Excerpt 4 from STATE FAIR by Phil Stong

There was one man in the car, a young man, who wearily waved a small card at the loader. Margy caught a glimpse of the card and recognized a miniature reproduction of a logotype she saw every day, the masthead of the Des Moines Evening Tribune. With awe she realized that she was about to occupy a car with the Press.

The Press was a young man of twenty-seven or eight, with sleepy eyes, a  pleasant, not unattractive face, and a faint smile. His suit, of light gray tweed, set off a well-browned face and picked up hair of platinum blond for which any chorus-girl would have given her soul a dozen times over. He had evidently been around the world hundreds of times, had tired of wine, women, and song, and had taken up roller-coastering as an End in Life.

Margy took a seat demurely in the place to which the attendance beckoned her, at the young man's side. The bar was dropped over their laps and the car started, slowly.

Before they had gone twenty feet, Margy realized that she was not riding on the roller-coaster of the previous year. The first climb was tremendous, was mountainous. She felt a faint alarm. The young man lay back, relaxed, inspecting the Fair Grounds from the increasingly advantageous heights. He took out a cigarette, looked at it critically, and put it back in his pocket. Margy smiled and nodded at the cigarette. He thanked her with a glance, but shook his head.

The next moment they fell ninety feet.


State Fair, by Phil Stong

Come see us at the Iowa State Fair!

Come visit the University of Iowa Press booth this afternoon at 3:00 - 9:00, we'll be with all of the other University of Iowa folks. Hope to see you there!

Excerpt 3 from STATE FAIR by Phil Stong

Only Abel felt the dews which came toward morning and saw the trees faintly begin to silhouette themselves against a dawning gray light. A little later he could see the sunrise from the side door of the truck, and then he began to hear a rising chorus of farm animals from the farms which drifted by the car. Only Abel saw the freshly gilded dome of the Capitol suddenly shine out over Des Moines, and the newly whitewashed Fair Buildings which promised them carnival from the near side of the town. At the gates he halted and showed a sleepy watchman his entry slip for Blue Boy. Mrs. Frake started up.

"Wake up, children," she cried, "wake up! We're here! We're at the Fair!"


State Fair, by Phil Stong

Come see the University of Iowa Press at the State Fair this year on opening day, tomorrow, from 3:00pm - 9:00pm!

Excerpt 2 from STATE FAIR by Phil Stong

Along the wall of Melissa Frake's kitchen at home was a long row of yellow and red ribbons which she had won for angel's food, devil's food and layer cake; cherry preserves made by the old Stidger recipe which had come down in the family for generations uncounted; for chicken dressing; for raised bread; for doughnuts. There were two blue ribbons--one for candied cherries and one for a mincemeat to which Mrs. Frake had surreptitiously added some sherry wine the doctor had once prescribed as a tonic for Margy.

The little bit that was left over, it seemed a shame to waste. The judges awarded Mrs. Frake's mincemeat a blue ribbon with a promptness and unanimity which had shocked her. Although she felt a very small twinge of conscience when she saw this blue ribbon, she felt a slight moral indignation against judges whose souls would not warn them of irreligious matters in mincemeat.


State Fair, by Phil Stong

Come see the University of Iowa Press at the State Fair this year on opening day, August 8, from 3:00pm - 9:00pm!