By Donna Price

dprice@americanpress.com

Non-fiction book review: “The Otis Ring,” by Andy Johnson. Published by Deadpan Press, Baton Rouge. 117 Pages.

By Bill Shearman

Special to the American Press

The first chapter of Andy Johnson’s autobiography (2019) is titled “A Bad Place.” It is a metaphor for the first 16 pages and describes what a bad place was; how it got worse and then better.

This book is snarky funny; the supreme oxymoron. Throughout this short book, the reader will laugh at the self-abasement and perhaps identify with Johnson’s ongoing miasma of life its own self.

Johnson is a retired lawyer who hated practicing law (26 years); loves his children and tries to be “of use.” He lived in Lake Charles much of his life, including disastrously, on the water during both Hurricanes Rita and Ike.

There is a biblical parallel early on which shakes Johnson into sobriety; too late to save his marriage but early enough to save his life.

He is at his sister Polly Sunshine’s (her real name) lake house, having, again, extended the party to his own, solitary designs. At the edge of the lake, he sees a burning bush, unconsumed by fire (The Book of Exodus from Mount Horeb, God speaking to Moses).

The burning bush speaks to Johnson, warning him to abstain from his several vices, and then, magically, returns to being a bush. Johnson puts his flip-flops back on and finally, goes to bed, a changed man.

Autobiographies are often the work of aging writers to put off death by boredom. Johnson is 63 but his body and mind are much older. And now, wiser.

The novelist John McPhee said Mark Twain began his autobiography in his 70’s and that Twain’s project was, “Randomly (done) without structure, in total disregard of consistent theme or chronology.”

That is “The Otis Ring.” The title is derived from the The Andy Griffith Show. The town drunk, Otis Campbell, comes into the jail every night, inebriated, takes the cell keys off the ring, lets himself into jail, locks himself up, and sleeps it off.

Otis repeats the key ring sequence every night. That’s what drunks do. Johnson adds a sardonic reminder to those overly repentant: “The drinking days can only be described by the alcoholic’s victims.”

But this book is not a rewriting of the “Days of Wine and Roses.”It is very witty sarcasm directed, with both barrels, at the author, the only funny kind of sarcasm there is.

Think of the late Dr. Hunter Thompson’s acerbic style with no Fear but lots of Loathing. When the late comedian Richard Pryor went to prison, he looked around at his fellow inmates and decided “To make everyone laugh.” Johnson wants us to laugh at him; with him.

The second and final chapters are titled after Johnson’s homes here, one on Drew Park (“The Alhambra,” a Spanish castle) and Greenmullet (on Contraband Bayou, derivation unknown).

Of Greenmullet, he writes, “One should visit a neglected room.” That is a take on Virginia Wolff’s quote that “Everyone should have their own room,” even if it’s behind the Otis Ring.

Finally, the erudition in this book is incredible. I was constantly reminded of the David McCullough quote: “But then it is what you learn by writing that gives the work its pull.” This is good writing.

l

The book, $23, is available by credit card or Paypal at andyjohnson book.com or write Andy at arjv@cox.net.