Role Models

by John Waters

Here, from the incomparable John Waters, is a paean to the power of subversive inspiration that will delight, amuse, enrich--and happily horrify readers everywhere.

Role Models is, in fact, a self-portrait told through intimate profiles of favorite personalities--some famous, some unknown, some criminal, some surprisingly middle-of-the-road. From Esther Martin, owner of the scariest bar in Baltimore, to the playwright Tennessee Williams; from the atheist leader Madalyn Murray O'Hair to the insane martyr Saint Catherine of Siena; from the English novelist Denton Welch to the timelessly appealing singer Johnny Mathis--these are the extreme figures who helped the author form his own brand of neurotic happiness.

Role Models is a personal invitation into one of the most unique, perverse, and hilarious artistic minds of our time.

Genres: Nonfiction, Memoir, Essays, Biography, Humor, Film, Audiobook

304 pages, Hardcover

First published May 25, 2010

About the author

John Samuel Waters, Jr. is an American filmmaker, actor, writer, personality, visual artist and art collector, who rose to fame in the early 1970s for his transgressive cult films: Pink Flamingos and Hairspray. He is recognizable by his pencil-thin moustache.

Reviews

[Violeta · Rating 4 out of 5]

ATTENTION!! This is John Waters’s world. Enter at your own risk!!

Some people don’t fit into society’s molds. So, if they are daring and creative enough, they make their own.
I guess we all have a weird side. Some suppress their weirdness, some are spent by it and some are smart (and lucky) enough to venture in and out of it, never completely losing their anchor into reality. John Waters is one of the latter and, for all his relentless mockery of middle-class mores, I suspect that his own anchor is to be found in his middle-class upbringing, as is described in this peculiar collection of autobiographical essays.

At least that’s what I perceived from reading his imaginative take on an array of wildly mismatched characters ranging from Johnny Mathis to Tennessee Williams to Leslie Van Houten (one of the Manson killer kids) to Bobby Garcia (a gay pornographer obsessed by male Marines) to Rei Kawakubo (the idiosyncratic fashion designer). They all serve as his role models and through his study of the influence they had on him he paints a pretty honest and vivid portrait of himself.
I don’t know if he would be particularly surprised by this conclusion but he comes across as a noble and generous enough spirit who wouldn’t hold against me the arbitrariness of the thought. Having seen and fairly enjoyed a few of his outrageous movies (admittedly not the hard-core stuff), this was the biggest surprise these confessions held.

Equally surprising was the extent of his love for books. He proudly confesses that to the day of the writing of the most delightful chapter, aptly called “Bookworm”, in 2010, he had ‘8,425 books, all cataloged but no longer in complete order’ on his shelves. Like any decent bibliophile he can’t help drawing up a list of...
“John Waters’s Five Books You Should Read to Live a Happy Life If Something is Basically the Matter with You.”
Curious? Here it is:

Denton Welch’s In Youth Is Pleasure
Lionel Shriver’s We Need to Talk About Kevin
Christina Stead’s The Man Who Loved Children
Jane Bowles’s Two Serious Ladies (also Tennesse William’s favorite)
Any novel by Ivy Compton-Burnett.
For my part, I’m expecting The Present and the Past to arrive any day now.

Many thanks to Antigone, whose ingenious review put this one on my radar.
https://www.goodreads.com/review/show...

[Kimley · Rating 4 out of 5]

Yep, got my very own personalized copy!



John Waters is infectious. And I mean that in the best possible way. His passion and enthusiasm for his "role models" is so genuine and palpable that it's impossible to not want to sit down with him immediately and chat on and on in a relentless, otaku way about all these wonderful people and obsessions - even the ones that are so completely disgusting and horrifying! But that's Waters' charm.

There's nothing I love more than a bona fide celebrity who is in reality nothing more than an out-and-out geeky fanboy/fangirl who got lucky. Waters is fully aware of just how lucky he is and his passions run deep. He admires his role models and is intimidated by them. He is thrilled by their presence and their work and seeks to ferret out the tasty morsels of their lives and tries to figure out just what it is that makes that person so significant. And like a true fan, he discovers the nuances that really mean something. Like I noticed that Waters used a ball point pen with black ink to sign my book and he pressed down so hard that there's an imprint on the page below. I know this is a man with some intensity! Or at least that's the scenario going through my own fangirl mind. But that's the thing with Waters; it's all very personal. He is talking about his role models here but ultimately, we learn far more about Waters himself.

The diversity of his interests should be no surprise to the Waters fan base. This book covers topics as varied as Johnny Mathis and Little Richard to Manson follower Leslie Van Houten to fashion designer Rei Kawakubo as well as his obsessions with art, books and "outsider porn".

The chapter on books should probably be required reading for all Goodreaders. A teaser, if you will...

"Being rich is not about how much money you have or how many homes you own; it's the freedom to buy any book you want without looking at the price and wondering if you can afford it."

"And for god's sake, don't let me ever hear you say, "I can't read fiction. I only have time for the truth." Fiction is the truth, fool!"

Amen to that!

[Jessica · Rating 4 out of 5]

A story, rather than a review.

Or both, I think.

Two lovely British friends came to visit. We took the bus to New York, and then Boston.

In Boston, we visited Harvard, and Harvard Book Store. I saw this book, and picked it up from the Biography/Celebrity section.

