Tag: Class Clown: The Memoirs of a Professional Wiseass: How I Went 77 Years Without Growing Up

My Favorite Non-Fiction Books of 2025

On January 7, 2026

In (Auto)Biography, History, News/Misc., Non-Fiction

My 2025 Wrap-up continues and now we’re on to the Non-Fiction list. While I liked a number of works that didn’t make this list, I felt strange calling them a “favorite.” These are the ones that stuck with me through the year; the ones I cited in conversation; that I thought about when reading something else or watching something on TV. Yeah, there’s some overlap between this list and the audiobook list from yesterday—lately, most Non-Fiction books I work through are in audiobook format. So it makes sense, even if it makes this post seem like an echo.

As always, I only put books that I’ve read for the first time on this list. I don’t typically return to NF books (outside of looking up things for one or three points), but occasionally I do—for example, The Pleasures of Reading in an Age of Distraction by Alan Jacobs would get a permanent spot on this list, were it not for this rule.

(in alphabetical order by author)

Algospeak:
How Social Media Is Transforming the Future of Language

by Adam Aleksic

My original post
Language in general—but English particularly—is a constantly-changing thing, and these changes are happening faster and faster all the time. Algospeak is a great look at the hows and whys of a lot of the current evolutionary processes. It is about more than language—it’s also about how the Internet changes the way we think and express ourselves in general. And therefore, how society changes (which leads to Internet changes, and other circle-of-life things).

Aleksic has obvious expertise and passion for the subject (look at just one of his videos). He’s also active in these areas. It’s a great read, informative and entertaining. Hard to ask for more.

Class Clown: The Memoirs of a Professional Wiseass—How I Went 77 Years Without Growing Up

by Dave Barry

My original post
It comes as no surprise to any that I loved a Dave Barry book. It takes something pretty lackluster by him to get that reaction (and he doesn’t do that often–but I can prove it if you want). But this is something else–it’s insightful, it’s touching, it’s (seemingly) honest, and human. It’s a look at his childhood, his professional humorist origin story, and then scattered accounts of some of the very strange things that his profession has let him do.

I don’t say this about many authors–but I really don’t know that I’ve wondered anything about Barry’s personal life. But now that I know? I am more than happy to get some understanding about it. Does it necessarily help me understand his work better? No (but we’ll see the next time I take up his work, I guess). But it makes me like Barry the person a bit more.

Food for Thought: Essays and Ruminations

by Alton Brown

Like any good fan of a TV show/personality, I like to know how they got started, how the show was developed, etc. Brown talks about how he got into food education media–and it’s not really how you’d expect. How he moved on from Good Eats to other things. There’s some great stuff about his education. But perhaps the most rewarding portion of the book is his musing and observations on the place of food/eating to human society (writ large or on an individual level).

Really, there’s so little to not appreciate from this book. Alton Brown has spent decades thinking and writing about food. This is the result of all that.

Enshittification: Why Everything Suddenly Got Worse and What to Do About It

by Cory Doctorow

I don’t know how to talk about Doctorow’s screed against Big Tech, the policies that led to these platforms that have taken over the internet and made it less-good than it used to be. Even that sentence is not a great way to talk about the book. The book wowed me. I wouldn’t say it radicalized me on some of this, but I sort of wish it did. The Ressa book below really struck me as a giant proof for Doctorow’s case (good idea to read the two of them around the same time). It’s a great–and terrifying–read.

Everything Is Tuberculosis: The History and Persistence of Our Deadliest Infection

by John Green

I never imagined I would appreciate a book about an infectious disease. And despite all the good things I heard about this book, I didn’t rush to pick it up. But I’m so glad I did.

First of all, you could probably pick any number of things to use in place of Tuberculosis to trace human history, seemingly at major turning points and shaping societal developments. Say…bread, or writing, or…I dunno this is a sentence I regret starting. But from a certain point of view–you can buy the theory posited at the beginning of this book, that Tuberculosis shaped human history.

Green talks about the treatments that have been tried (and failed), the way it impacted population sizes, the devastation it’s left in it’s wake, and how things are going in the battle against the disease now. Interwoven with these is the story of one particular patient in Sierra Leone that Green met years ago. We follow his personal struggle–ups, downs, way downs, and more.

Green can relate these facts–even the bleak ones–in an engaging way that will stick with the reader. But then he drives it home and makes it gets you emotionally involved through the patient’s story.

You just can’t help but being taken in by the book and it’ll leave a lasting impression.

