Alec Wilkinson is a writer, interviewer, essayist and has been a staff writer
for The New Yorker since 1980; and, he was a police officer for the Wellfleet Police Department. As a writer, Alec Wilkinson has been the “recipient of a Lyndhurst Prize, a Robert F. Kennedy
Book Award and a Guggenheim fellowship.” According to Jonathan A. Smith
(an Amazon reader/reviewer), “Alec Wilkinson was given the dubious nickname of "Crash" while he served on the Wellfleet
Police force. You'll have to read the book to try and figure that one out! What I can tell you is that Midnights is one of
the most amusing true stories I have ever read. It's like a real-life Mayberry.. Barney Fife and all! Originally published
in 1982, Wilkinson describes his personal experiences as a small town cop on Cape Cod. Fresh out of college with a music degree,
he was looking for work in the summer of '75. Wilkinson gave law enforcement a try. So what if he had no police training!
As you will read, it was one bizarre summer and off-season that followed. Memorable too. And Wilkinson candidly recounts his
year with the men in blue, often with sidesplitting humor!”
According to the book description
of The Happiest Man in the World: An Account of the Life of Poppa Neutrino, “Over the last
few years, Wilkinson (Mr. Apology and Other Essays) has been spending quite a bit of time in the company of "Poppa Neutrino,"
a homeless man who's performed as a street musician in New Orleans and New York and traveled across the Atlantic in a
homemade raft. So "lavish and prodigal" is Neutrino's history that his barroom encounters with Kerouac and Ginsberg
at the height of the beat era are dispensed with in a few sentences—after all, by that time, he'd already been crisscrossing
the country for several years himself. In Wilkinson's company, Neutrino spends time in Arizona trying to persuade football
coaches to use a passing play he's developed that could conceivably revolutionize the offensive game, winding up on a
Navajo reservation where he volunteers with a high school team. Then it's off to Mexico, where he puts the finishing touches
on one more raft, which he hopes to sail down the coast to South America and then across the Pacific. For the most part, Wilkinson
simply observes, acting as our conduit to this abrasively compelling personality. But that's like saying Boswell was simply
observing Johnson: the portrait of Neutrino that emerges from these encounters and anecdotes is a truly captivating story.”
Publisher’s Weekly said of
Mr. Apology and Other Essays, “This collection of essays and vignettes draws upon more than 20 years'
worth of writing, primarily for the New Yorker. The magazine's profile writers tend to concentrate on a certain type,
and quintessential Wilkinson involves tagging along as a creative personality operates at the fringes of his or her "art
world," as in "Mr. Apology," in which a the curator of an apology hotline becomes caught up in one caller's
frenetic murder confession. In the book's first section, we encounter the man who does Elmore Leonard's research;
a photographer who specializes in taking pictures of "secret" cars before they are brought to market; and a group
of urban gymnasts who perform in a vacant lot in the South Bronx. Even the most famous subjects, like Grateful Dead guitarist
Bob Weir, maintain some level of obscurity; the profile of rock legend Paul Simon is mostly about the near solitude in which
he toils at his craft. The middle section is more personal, about raising a child who may have Asperger's syndrome and
about Wilkinson's relationship with William Maxwell (more or less duplicating his previous book, My Mentor). The last
five essays, including the title piece, end the volume on a down note, but among them a chilling 45-page portrait of John
Wayne Gacy is among the author's best work. It crystallizes three aspects of Wilkinson's talent displayed throughout
this collection: vivid descriptions of the settings in which he conducts his interviews, keen psychological insight and an
intuitive sense of when to step back and let his subjects speak for themselves.”
One reader of Moonshine:
A Life in Pursuit of White Liquor said, “I grew up not far from Ahoskie, NC, one of the towns author Alec
Wilkinson visits in his book. I was astonished at the accuracy of his portrayal of the people and way of life in rural eastern
North Carolina. Wilkinson makes no judgments and draws no conclusions. He simply writes a wonderfully detailed and honest
portrait of these people and the politics & life of the moonshiners and revenuers of the swamplands. In the past few years
this rural way of life has quickly vanished - pressed from the east by the growth of the tourist industry and overdevelopment
of the Outer Banks, and from the west by the rapid growth of the Research Triangle. Moonshine has been replaced by homegrown
marijuana. Most small farmers have been bought out by corporate farms and the small towns have become bedroom communities
for larger metro areas, with people in Gates and Northampton counties working as far away as Quantico and Williamsburg, VA.
I've loaned out my copy of "Moonshine" so many times it is falling apart, but I've never found another book
that so accurately describes the world I grew up in. For my transplanted Yankee friends here in the Triangle it has been a
great introduction to the rural South. The first Wilkinson book I read was "Midnights", his description of a summer
spent as the night patrolman in a small coastal town in Massachusetts. I was struck by his powers of description, and the
honest effort of researching his subject by spending many long hours on the job. It is also a fine book. For anyone interested
in a slice of life, or just great writing, I'd recommend this book without hesitation.”
Library Journal said of Riverkeeper,
“Wilkinson has established himself as one of our most acute chroniclers of those who have slipped through the cracks
of modern society. In his last three books he has moved from moonshiners and those who pursue them ( Moonshine , LJ 8/85)
to Florida sugar cane laborers ( Big Sugar , LJ 9/1/89) to this work on people who draw their livelihoods from the water.
In three vignettes, he portrays Portuguese-American fishermen off Cape Cod, a "riverkeeper" who patrols the Hudson,
and the Tlingit Indians of Alaska. Clear of ear and sharp of eye, Wilkinson describes their lives with literate simplicity
and, while he abandons the muckraking of Big Sugar , some familiar devil figures (Exxon and the 19th-century white man) do
not emerge unscathed.”
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