The next day, I flew back to Baltimore.

As I was waiting in line at the airport, I swore I saw someone that looked like John Waters. "No, that cannot be him," I thought, as nothing as ever really happens to me, ever.

After the two hour plane ride, I went to baggage claim. Sure enough, standing next to me... it was him. John Waters. For sure.

Furthermore, I was very excited as I had just bought his book the day before!

Then - immediately I was dismayed. My book was packed in my luggage... not in my carry-on. Surely, I couldn't get my luggage and chase this poor man down to sign my book?

I said to myself, "If my luggage comes out before his, I will grab it, race for the book, and then run over to him."

What were the chances that:
1. I'd buy the John Waters book
2. The next day he'd be on my plane
3. My luggage would come out before his so he could sign my book?

Not bloody likely.

And sure enough... my suitcase was the first off the plane.

I grabbed it, and raced to an area that was clear of people. I started throwing everything on the floor - everything... tampons, dirty underwear, bras, clothes, hair curlers... you name it onto the floor of the airport baggage claim.

He started to pass by me... and in a little-mouse voice, I said, "Mr Waters?"

"Hi," he said, as he walked by me. I was sprawled on the floor. Hair dirty, clothes wrinkled, surrounded in my own mess.

Instantly, I saw the book amongst a wrinkled pair of jeans, "Mr. Waters, will you sign my book, please?"

He smiled. He stopped. He looked pleased, flattered.

He came over to me.

"Would you like me to dedicate it to you?"

"Yes!" I breathed. I groped for a pen. Things were everywhere.

He smiled and said, "I have one."

"What is your name?" he asked.

"Jessica," was all I could say.

He signed it - To Jessica and then his name.

I think I thanked him and then he walked off. I threw everything back in my case haphazardly and went out to meet my friends.

The book was great. More so because of the snipets of the city I love - the city that my grandparents and their grandparents came from - or from the people that came off the boat to this wonderful place. I can still drive by the house my grandfather lived in, my grandmother lived in. The family still owns some of the properties we've always owned. Just Baltimore row houses, simple, but loved.

And he isn't shocking - to me. He is just him. And he has good taste.

[Lori · Rating 4 out of 5]

John Waters, for those not familiar (possibly by design), is a twisted indie filmmaker from Baltimore whose infamous work includes Pink Flamingos, Female Trouble, Multiple Maniacs and Peckers, made with many of the same actors. Those are among his most out-there films. I've seen three of four I listed and they're definitely different, innovative and memorable. Divine was divine. Edith the Egg Lady still haunts my dreams. That scene with Surfin' Bird: [redacted].

He went on to make mainstream films Polyester (the only movie made in Smell-O-Vision, which really was!, and how I wish I'd seen it weekly just to collect the cards), Serial Mom and Hairspray.

He's the son of loving parents who, by virtue of being a happy and strange human, had a happy and strange childhood in Baltimore -- where he still lives and has made all his films. He touches upon it often in the book. He's a gay icon, a natural comedian, loveable and apt -- as he does in this book sometimes but not nearly as much as in his films -- to go a bit far for most people. I can never unsee bits of Pink Flamingos: we were young, we were in New York, it was at the midnight movies so it was Cool, we were grossed out and we had fun. More than once. And yes, Divine really did do that at the end. William Burroughs dubbed him "The Pope of Trash" and John Waters loves it. He does live shows, had an episode of The Simpsons written around him, is a serious art collector, and volunteers with prisoners.

What I didn't know about John Waters is he writes books. This is one of several, and I'm grateful to Violeta for her review of this which put it on my radar. Anything offensive, uninteresting or not fun or funny is of course all mine and in fact incompatible with the Violeta I know of on Goodreads.

He's very funny and glib and the book often reads like stand-up. Chapters include ones on idols Johnny Mathis and Tennessee Williams; fashion designer Rei Kawakubo (not a designer I paid much attention to but my favorite chapter); his art collection; five favorite novels (he owns over eight thousand books); and what he'd do if he was a cult leader as opposed to a cult filmmaker.

And there's the chapter on gay fetish porn filmmakers including the one who paid Marines to [redacted] and sometimes [redacted], causing a scandal at Camp Pendleton, and another who specialized in [redacted]. There were more; I bailed on that chapter. As John Waters might say, it could be your favorite!

Appetizers:

Fashion is very important to me. My “look” for the last twenty years or so has been “disaster at the dry cleaners.” I shop in reverse. When I can afford to buy a new outfit, something has to be wrong with it. Purposely wrong. Comme des Garçons (like some boys) is my favorite line of clothing, designed by the genius fashion dictator Rei Kawakubo. She specializes in clothes that are torn, crooked, permanently wrinkled, ill-fitting, and expensive. What used to be called “seconds” (clothes that were on sale in bargain basements of department stores because of accidental irregularities) is now called “couture.”

Ms. Kawakubo’s reviews have mostly been brilliant but the bad ones make me prouder to wear her clothes: “unwearable,” “post-atomic,” “that shrunken, hopeless look,” “as threadbare and disheveled as Salvation Army rejects,” and, best of all, “fashion is having a nervous breakdown.” “I’m always more or less annoying,” Kawakubo admitted to Judith Thurman in a revealing 2005 New Yorker profile. Wearing what Ms. Thurman describes as “Rei’s favorite accessory—a dour expression."