Killer Conversations with Rex Stout and John McAleer

My original post
Granted, there is a very limited audience for this kind of thing. But for that audience (and I’m part of it), this is catnip.

These snippets of conversations between Rex Stout and his biographer and friend are just wonderful. Quick back and forths on any number of topics–life, death, love, reputation, writing, Stout’s characters, his career, and more–it’s fun to read. It’s fun to think about. You’ll wish you were half as clever as Stout.

Pronoun Trouble: The Story of Us in Seven Little Words

by John McWhorter

So, sure–this looks like it’s nothing but a screed on one side or the other about the problem we’re having with third-person pronouns the a socio-political front in English. And, yes, it is about that, (but only from a linguistic point of view), but there’s more to it. There’s also that pesky second-person plural.

Like in his book, Nine Nasty Words, McWhorter gives a quick look at the history of English pronouns one at a time–looking at various forms, usages, spellings, and assorted trivia. When appropriate, the then talks about some of the contemporary challenges and controversies with them.

Completely entertaining–McWhorter’s a great narrator–and very educating. I heartily commend this to you (no matter what you think of using “they” for the third-person singular).

How to Stand Up to a Dictator: The Fight for Our Future

by Maria Ressa, read by Maria Ressa & Rebecca Mozo

Maria Ressa’s story is fascinating. It’s just that simple. I mean, you rarely find a Nobel Peace Prize recipient without an interesting backstory of some sort.

Like I said above, when you add this to Doctorow’s book and you see how everything he said is entirely possible and how it can work against someone.

There’s, of course, more than just Ressa’s story and struggles reflected here. There’s a call to action, a call to do the necessary work, and a call to hope, when it comes to oppressive governments or platforms.

Are Women Human?

by Dorothy L. Sayers

These are two essays by Sayers on the subject of women in society–with a particular look at academia. They are pointed, clear, and witty.

I’m not sure what else to say, really.

Robert E. Lee and Me:
A Southerner’s Reckoning with the Myth of the Lost Cause

by Ty Seidule

My original post

This is a powerful read. This very-Southern, Lost Cause adherent, West Point history professor starts looking at what he’d been raised believing, and the systemic racism of the culture he’d been raised in. The book then recounts example after example after example of the racism everywhere and the excuses made for covering up the treason of the Confederacy everywhere, including the U.S. Army–the army he left and fought against.

I thought Seifert made a compelling case in an engaging read that will stick with you for a long time.

Class Clown by Dave Barry: A Chuckle-Filled Peek Behind the Curtain

By HCNewton

On May 16, 2025

In (Auto)Biography, Dave Barry, Humor, Non-Fiction

Class Clown:
The Memoirs of a Professional Wiseass: How I Went 77 Years Without Growing Up

by Dave Barry,

DETAILS:
Publisher: Simon & Schuster
Publication Date: May 13, 2025
Format: eARC
Length: 256 pg.
Read Date: May 4-6, 2025

What’s Class Clown About?

It’s really all there in the subtitle: it’s Dave Barry’s memoirs about his career as a professional wiseass—primarily through his humor column, but he’s found other outlets for it, too.

Here’s some of the jacket copy to help beef that up:

America’s most beloved wiseass finally tells his life story with all the humor you’d expect from a man who made a career out of making fun of pretty much everything.

How does the son of a Presbyterian minister wind up winning a Pulitzer Prize for writing a wildly inaccurate newspaper column read by millions of people?

In Class Clown, Dave Barry takes us on a hilarious ride, starting with a childhood largely spent throwing rocks for entertainment—there was no internet—and preparing for nuclear war by hiding under a classroom desk. After literally getting elected class clown in high school, he went to college, where, as an English major, he read snippets of great literature when he was not busy playing in a rock band (it was the sixties).

He began his journalism career at a small-town Pennsylvania newspaper where he learned the most important rule of local journalism: never confuse a goose with a duck. His journey then took a detour into the business world, where as a writing consultant he spent years trying, with limited success, to get corporate folks to, for God’s sake, get the point. Somehow from there he wound up as a humor columnist for The Miami Herald, where his boss was a wild man who encouraged him to write about anything that struck him as amusing and to never worry about alienating anyone…

Class Clown isn’t just a memoir; it’s a vibrant celebration of a life rich with humor, absurdity, joy, and sadness. Dave says the most important wisdom imparted by his Midwestern parents was never to take anything too seriously. This laughter-filled book is proof that he learned that lesson well.

