Twice winner of the Thurber Prize for American Humor (1997, 2009), Frazier presents here a collection of 44 pieces, nearly all of them previously published in the New Yorker. Many are launched from real life, such as from the language-learning-software ad that posits the "hardworking farm boy" with one chance to impress the Italian supermodel; to that end, he learns how to say, in Italian, "East Moline is technically one of the Quad Cities also, but it's usually left out, because that would make five." Or the mock calendar inspired by the admission of New York City schools superintendent Joel Klein that he declared a snow day to accommodate Caroline Kennedy Schlossberg's son, who was struggling to complete a paper due the next day: "Easter, Passover. Schools closed, but available for whatever. Make an offer." Drollery recommended for libraries where the magazine finds traction.

Longtime New Yorker contributor and humorist Frazier (Lamentations of the Father) bounces between the acerbic and the gently humorous in this uneven but fun collection of satiric miscellany. In "Once and Future Prince," Frazier turns an anodyne ABC News item into a playful rumination on the Prince music that could be released post-2025 ("Raspberry Hazmat Beret," perhaps), and "In My Defense" fashions an Associated Press report on the Boy Scouts' new scout leader requirements into a concise and incisive essay about heresy. Frazier is at his best when firing shots at the ultra-wealthy and well-connected, or the ridiculous state of funding and fellowships that support the arts, delivering insightful essays that have plenty of bite. Some pieces, though, have had their comedic edge dulled by time, as with "The Temperature of Hell: A Colloquium," from 2009, in which Frazier imagines Al Gore giving an Inconvenient Truth--esque PowerPoint presentation to the denizens of hell. But even the more meandering entries ("Dracula is Off the Case," for example, which imagines Dracula as a brash New York City detective) are still entertaining. Frazier's fans will be delighted, even if there are a few duds in the mix. Agent: Jin Auh, the Wylie Agency. (Sept.)

A short, bumpy ride through the humorist's dry, deadpan sensibilities. Perhaps it's comparing almonds to walnuts, but Frazier's latest, a hit-and-miss foray into absurdist humor, is not in the class of his much-admired travel books. The author makes a few penetrating satirical stabs at contemporary follies and offers spasms of cleverness, yet too many of the three-page ditties are like underinflated balloons that fizzle out, and the savagely funny pieces only serve to underscore the collection's overall unevenness. However, the idea of climate change in Hades ("The Temperature of Hell: A Colloquium") is certainly delicious, and "In My Defense," a survey of assorted heresies perpetrated by a scoutmaster who has lost his faith, is amusingly clever. There's also a wry Shakespearean parody on the rigors of parking thy horse and some chuckles to be had with the title piece, in which Frazier sells the extraction rights to vast reserves of natural gas found in his head. When he is critiquing artificial intelligence or advocating for mummies in what is otherwise a golden age of zombies, the theater of the absurd is taken to brave new worlds--consider Jane Austen, "who featured zombies in all her exquisitely wrought nineteenth-century comedies of manners." One can't deny that great opening lines like, "I was walking down the street one afternoon, when I suddenly lost funding" belong in a pantheon of sorts, and the idea of Victor Laszlo writing a blog is amusing. Some may cock an eyebrow at the slyly witty "The British Museum of Your Stuff," wherein larceny and scholarship go hand in hand, or enjoy Frazier's exercise in anti-travel planning. But there are also plenty of misses, including "Etymology of Some Common Typos," making this a minor work in the author's oeuvre. For more substantial essay-length pieces, check out Hogs Wild (2017). For Frazier fans. His style of badinage remains an acquired taste that not everyone may wish to acquire. Copyright (c) Kirkus Reviews, used with permission.