I’m a model in Paris. Don Knotts meets Mahogany.

I remember thinking it was strange that all the straight guys in the audience would cheer gay Peaches onstage with the Upsetters, but then beat him up after the show. Already I was learning how confusing show business could be.

Like all avid readers, I sob about the death of my favorite bookshops in each city I visit, but I’m secretly thrilled at how easy and cheap it is to order from Amazon.com.

Want to go further in your advanced search for snobbish, elitist, literary wit? Of course you do, but I should warn you, you’ll have to work for it. Try reading any novel by Ivy Compton-Burnett. She was English, looked exactly like the illustration on the Old Maid card, never had sex even once, and wrote twenty dark, hilarious, evil little novels...

...as soon as you realize you aren’t concentrating, not paying enough attention, BANG! A great line will hit you right between the eyes and give you the intellectual shivers..That Ivy! She was a real laff-riot. Her last spoken words before death? “Leave me alone.” I have to. I have all twenty of her novels and I’ve read nineteen. If I read the one that is left there will be no more Ivy Compton-Burnett for me and I will probably have to die myself.

The whole event was like a transplanted New Yorker cartoon.

Yves Klein may have used the naked bodies of women as paintbrushes, but here Cy [Twombly] appears to have imagined painting with the hacked-off limb of an intruder who interrupted his painting by asking a stupid question about “drips” or how long it actually took to create these works.

Just start hollering out nonsense words and I guarantee your mood will improve. Cinematic speaking in tongues is even more satisfying. Try “Bibbidi-Bobbidi-Boo” in Pig Latin.

[Antigone · Rating 4 out of 5]

Fashion is very important to me. My "look" for the last twenty years or so has been "disaster at the dry cleaners." I shop in reverse. When I can afford to buy a new outfit, something has to be wrong with it. Purposefully wrong.

There are days I sense I've become entirely too confident in my understanding of how the world works. Too confirmed of my opinion. Too assured of my grasp of the truth. These are the days I set out in search of a book written by what used to be referred to as "a real character." This will be an author who has made choices differing wildly from my own, who has learned lessons I have yet to master, and who has come to conclusions that challenge my Miss-Muffet-On-A-Tuffet certitude of all things right. John Waters fills the bill admirably, presenting a deliciously eccentric sensibility seasoned with intelligence and wit.

Role Models is a collection of ten essays - profiles, if you will, which purport to be of personalities who have influenced Mr. Waters. More though, as we read along, do we discover they are in actuality self-portraits refracting through the lens of outward observation. It's a kinky little feat he's accomplished here; a sort of slide-show approach to memoir that shifts, by turns, through both high and low cultural icons. Johnny Mathis, Little Richard, Tennessee Williams, Leslie Van Houten (of Charles Manson fame), and a host of Baltimore's local "heroes" are among the apertures he uses to frame his expression of self. It is odd. Unique. Off the beaten path. And it does, at certain points, challenge a host of preconceptions.

A piquant chaser for the curds-and-whey.

[Marvin · Rating 4 out of 5]

From John Water's Role Models:

You should never read for "enjoyment". Read to make yourself smarter. Or less judgmental. More apt to understand your friends' insane behavior, or better yet, your own. Pick "hard books". Ones you have to concentrate on while reading. And for God's sake, don't ever let me hear you say, "I can't read fiction. I only have time for the truth." Fiction is the truth, fool! Ever hear of "literature"? That means fiction too, stupid.

John Waters isn't exactly a role model for me. In fact, there is probably no one who is more unlike me or who grew up in such a opposite environment. But I do admire him greatly. Waters is the Duchamp of cinema. He took ordinary kinks and taboos and made them art. Divine would have been just another 300 pound transvestite who ate dog poop but, with Water's help, he became a socio-political statement. John Waters states he has experienced every perversion except two. You have to read the book to find out which two. However, it is not this that makes him an artist but the ways he expresses himself in film and now in his writings.

In this book, the author writes about his roles models. Some are quite mainstream like Johnny Mathis and Little Richard. Others are beyond my understanding, like Bobby Garcia, perpetrator of gay Marines porn. Some of his role models even mystify the more mature Waters as he questions his original fascination with people like the Manson family or a lesbian junkie stripper named Zorro who makes Joan Crawford seem like mother of the year. Yet Waters is not really writing about his role models but about himself; how his identity was formed and evolved by the people who he was infatuated with. Waters is not worried about what you think about him or if you are repulsed by his likes and dislikes. But he does want you to see and recognize the reality that surrounds us whether we like it or not. That is also what I admire about Waters; His take-it-or-leave-it attitude. You may be disgusted with films like Pink Flamingos but it says to you, "Here I am, deal with it". Just like this book does.

[Scot · Rating 4 out of 5]

Okay, John Waters is not for everyone—never was, never will be, and certainly never aspired to be. However, when they remade Hairspray the film as a musical movie based on an incredibly successful Broadway play, and John Travolta won the stiff competition for the part first played by Divine (his beady eyes as Edna Turnblatt still haunt me), it was clear how successful and widespread John Waters’ cinematic subversion coming out of Maryland in the 1970s truly was—from an upstart challenge to the puritanical Censor Board of the Old Line State, in the 21st century, thanks to the Internet and Hollywood marketing, he now has significant global influence and broad international appeal.

