To make matters far worse, his father (considered the sanest member of his immediate family) suffers from not one but two heart attacks, and his neatnik, agoraphobic mother is jealous of the live-in nurse Plato has hired to care for them. Which quandary to tackle first? Harried readers of all persuasions surely will find John Blumenthal's protagonist both amusing and highly-identifiable.

Blumenthal is a master of eccentric detailing. The title itself is borrowed from Plato's obsession with the oft-ignored thirteenth US President. Plato's only friend, a dandruff-laden historical document dealer, finds a remarkably enigmatic letter addressed to Millard Fillmore (signed merely "L.M."), piquing Plato's interest even further. In addition, Plato's psychiatrist, Dr. Wang, has persuaded him to write a definitive memoir of the neglected leader. While sitting in the park, penning the first volume of a planned ten-volume set, a Frisbee conks his cranium and leads normally tongue-tied Plato into an animated conversation with his equally-zany future ladylove, Emily. Not that Plato believes in love, mind you. He's the first to proclaim, "Call me a curmudgeon, but if you ask my opinion, the whole concept of romantic love is unmitigated hogwash."

The quality of the author's prose alone makes this quirky tale a page-turner. Readers will be reminded of words that they learned while stuck in high school English classrooms but had entirely forgotten. Anyone with literary ambitions will find Blumenthal's vocabulary motivational. Who can resist a story which entrances with such distinctive diction as "modicum," "flimflam," "mawkish," and "insidious"—and all within the first page? That said, the novel is erudite without lapsing into condescension, and the reader never need feel that the aid of a thick Webster's is required to navigate the lively plot.

I don't happen to have a PhD in psychiatry, but you want my (free) advice? If you're having the kind of day where your bank account balance is shivering, the kids are crying, and the bathroom toilet just overflowed (or even if you aren't), you really need to buy this book. Not only is it upbeat, but you'll find yourself laughing out loud again and again. Only—don't make the mistake of reading it in a quiet public place, as I did, unless you are prepared for perplexed stares and intense inquiries. Everyone will want to know what the Fussell's all about.

- Melanie Faith