The return of nonfiction

By rights, this post's title should be lit up in title case because, Jesus, it's been a while.

The last nonfiction thing I read was glorious The Return of the Crazy Bird, but it was long ago. It feels like I last read nonfiction when that little chubby chubster was still dawdling around Rodrigues.

But on Friday I came across The Best American Essays, 2008, which really are something else. I've read four:

• Patricia Brieschke
  
  
• John Updike
• Joe Wenderoth
• David Sedaris

Updike and Sedaris were known, and great. But Brieschke and Wenderoth? Who (dare I say it, apologies in advance for my vast vast ignorance, people, reallyI'msorrybrace!) the hell are they?

I have no idea but boy they can set the pages on fire. Jesus. I know you think I'm overreacting, but wait till you read these essays. My God. Honestly.

I'll be needing some time to get over them.

The moral of this nonfiction story? If you don't know, I'm not about to point it out.