I am one of many whom the underground sensation filmmaker spoke to in such a profound way when I encountered his films in my youth, and then moving to Maryland for my graduate work in the late 70s only brought me to a higher level of interaction with appreciative fellow travelers. Visiting Divine’s grave and Edith Massey’s shop in Baltimore were significant events for me, and when I eventually got to meet John Waters in person, I expressed my adulation in a way I felt he would appreciate—I actually gave a gift of love, my prized souvenir ceramic toilet ashtray from Nashville (when you lift the lid, it had a cameo of Loretta Lynn on the inside—I am recalling its distinctive charm now, sigh). He seemed sincerely grateful for the gesture. I am clearly such a big fan, because I have always been a misfit, even within whatever minority I might be included, and John Waters has spent his life not only being a misfit among misfits, but doing so in a manner that is both accepting and kind to all deviants, subversive and witty, progressive and playful, self-deprecating and outrageous. In short, on some meaningful levels, he has been my role model.

This collection of ten essays reveals an unapologetic elder statesman in the ongoing revolution against good taste and conformity, and though the book is a celebratory review of his eclectic list of personal role models, on another level it is Waters offering himself as a role model for mature adults like me, his fan base, as he demonstrates how to negotiate continued fascination with the fringe, the objectionable, the gauche, and the deviant while making subtle but positive contributions for human rights, social justice, and the need for greater emphasis on reading and basic education.

Whom does he interview or pay homage to in this book? Johnny Mathis; Tennessee
Williams; former Manson groupie (now reformed: let’s be clear) Leslie Van Houten; renegade fashion designer Rei Kawakubo; colorful Baltimore working class deviants of the 1950s and 60s; obscure yet idiosyncratically warped visionary authors such as Denton Welch, Lionel Shriver, Jane Bowles, and the indefatigable Ivy Compton-Burnett; Little Richard; two little known porn auteurs (Bobby Garcia and David Hurles) who carved out niches that might seem dark, vile, dangerous ratholes to some but resonated as refuges of great personal delight and exhilaration for others; cutting edge challengers of imposed definitions of aesthetic in modern art, including Cy Twombley, collaborators Peter Fischli and David Weiss, and Richard Tuttle. His last chapter is perhaps the scariest, as he mischievously envisions himself as a revered cult leader and reflects upon strategies for advancing his cause and policies for his minions to follow. His not always repressed anger for the indiscretions and historical wrongs done by the Catholic Church start to take over the rant here, and make me a bit uneasy—but in his defense, if you’re going to be a cult leader, then a crescendo as you work yourself (and your followers) up into a frenzy is a successful finale’s most basic requirement (with perhaps some creepy group ritualistic shared activity a close second). And starting a cult isn’t as easy as it used to be—there are a lot of conspiracy theorists and charlatan demagogues out there upping the competition. Indeed, the phrase “drinking the kool-aid” has been overused so much in recent political discourse it now sounds as tired as the other once more colorful and troubling reference of anguish, throwing someone “under the bus.” As the clamor of cult leaders intensifies, Waters’ track record and perspective still make him an attractive choice to me.

[Juliandra · Rating 5 out of 5]

Pg 164 sums it up for Goodreads bookworms... "You should never just read for "enjoyment." Read to make yourself smarter! Less judgemental. More apt to understand your friends' insane behaviour, or better yet, your own. Pick "hard books." Ones you have to concentrate on while reading."
Here's where John reached out from the linen-wannabe pages and made me gasp in awe. From this, it is clear that we have more than dirty thoughts in common. Three years of running a book club forced me to bite my tongue as I thought these very thoughts... "And for God's sake, don't let me ever hear you say, "I can't read fiction. I only have time for the truth." Fiction is the truth, fool! Ever hear of "literature"? That means fiction, too, stupid."

Other quotes that resonated with me:
Pg. 275: "A HOBBY?! DO I LOOK LIKE A FUCKING DABBLER?!"
Pg. 280: "Run from the overly clean before they infect you!"

There are special highlighted moments of this novel that I laughed on a city bus like a lunatic wearing an itchy sweater. (Mostly points within the last half of the book.)
Pg. 233:
Pg. 274:
Pg. 280:
Pg. 284:

I am grateful for the more serious teachings within the chapters on his authors, books and art/ists type role models - Bookworm & Roommates. What a huge world of rare filth talent that John unselfishly exposes to the reader! These filthy lessons definitely stirred into my type four creativity interests and ignited obvious wing five curiosity!

I can't tell if I'm envious or happy that John was able to use his hometown to inspire him and his work. Perhaps both?
Baltimore Heroes chapter was beautiful in that he has always and continues to gravitate to such dirty-neck stompin' grounds. He's made peace at home. Poked the spot that was bruised the most and learned to heal in pleasure.
I wish I could be as brave, or strong, or sadistic. I have simply learned to avoid my hometown like the plague. Cowardice.

John Waters took me on a soiled carpet ride in what ended up being a refreshing read that wasn't just fun to read, but one that helped me accept and understand my own self.

Signing off for now,
Queen Summerfall Winterspring

[Strega Di Gatti · Rating 5 out of 5]

Hi stupid, hi ugly! If you like John Waters, you will love this book. In it you'll meet the most interesting people you could ever get lucky enough to sit next to in a dimly lit Baltimore dive bar.

