Paul Rudnick’s “Confessions of a Pilgrim Shopaholic”

From The New Yorker's archive: a Shouts & Murmurs about a guilt-ridden settler and her profligate (at least by Puritan standards) spending habits.  ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌   View in browser | Update your preferences     Shouts & Murmurs Confessions of a Pilgrim Shopaholic "My mind reeled—I wanted everything! The box of damp matches; the single moth-eaten stocking, removed from a corpse; the tiny empty vial that had once held extract of vanilla!" By Paul Rudnick The humorist and playwright Paul Rudnick gleefully skewers pop culture and traditional depictions of historical events. Since 1998, Rudnick has contributed more than eighty pieces to The New Yorker, lampooning everything from celebrity narcissism to religious bigotry. He is also the author of more than fifteen plays and books, as well as the screenplays for "In & Out" and "Jeffrey." As the leaves change and the holiday-shopping season approaches, I'm reminded of Rudnick's "Confessions of a Pilgrim Shopaholic," a favorite Shouts & Murmurs about a guilt-ridden settler and her profligate (at least by Puritan standards) spending habits. "We arrived in the New World in 1626 and took up residence in a small cabin in the Plymouth Colony," Rudnick writes, in the voice of his protagonist. "Toward the end of our first January, I travelled to Boston to purchase a thimbleful of salt. And now, five years later, I have travelled to Boston for a second thimbleful. I am out of control." The spendthrift Pilgrim spirals as she details her covetousness, from wooden buttons to scented tallow and beeswax. What is a proper colonist to do? One of Rudnick's great skills is using conventional comic tropes to send up contemporary values, injecting inventive twists into his whimsy-filled satire. As the piece progresses, we find that our protagonist is not the only resident of the village with such extravagant appetites. Heed my advice: You may want to finish any beverages prior to reading a Rudnick piece; it will result in fewer spit takes.   —Erin Overbey, archive editor More from the Archive     Shouts & Murmurs Me, Reading From 2012: No! How can this be?! I've read only fifty-two per cent of this damn book? By Patricia Marx     Shouts & Murmurs Guy Walks Into a Bar From 2013: And all of a sudden there's this big cloud of smoke—and a beat-up Plymouth Voyager appears! By Simon Rich You're receiving this e-mail because you signed up for the New Yorker Classics newsletter. Was this e-mail forwarded to you? Sign up.   Unsubscribe | Manage your e-mail preferences | Send newsletter feedback | View our privacy policy    The New Yorker may earn a portion of sales from products and services that are purchased through links in our newsletters as part of our affiliate partnerships with retailers.    Copyright © Condé Nast 2021. One World Trade Center, New York, NY 10007. All rights reserved.