until I found a pet-supply joint thirty miles away that sold the Whisper Internal Filter System 10-20 with its large carbon ultra-activated cartridge, so Raylou’s newly rescued snapping turtles wouldn’t have to live in their own waste.
 
           I bought a dozen, and put in an order for more.
 
           When I got home I would’ve installed the things, too, had I not found one last bottle of Old Crow stashed behind my ice-sculpting tools back in the Quonset hut and then taken a nap on the same spot where I began the day.
 
 
It’s not like I ever kept a diary of my drinking escapades, but it wasn’t hard to recall that I’d gone from drinking mostly beer when I could get it, back before I was fifteen, to nothing but bourbon by college. And then from graduation until age thirty-eight I went from not drinking until after five o’clock in the afternoon all the way to drinking as soon as I woke up. I went from taking days—even weeks—off to being able to fit three good drunks into one twenty-four-hour period. Sometimes a fifth didn’t seem to affect me; other times I got wasted on two or three drinks.
 
           My liver went from confusion to apathy, it seemed.
 
           I went from receiving regular outdoor-metal-sculpture commissions from various cities—walk around Atlanta, Savannah, Richmond, Charlotte, Nashville, Cincinnati, and Greensboro, for instance, and more than likely you’ll bump into a giant Harp Spillman structure that’s usually in front of a bank or CVS Pharmacy—to not being able to think of anything new whatsoever. As Raylou’s reputation as a traditional potter grew nationwide, my reputation as an avant-garde welder diminished. It took fifty hate letters detailing everything I said and did in a drunken stupor at a particular unveiling before I said fuck it all and threw my acetylene torch down one of the man-made mini-caves on Ember Glow.
 
           This might’ve been around the Ides of March, 2001. Within the year I was pretty much broke, so I contacted Ice-o-Thermal, a chain of ice-sculpture fabricators that hired artists, caterers, florists, butchers, and interior decorators who either couldn’t make ends meet in their chosen field or had fallen to has-been status. Ice-o-Thermal sent along instructional videotapes and a dozen molds. Its employees provided their own workspaces, which meant someone like me had to convert part of my Quonset-hut studio into a deep freezer.

            I don’t want to brag, but within eighteen months Ice-o-Thermal executives were impressed by my freestyle ice sculptures. I didn’t use those little ice angels in a punch bowl or dolphins in midair above a tray of sushi. No, I received work orders from the home office, brainstormed the best I could in my condition, and invented one-of-a-kind sculptures to fit any occasion. For one particular wedding reception I learned that the bride and groom both took ROTC in college and that they would be joining the army as first lieutenants directly after their honeymoon. It took some time and experimentation, but I carved out an ice howitzer that—using the same techniques as that of a potato gun—fired a plastic bride and groom right onto the wedding cake. At a fund-raiser for a history museum down in Greenville I built an ice replica of Stonehenge at half-scale, which was still so big that I had to set up the thing out on the front lawn. When it finally melted a couple days later, the water clogged up the storm drains out on the street and a road crew had to show up.
 
           The bottom line goes something like this: The CEO of Ice-o-Thermal, Fulton Dupont—oh, he liked to point out immediately that he could’ve gone on with his life as part of the family’s giant chemical company, but early on he got himself disowned—drove down from the home office in Dover, Delaware, and offered me a regional vice-president position overseeing all of the ice sculptors in the Carolinas, Georgia, and Tennessee. I, of course, declined, seeing as I still, through bourbon haziness, saw myself as an artist, not a corporate type. But I did threaten to quit unless I got some benefits, most importantly health and dental insurance.

Copyright © 2007 by George Singleton
 
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopy, recording, or any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the publisher.
 
Requests for permission to make copies of any part of the work should be submitted online at www.harcourt.com/contact or mailed to the following address: Permissions Department, Harcourt, Inc., 6277 Sea Harbor Drive, Orlando, Florida 32887-6777.

Continues...

Excerpted from Work Shirts for Madmen by Singleton, George Copyright © 2007 by Singleton, George. Excerpted by permission.
All rights reserved. No part of this excerpt may be reproduced or reprinted without permission in writing from the publisher.
Excerpts are provided by Dial-A-Book Inc. solely for the personal use of visitors to this web site.
Read More Show Less

Customer Reviews

Be the first to write a review
( 0 )
Rating Distribution

5 Star

(0)

4 Star

(0)

3 Star

(0)

2 Star

(0)

1 Star

(0)

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

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