If you don't like John Waters, eat dog turds.

[Tosh · Rating 4 out of 5]

There is something so comfortable about John Waters' essays. He is an extremely reasonable man in an unreasonable world. The beauty of this book is Waters' riffing on old friends, various famous people who inspired him, and the best part is a tour of his town's (Baltimore) most sleezy bars, which he's an natural consumer of.

Also his appreciation for various Gay Porn directors is both hysterical and moving at the same time. John Waters is one of those once-in-a-lifetime type of character who can both do art (film, visuals, writing, performer) and be sort of the great Uncle in your life. His genius like appreciation for the arts and literature is fantastic as well. Waters is a hardcore aesthetic and is extremely dandy-like with his appreciation for the world and how he transforms that 'place' into his own liking. Amazing!

What I have is a galley, and the book is coming out in June. For sure purchase it!

[Dan · Rating 5 out of 5]

i've been arguing for years to anyone who will listen that john waters is one of the great essayists of our time. why he doesn't enjoy the epic "bestseller" status of, say, david sedaris is completely beyond me.

this is a book devoted to the people who've inspired him throughout his life, and it includes some of his very best stories. the absolute tour-de-force is the narrative of his friendship with leslie van houten. van houten was one of the manson girls in the late 60's, and waters has been visiting her in prison for decades. she openly admits to her guilt, rejects all of manson's ideologies and hasn't replaced them with any christian/new age declarations of salvation. waters digs much deeper than you'd expect into their friendship, his own fascination with manson, the prison system, social justice and redemption. what emerges is a heart-felt, no-bullshit, extraordinarily well-argued plea for forgiveness. her chapter is a true-blue work of art, one worthy of a space next to in cold blood on your bookshelf.

the great thing about waters' writing is that he's crass and irreverent and accessible, but also capable of surprising sophistication. when approaching the wicked witch of the west, he sounds like the auteur of pink flamingoes. when writing about van houten, he sounds like he works for the new yorker. in the chapter about "outsider porn," which explores the often dangerous world of paying straight marines to perform in front of a super 8 camera (among other things), he sounds like a mixture of both. waters loves johnny mathis records, leather bars, denton welch memoirs and cy twombly sculptures - and he feels perfectly comfortable inhabiting the cultures of each. in fact, it's often surprising to see how high-brow waters can be at times. there are no buttholes or fart jokes to justify his love of ivy compton-burnett or jane bowles. for lovers of high and low culture like myself, i came out of this book with plenty of things to research.

oh, and i also listened to the audiobook version, which is read by waters himself. hearing his voice added an extra level of awesomeness.

[Lanaya Kimbrough · Rating 5 out of 5]

"Excited? I was apoplectic. Especially every time Clarabell got near Princess Summerfall Winterspring, the goody-goody but sexy Indian maiden nonpuppet star of the show. If only he could have burst out of his glorious 'muteness' to say her name out loud- the best name ever! The only other name I wish were mine today (except for Lord or Lady Haw-Haw, which I can't use because they were Nazis)."

[Shawna (endemictoearth) · Rating 5 out of 5]

I did it. I finished the oldest book on my Goodreads TBR!

In the early pages of this book, I found my ticket stub for A John Waters Christmas, performed at The Birchmere December 18, 2013. I bought this book before that, so I'm not sure why it resides there, only that it is perfectly reasonable to do so.

How do you rate John Waters waxing rhapsodic about his heroes and influences, from the sublime to the absolutely disgusting? It is a little difficult, because there were some things that turned my stomach or made me gasp, even though I was braced the whole time for terrible tidbits.

I'm glad I found the audiobook on hoopla, even though it was recorded a while back and had no chapter breaks (if you listen to audiobooks, you know how useful those are!) Hearing him recount these tales and biographies was the correct choice. I did have the physical book to refer to, which was most useful for the photos and images that were used as chapter headings, and in the chapter Roommates where Waters talks about the art he's collected and we see some Cy Twombly scribbles.

I found myself searching the internet for a lot of the people and things he discussed in the book. I also found myself sitting on my hands and NOT googling certain people, bc I knew it would be a rabbit hold of depravity I wasn't prepared for.

I suppose I must award this five stars because it is just so exactly what I expect from John Waters, down to the bits I didn't expect but should have.

[jess · Rating 5 out of 5]

My first reaction:
This book is just pure fucking maniacal hysterical brilliance. You need to read it. Immediately. Get the audio book, please, because there is nothing comparable to the slithering way that John Waters pronounces the word "hilarious."

And after I finished the book:

This is a memoir-ish collection of inspired essays about John Water's "role models" - mostly people he idolizes, but also some minor dabbling in his own potential cult leader abilities. Here he is, the Pope of Trash, the Prince of Puke, talking about his interest in Little Richard, Johnny Mathis, a lesbian stripper named Zorro, his favorite artists in his art collection, his top 5 best books, outside pornographers, and Leslie Von Houten, the incarcerated Manson Family member that John befriended during her 40 years in jail. Mr. Waters is at his most sincere when discussing Leslie and her case for parole. Zorro's chapter is actually mostly based on interviews with her daughter, and John Waters wonders if it is possible to be happy if you live a real-life version of his films. His rallying cries, endless dry wit, insightful reflections, experiences, memories, and distinct level of bad taste make for one of the most incredible audiobook experiences. During his explanation of his pencil-thin mustache, how he developed the concept (with the help of Mink Stole's sister, Mary/Sick/Sique), how he maintains it (hint: Maybelline Expert Eyes in Velvet Black), and how it anchors his identity.

