Pure Drivel, by Steve Martin

Reviewed by: The Ramblin’ Guy

Drivel. drivel. drivel. d-r-i-v-e-l. I am about to write drivel about Drivel. “Pure Drivel.” Now firstly let me clarify what drivel exactly is or isn’t. Drivel is not the stain on Monica’s dress. Got that? Okay good – I am sick of hearing about it (although I do wonder if the fact that she kept the dress from such an incident implies that she actually may never have brushed her teeth again?). Drivel is not what a basketball player with a lisp does. Nor is drivel one of those cute, pseudo-French terms used to describe a tiny driveway-like cul-de-sac (which literally means “end of sack” or “testicles”).

Drivel is usually a term used to describe what I write-sort of a random, mindless babble of incoherent thought. Usually this implies that you might not want to read it. Usually this implies that I suck (from the Latin, “suckerooni”) However, when I approached Steve Martin’s recent “Pure Drivel”, I was quite stunned to find that the title was meant in irony. Irony is one of those literary devices used to suggest that something is no longer wrinkly. Steve-and I can call him Steve because, well, it’s his first name and it would be so stupid to call him Bob or Claire-sets forth to bring to the writing of drivel an intensely wise and tongue-in-cheek (again-from the French, meaning “cul-de-sac”) series of short essays that cover topics from yelling “Savages!” in a Native American owned casino to kittens living on Mars to the Times New Roman font warning us of an impending shortage of periods.

That piece alone, free in itself from the use of periods, lends a purely creative style of writing not found in lesser tomes of drivel (and by golly someday I mean to set about and compile my own tome of drivel) or even many great works of modern literature (and by golly I mean to set about to create a great work of modern litera-uh, no, sorry, I actually don’t). The writing’s overall (and yes, that was a period at the end of the last sentence-I am not ironic, and drivel merely for the sake of incoherence) appeal should hearken back to the days of the “Wild and Crazy Guy”, but many avid followers of Steve’s (Bob’s, Claire’s) career will note the ebbs and flows of later incarnations such as “Picasso at the Lapin Agile” (a story where Picasso goes to the Lapin Agile).

This book had such a profound effect on me, I think, being such an amateur driveler, that I would write a letter to Steve (Bob, Claire) that would ask for guidance and it would go something like this:

Of course now I am assuming that such a thing exists as “to drivel” – and that is the processes of “verbing” a noun and that probably is grammatically incorrect. However I think it is okay, in this day and age to take a bit of creative license to create an art form out of the Big Steve’s (Big Bob’s, Big Claire’s) drivel and call it Driveling-with a capital “D.”

Now there you have it. A nifty review of my Good Buddy Steve’s (Good Buddy Bob’s, Good Buddy Claire’s) book and the definition of Drivel/Driveling. You should never again confuse it with other words.. like.. like.. um – “Driving”! Yeah, don’t confuse it with Driving-otherwise the movie would become “Driveling Miss Daisy”-and that sounds like a porn film. Uh oh, I appear to have reached a “cul de sac”.

Hardcover – 128 pages 1 edition (September 16, 1998) Hyperion Press; ISBN: 0786864672; Dimensions (in inches): 0.61 x 8.64 x 5.85