A literary yawp; a hundred-thousand words; a compelling, sundry collection of stories and essays-"Oh, Title " is a unique offering. At times a humorous memoir of the author-be-damned, at times a compilation of impressively eclectic fiction, this strange book is almost always one page away from turning into something else. You'll grip it tensely, then you'll put it down to laugh, then you'll tuck it under your arm while you look up a wonderful new word-but always you'll go to it with affection because clearly it was written with love. In reading the collection it quickly becomes apparent, between the lines, (and sometimes right on the lines, ) that Daniel Donatelli loves readers-more than himself, even-and that every word of this book, from the invigorating heights of its descriptive bliss to the comical blue sewers of its sometimes deep scatology, was placed there with a simple hope: that those noble readers might find a thoughtful enjoyment in the sum. The short stories (and to a large extent they are truly short indeed) are a sweet, alchemical mix of philosophy and fiction; the essays are engaging attempts at honesty and insight; the pastel parades are thought-provoking, entertaining little palette cleansers between the beastly rounds; and the final pieces-the two disturbingly funny teleplays and the giant poem of existential and linguistic gymnastics-display a refreshing (or maybe bewildering) creativity. The sum is greater than the parts, and the parts are greater than the sum, and all logic goes right out the window and onto the page. Knock, knock. Who's there? "Oh, Title "