There is explicit and frank discussion of sex, violence, sexuality, pornography, bodily functions, and so on. It's John Waters. It's the fucking truth.


Note to self: John Water's top 5 books

In Youth Is Pleasure - Denton Welch
We Need to Talk About Kevin - Lionel Shriver
The Man Who Loved Children - Christina Stead
Two Serious Ladies - Jane Auer Bowles
Anything by Ivy Compton (but particularly Darkness and Day)

[Ismail Elshareef · Rating 5 out of 5]

I'm a big fan of John Waters' irreverent, twisted films. From the cultish "Female Trouble" and "Pink Flamingos" to the mainstream "Polyester" and "Hairspray." I love them all.

John Waters pioneered the campaign of turning filth into camp. When Divine ate dog excrement (for real) in Pink Flamingo, I was petrified. But I LOLed at the absurdity of the whole thing.

In this hilarious autobiography, Waters introduces us to some of his role models. Don't be alarmed, not all of them are pervs. The beloved Johnny Mathis is one of them (yes, I gagged at that too.) Tennessee Williams is another.

Waters confesses that he "yearns for bad influence and Tennessee was one in the best sense of the word: Joyous, alarming, sexually confusing and dangerously funny." The anecdotes he recounts of the gayest moments in Tennessee William's life are beyond funny.

The most serious part of the book comes when Waters talks about his obsession with Leslie Van Houten, one of the Charles Manson's girls and a close friend of his today. Waters argues for paroling Leslie, or as he calls her, Lulu. He keeps humor to a minimum in his narrative about Lulu. He also talks about the role of LCD in his own life as well as in the Manson's.

Rey Kawakubo, the "genius fashion dictator" behind the Comme Des Garçon fashion line, is another role model of Waters'. He admits, "Mrs. Kawakubo is my God," and that he would "genuflect to raise destruction of the fashion rules. She is formidable, reclusive, intimidating and as described her work as and exercise in suffering."

He comments that, "what used to be called seconds (cloths that were on sale in bargain basements in department stores because of accidental irregularities) is now called couture." With his wardrobe being a "disaster at the dry cleaners," Waters found salvation in Rey's ill-fitting fashion. Definitely one of the funniest chapters in this book.

The rest of his role models are mainly outlaws, most of whom live in Baltimore and Los Angeles. Waters' narrative in explaining his fascination with these characters is funny but also compassionate and kind. His stories about a serious drag queen called "Pencil" and a tough lesbian stripper called "Lady Zorro," both Baltimoreans, were heartwarming and sweet.

Then he moves on to other role models of his, namely the two famous "alternative" auteurs, Bobby Garcia and David Hurles. If you are in any way, shape or form a prude, skip this chapter. It's, um, out there. In it, Waters reveals two sexual fetishes he would never try. You gotta read it to find out.

I was also fascinated to learn that John Waters is a fellow bibliophile. He states in a deadpan manner that, "being rich is not about how much money you have or how many homes you own, it's the freedom to buy any book you want without looking at the price and wondering if you can afford it." Amen to that!

He claims owning, "8425 books, all catalogued but no longer in complete order." One of his favorite books (he recommends five) is Denton Welch's "In Youth Is Pleasure," which is very controversial and twisted to say the least. He praises it as, "so precious, so beyond gay, so deliciously subversive and is enough to make illiteracy a worst social crime than hunger."

The hilarity never stops with Mr. Waters. He is truly a one of a kind. You will enjoy this read immensely, and who knows, if you're still impressionable, he might become your role model!

[Kate. · Rating 5 out of 5]

It's like John Waters and I have tons of mutual friends, except they're not people, they're places: The Bottom, Club Charles, The Kit Kat. That's why, in 2004, my roommate and I invited John Waters to our Funky Kingston Reggae Revival. And do you know that goddam sonofabitch never even called in his regrets! After reading this book, I just have one thing to say to you, Monsieur Les Eaux: Stay the hell away. I don't want you and your clever stories anywhere near my lowly summer parties.

John Waters adores people who either a) don't fit in and don't aspire to fit in or b) create work that deliberately elicits what you THINK would be an unintended emotion. It's pretty interesting when you think of it. Role Models is a hilarious introduction to a whole posse of mutants whose stories I would never have known about, and whose virtues I would never have even paused to consider. People like Johnny Mathis (did you know he is black?), Leslie Van Housen (did you know she has been in prison longer than any Nazi?), and Lady Zorro (did you know... nevermind, I can't even bring myself to write that).

John Waters, please stay away from me and my parties. Because you would probably just exploit it the same way you exploited the rest of Baltimore in this book. Nevertheless, I am torn between labeling you a profiteer or an archivist. When I am Mayor of Charm City, I will tear down William Donald Shaeffer's statue and put yours up instead. And I will draw your moustache on crooked just to be spiteful.

[Jessica · Rating 4 out of 5]

John Waters is such a great storyteller, in writing and how he narrates the audiobook.

