Autobiography

Dead End Gene Pool: A Memoir by Wendy Burden

By Wendy Burden

In the culture of Sean Wilsey's Oh the honour of It All and Augusten Burrough's Running With Scissors, the great-great-great-great granddaughter of Cornelius Vanderbilt supplies readers a grand travel of the realm of wealth and WASPish peculiarity, in her irreverent and darkly funny memoir.

For generations the Burdens have been one of many wealthiest households in long island, because of the inherited fortune of Cornelius "The Commodore" Vanderbilt. by way of 1955, the yr of Wendy's beginning, the Burden's had turn into a extended family of overfunded, quirky and brainy, steadfastly chauvinistic, and eventually doomed bluebloods at the verge of economic and ethical decline-and have been infrequently visible now not preserving a drink. In Dead finish Gene Pool, Wendy invitations readers to fulfill her tragically unsuitable kin, together with an uncle with a passion for Hitler, a grandfather who believes you could by no means have adequate family employees, and a remarkably flatulent grandmother.

on the middle of the tale is Wendy's glamorous and aloof mom who, after her husband's suicide, travels the area looking for the appropriate sea and ski tan, leaving her 3 young children within the care of a sequence- smoking Scottish nanny, 5th street grandparents, and an different solid of long-suffering loved ones servants (who Wendy and her brothers like to terrorize). Rife with humor, heartbreak, kin intrigue, and booze, Dead finish Gene Pool bargains a glimpse into the interesting global of previous funds and provides fact to an outdated maxim: the wealthy are assorted.

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I wrapped both arms around Seamus, and he leaned into me, but he continued to look at Chris. ” “I don’t think you did. He’ll be fine,” I said, rubbing Seamus’s now exposed belly as he flopped onto his back and stretched out across the side of the bed Chris had been sleeping on. ” When Chris returned to the bedside, Seamus did not acknowledge him and made no effort to relinquish any space. indd 23 7/13/12 10:47 AM 24 T eres a J . ” Chris said. ” “Sorry. But that is kinda funny. ” They had not made good first impressions on each other.

I’d like to go home. Home is good. Also, feed me. Oh my God, feed me!! So hungry! Come on, Mom, let’s go home now! Here’s our car! We’re going home! I love home. Food is at home! AAAAAARRROOOOOOOOO!!! I drove home, steering with one hand and rifling through my purse for tissue with the other. Tears flowed down my face, and I wiped them away again and again before giving up. I sniffed and tried to inhale deeply at the stoplight. I turned to Seamus in his crate in my backseat and petted him through the bars until the driver behind me honked.

I was working on a valid excuse to not meet his parents while also trying not to be flattered by his description. “And I don’t want to hide you,” he said. Shit. For the week before the brunch, I obsessed over what to wear and what to say without ever deciding on either. On the morning of the brunch I dressed in black pants, black patent-­leather high heels and a black cotton sweater. Then I tore it all off my body. It’s not a funeral. Try being less literal about your feelings. I changed from the black pants to a black skirt with a ruffled hem.

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