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january, 2001 |
the other kim I didn't have many things on my Christmas list this year: a kitchen knife set, my favorite perfume, Dope On A Rope. Yep, Dope. Not soap. There's another Kim (Underwood) here in town who writes. In fact, the Winston-Salem newspaper pays him to do so. He's my favorite Sunday columnist and feature writer, so I was pleased as punch awhile back when I learned that he'd published a book. Kim, whose columns are collected in his book Dope on a Rope , is one of those folks who is joyous to meet. In fact, if you've not done your fair share of clamoring this year, this might be the fellow to clamor toward. Now, I am but loosely acquainted with Kim. When you're a writer, artist or all-purpose eccentric in this town, you run in tight social circles that are bound to intersect at some point. You see your fellow creatives and misunderstoods at West End Cafe, the Rainbow, or at any number of downtown art openings. If you want to avoid someone in this town, move away. You will see them again. Knowing the sound of Kim Underwood's voice makes me feel sorry for his readers who have never heard it. If he hasn't yet begun recording the audiobook, he needs to. The world needs live-action Dope on a Rope . Now. Kim writes a very guy-next-door sort of column. He a well-versed snacker. His dog Buster (aka "his dogness") figures prominently in his life. And I'm pretty sure that he makes up at least one new word each week. Many of his essays read like short homilies on the state of his life. This makes perfect sense, being as he probably picked up a few techniques from his father, the minister. His writing is swell, for sure. But to hear him tell it is even more swell; Kim has what can only be described as a cute (but still very guy-like) voice. No throat-clearing machismo, no unnecessary amplitude. As sounds go, Kim seems full of happy ones. Sometimes his voice cracks, all giddy-like. He belly-laughs when he deems something noteworthy--none of that snively, polite tee-hee business, no siree. So as I read Dope on a Rope , I can't help but hear Kim tell the stories. Though my social knoshings with him have been few, they're enough to ramp up my enjoyment a few points. Since I finished Dope (in a single afternoon, no less) I've been recommending it during many a bookly chat. But then I briefly describe Kim, just in case my Rope-reading buddies run into him around town. Let the clamoring begin.
Kim Underwood's Dope on a Rope |