[Mark Desrosiers · Rating 5 out of 5]

Funny to think that someone who I look to as a role model, or at least a master of sui generis tastemaking, is himself an agglomeration of tastes, desires, and anti-heroes. Although his chapter on BFF Leslie van Houten tends to circle around the guilt-redemption-justice theme rather too many times, the rest of the book twists and turns deviously from Johnny Mathis to Rei Kawakubo, to his pornographic auteur-heroes, to the hideous artworks that live with him. To hear him talk back to and decipher a load of Cy Twombly paintings is just a wonder. To hear him recount the sad, drunken, amoral tale of local stripper Lady Zorro, the world's worst parent, is poignant and strange. And of course Little Richard, he who young John Waters wanted to become, ends up driving our memoirist berserk with litigious stalling and stonewalling after a semi-glorious interview. A page-turner with lots of great recommendations (esp. in his 'Bookworm' chapter), and a gossipy half-buzzed vibe that feels like you're just listening to him at one of his treasured dive bars. I'd like to hear more about his Thanksgiving with Lana Turner though.

And I never noticed Dorothy Malone's upturned collar in Written on the Wind.

[Ashvin · Rating 3 out of 5]

This was almost a 4 star book until a little more than half way through, and then it tanked. I decided to read this book because I like hearing Waters speak (in interviews on radio shows and what not). This is despite the fact that I have seen--and thoroughly hated--Pink Flamingoes. (I neither hate nor love his more mainstream movies.) One chapter that was unexpectedly moving was the one about his friendship with a former Manson girl (as in one of Charles Manson's followers who participated in killing people). Some of the chapters made me feel, well, filthy (something I'm sure Waters would be happy to hear), and I didn't bother finishing them. If you're not sure about reading the book, I'd recommend that you try and find a sample online and read that. Most chapters are written in a similar tone and style (basically, you can imagine that Waters is talking to you), so if you like the sample, you'd probably like the rest of the book. It's not exactly a must-read, but it could be entertaining... you pervert.

PS -- there were a few fantastic quotes throughout, and I can definitely see how hanging out with Waters would be thoroughly enjoyable.

[Doug Wykstra · Rating 4 out of 5]

Funny and observant throughout. The lifeblood of American comedy writing is in digression, and Waters has no problem using the ostensible subjects of his essays as a springboard to roam far and wide in his stories. The funniest running narrative, which only exists in the background of the work, is Waters's ever-evolving relationship with his parents, who seem to have been equal parts supportive of his ambitions and unable to make heads or tails of them.

One of the standout essays is a piece that mostly concerns itself with contemporary art. Waters writes a few short critical pieces in plain language, as if to tell us see, you don't have to be over-educated or swimming in allusion to write criticism--you just have to have a point of view and the courage to express it. That this point emerges in pieces whose subjects range from postmodern fashion to underground pornography to the music of Johnny Mathis gives you some idea of the range of this essay collection, to say nothing of the coherence.

[Ross Maclean · Rating 4 out of 5]

Ironically fresh-feeling despite the squalid nature of the subjects, by nature of being a quasi-memoir told through writing about *other* people. John Waters is a fascinating man and this book is a filthy treasure trove of art to look up and books to read. It might be about other people but it’s just as revealing about the man writing it. His reputation is well earned and those he idolises, or is even just fascinated by, are consistently engaging to read about via the lens of Waters’ surprisingly astute journalistic keenness.

[Lynn · Rating 5 out of 5]

John Waters discusses various topics that are meaningful to him. It’s a very engaging book. He’s a wonderful writer. Need to read more of him.

[Abby · Rating 4 out of 5]

this filled in some 20th century cultural knowledge gaps for me. john waters keeps u googling...he is ofc a curator of the Weird but also hilariously he seems to never entirely shake his suburban sensibilities

[A Serious Firefighter · Rating 4 out of 5]

Holy words from our Pope of Trash 🛐🛐🛐

[Anna Maiorino · Rating 4 out of 5]

Always touching when someone writes about freaks/nutjobs/whatever you wanna call these people with so much genuine love and admiration! I like the tangents too they always got me reading more in his voice lol. Love this man!

[Tobias Cobbaert · Rating 4 out of 5]

Er is geen oude man waar ik liever vrienden mee zou zijn dan John Waters

[David Ball · Rating 4 out of 5]

Another guilty pleasure. I guess I secretly admired Waters growing up (the original Hairspray is one of my favourite films) for all his trashy eccentricities, but sort of lost track of him in recent years. Not sure how I stumbled onto Role Models, but I very much enjoyed the concept. John Waters tells us about a few of his favourite things: whether it be his favourite fashion designer (Rei Kawakubo), favourite visual artists (Mike Kelley, Cy Twomby), favourite playwright (Tennessee Williams), or favourite gay porn directors (Bobby Garcia, David Hurles). Each selection is well researched, thoughtful, offbeat and interesting. He also talks about his favourite bars in Baltimore and some of his favourite books; I have to admit I have a weakness for authors writing about books. He also writes about Little Richard for his sheer outrageousness; Leslie Van Houten, the Manson girl, whom he befriended; and Johnny Mathis, who I'm pretty sure was chosen for arch piss-taking rather then honest admiration, but with John Waters you never can tell. I wish more people of interest would follow this template: finding out about a person's tastes and enthusiasms can reveal a lot more about their personality than a carefully scripted biography. Well done John Waters.

