Going Bovine Chapter 4 Summary

In Which a Brief Sanctuary Is Found, I Fail to Comprehend Jazz, and I Am Forced to Have a Conversation with My Asshole Father

  • Cameron heads to his refuge, Eubie's Hot Wax—which, contrary to popular belief, is a vinyl record store, not a ladies' depilation specialist. Go figure.
  • He's seeking out another record by his favorite bizarre recording artist, the Great Tremolo, who plays the recorder and ukulele to accompany songs about the pain of life. (Listening to a recorder is the true pain in life. Yikes.)
  • Eubie gives Cam a hard time about not having a girlfriend, or a life for that matter.
  • He tries to educate Cam on Junior Webster, one of the greatest Jazz trumpeters of all time. When he was alive, he played at the Horn and Ivory in New Orleans, and Eubie is kind of obsessed with him.
  • Eubie tries to get Cam to borrow "Cypress Grove Blues" by Junior Webster, his favorite LP of all time, but Cam is panicked by the responsibility. He knows he'll never listen to it, and can't take the pressure of being in possession of something someone cares about so much.
  • Eubie's Hot Wax is right across the street from the university where Cam's dad works as a physicist, trying to debunk the popular new theories like dark energy and the viability of time travel.
  • Cam wants to borrow the car, so he decides to visit his dad in hopes of finagling it's use for a few hours.
  • Cam suspects that his dad is having an affair with his TA, Raina.
  • His dad shows him a bunch of pictures some co-eds took with an unfortunate yard gnome.
  • Cam lobbies for the car, but his dad shoots him down due to ambiguity of need—he'll lend Cam his ID card to buy a copy of Don Quixote at the bookstore, though.
  • As Cam gets up to leave, his leg falls asleep, and when he catches himself, he accidentally breaks the angel snow globe on his dad's desk.
  • Cam buys the Cliff Notes version of Don Quixote, and reads the first few chapters on the bus ride home. Somebody should tell this kid about Shmoop.