His Origin Story

The first four chapters are the most autobiographical part of the book—a little less than 50% of it. Here we cover his parents, his childhood, schooling, and early career—from his first newspaper job, his detour through business education, and then finding his way back to journalism and becoming a humor columnist.

This is all the nitty-gritty stuff—what were his parents like? (nothing like you’d guess) What did his childhood entail? (bad jokes and throwing things) What did he write before making money with booger jokes? And so on.

This was the more educational—in a good way, I stress—part. He wrote about is parents, in particular, with warmth and humanity. He was open about some of their struggles, but with sensitivity. I really appreciated the way he talked about his marriages—past and present—very briefly, yet definitively. There is some humor, but it’s largely self-directed, or at the culture he and his parents were in.

This is really the kind of thing you come to a memoir for, and Barry did it well. He quotes some of his more serious (and some of his less-serious) columns here to show what he’s said about these things in the past.

Topical Memories

A little over half the book is devoted to what I’m describing as “Topical Memories”—he has a chapter on things like “My Readers,” “Politics,” and “Books, Music, and Movies.” In these, he relates a collection of stories and anecdotes from all over his career along these lines.

So we get stories about the great things his readers have sent him—and some of the less positive things they’ve said. Scandals he created—inadvertently or not. How he was involved in Obama’s first inaugural parade, or had Bruce Springsteen sing backup for him, how he accidentally offended an audience of Russians by screening one of his films. I particularly enjoyed him talking about his feud with his Neil Diamond-loving readers (I’m a pretty big Diamond fan, but thought Barry’s jokes were good and deserved, for what it’s worth)

There are several extended quotations from his columns here—and we get a lot of the stories behind the columns, too. Not the nuts-and-bolts of how he wrote them, but what led to them.

If the Origin Story chapters were educational—this was recess. Just a lot of fun and goofing off, telling wild stories and recounting past glories (and blunders). It was exactly the kind of thing that Barry readers pick up his books for.

The Appendix

I don’t frequently talk about appendices; they’re supplemental material, and I prefer to focus on the main portion of the book, but every now and then, one comes along that demands attention.

For example (as you might have guessed), this appendix. It was a hoot—its title is “A Good Name for a Rock Band.” Barry (like many of us) will frequently pick up on a phrase from something he quoted and say it would be a good name for a rock band (also known by the super-easy and memorable acronym WBAGNFARB). After discussing this practice a bit, Barry gives a non-exhaustive, but extensive list of some of those bands.

I think reading them in context is best—but you definitely can appreciate them in a different way with no context whatsoever. They are definitely more ridiculous that way.

It’s worth picking the book up from the shelf at your local bookstore/library just to read those few pages. (Of course, you’d be better served by reading the whole thing). Even people who don’t have a background with Barry will find some laughs there.

So, what did I think about Class Clown?

I’m fairly certain at this point in my life that I’m hardwired to enjoy Davy Barry’s writing, and that I don’t have the neuroplasticity to change that. No matter what apps for seniors I try. So maybe take this with a softball-sized grain of salt.

I really enjoyed this book. A lot—and on several levels.

Part of me would’ve liked a little more depth, a little more digging into details of his life, maybe his approach to writing. But it’d just feel strange knowing that much about Barry—and we all know what happens to a joke when you dissect it, knowing too much about how his sausage is made might not be that entertaining. Really, for Dave Barry—this is about as deep as we want. Every time I started to say “I wish he’d given us more about X,” I stopped myself and realized that no, this was just the right amount.

So no, it’s not as self-revealing as say, Patrick Stewart’s or Matthew Perry’s books—and that’s good.

This is a great way to get to know Barry a little better—given the nature of his work, a lot of us have had a para-social relationship with him before that was a phrase people used. It’s nice for us to deepen that relationship to a degree—before we get back to jokes about exploding cows, questionable song lyrics, or whatever.

I heartily encourage readers of Dave Barry to pick this up—even casual readers will have fun with this, you don’t have to be a die-hard like me. He’s one of a kind, and it’s great to bask in that for a little while.

Disclaimer: I received this eARC from Simon & Schuster via NetGalley in exchange for this post which contains my honest opinion—thanks to both for this.

4 1/2 Stars

This post contains an affiliate link. If you purchase from it, I will get a small commission at no additional cost to you. As always, the opinions expressed are my own.
Irresponsible Reader Pilcrow Icon