[Evelyn Burke · Rating 4 out of 5]

This book is like John Water's manifesto of taste, not just taste in art but taste in life and what it should be. To him the cardinal sin is a lack of commitment. That's where his not-quite-not admiration for Leslie Van Houten and the other Manson girls comes from - "my friends went to riots every weekend...to get laid or get high...but we were in a "play" revolution. Here was the real thing."

If the worst something can be is half-assed, being boring is not far behind. John Waters worships the weird and the surprising. With the caveat that some things are so mundane that to elevate them is shocking and controversial in itself. Waters gushes over sculptures made of dirty, smelly cum rags, a saggy cardboard box of old pet toys, a photograph of books with their spines turned toward the bookcase "captured so plainly...you're not sure if (the photographer) felt like taking the photograph in the first place." Art that is reaching for "a threshold beyond which a self-respecting viewer won't look".

While reading I kept on thinking of people I know who work so hard at their craft, agonize over it, wanting to create something meaningful. Isn't selling a pile of cum rags for a couple grand sort of spitting in their faces? But as John Waters says (and I think believes with his whole heart) the only wrong way to do art is to do it with the goal of widespread acceptance and recognition. I'd much rather live in a world where people push the boundaries of weird just to do it and invested time in strange creative endeavors than one where people turn away from their art because they feel like there's no point unless a certain level of success is achieved.

Anyway this book is fun and amusing and campy and gross and I recommend it.

[Michele · Rating 5 out of 5]

John Waters showed me time and again it was ok to be weird, it was ok to be an outsider and always much more fun. This book is no different. It acts as a written self-portrait guiding you through the magic and filth that makes up John Waters. He is warm and charming and when reading this you feel like he is right there with you. As the author reminisces about his life you can image yourself huddled together in grungy sticky vinyl booth in a dark Baltimore bar as your favorite uncle dishes the dirt on the locals and heroes he loves so much. This book is full of the humor, sleaze, virtuosity and sometimes the sadness of his subjects. With Role Models, John Waters has presented a little road map that makes up his charter, from his iconic pencil mustache to his love of 1950s crooners, even a section about the Manson Family, all these bits and pieces of people have come together to create the magnificent person he is now.

Each section of the book contains a few role models, everyone from big-time celebrities to local Baltimore neighborhood icons, pornographers and communist, geniuses and artists, even Howdy Dowdy played a part. The piece featuring Leslie VanHouton, one of the members of the Manson Family, is particularly interesting mostly due to the authors own feelings of remorse for some of his behaviors as a young, naïve, and sometimes insensitive man. It was a very touching bit of writing from John Waters, I never expected him to reveal so much, to be so open about his flaws. The interview with Little Richard, it is simultaneously awkward and sweet. You can feel the tension in the room even though John does his best to keep Little Richard comfortable it was just plain weird, making it perfect. One part of the book features the author professing his love for the crazy fashion of Rei Kawakubo and his love of what could be called eccentric and bizarre clothing. He defends her with such a passion I was easily swayed into becoming a fan. Of course that is what makes this book so much fun; the author has such enthusiasm to share his story with you and with each passing anecdote you lean a little closer in your booth.

This was one of those books you are so sorry to finish. As I reached the halfway point I began to slow down my reading trying to extend the remaining pages but its so much fun to read it’s hard to put down. It’s a collection of the history and capers that produced the fantastic John Waters, it is the kind of book you can open up to any section and delve into an interesting anecdote. I invite you to check this out. Pour yourself a drink and pull up a chair and get ready to let your hair down with your favorite uncle John. Lean in and listen to the gossip, soak up the sleaze, embrace the obscenity and put on your best shoes!

[Ethan Miller · Rating 5 out of 5]

If you're a fan of JW's Crackpot or Shock Value you know what you're getting. Role Models doesn't disappoint. This is basically American culture writing with a keen artists perspective loaded with black/gallow's humor about transgressive hobbies and obsessions. I was particularly engrossed by the fascinating chapter on 'gay outsider porn' and the chapter (complete with step by step instructions) on how to read and enjoy abstract modern art, particularly his decoding of a Cy Twombly scribble piece into a hate letter written by a infuriated workaday man to his boss. But really it's all good and Waters is an excellent writer. In the end Waters does a neat trick in writing an autobiography without having written an autobiography because he is an artist that in many ways we define and identify by the crazy and unique shit that he loves. By that logic, as an icon, the more we understand his obsessions the more we understand the icon. Role Models also takes frequent trips into stories of JW's past, his youth, his friends and art gang in his early film making days, tales of Divine and anecdotes about his career in different stages. For a writer that works in black humor Waters puts a lot of his heart on the page and you often find it disarmingly open even in the midst of some of the strangest and most dangerous sounding places you've ever heard of in the anals of American underground lifestyle.
The chapter on his good friend Leslie Van Houten runs a bit long and strays understandably into a more serious zone where Waters argues that Van Houten has paid for her crime, been rehabilitated and should be released from prison. Perhaps because I'd heard him talk on Fresh Air and other outlets about this cause I found this to be the one lull in an otherwise great read.
In a world where little is transgressive anymore and even less is shocking to an American audience, Waters still manages to fill a book full to the brim of both these things. Awesome.