With Heads in Beds: A Reckless Memoir of Hotels, Hustles, and So-Called Hospitality , something unprecedented has happened in the publishing industry:...more With Heads in Beds: A Reckless Memoir of Hotels, Hustles, and So-Called Hospitality , something unprecedented has happened in the publishing industry: they published a book by (wait for it!)a good writer. >>gasp<< I know. I'm as shocked as you are, really.
While Heads in Bedsis being marketed as Kitchen Confidential with a hotel slant, there's a marked difference between the two books: Anthony Bourdain is a cocky chef who also happens to know how to open a Word Doc on a PC, and thus gets his half-decent memoirs published. Jacob Tomsky, on the other hand? Goddamn, this kid can write.
Don't believe me? Have a look for yourself.
When describing his asshole manager, Tomsky writes that when his supervisor spoke, "it sounded as if his tongue were too swollen for his mouth, the words wet like a flopping fish." (Pen mightier than the sword and all that).
And if you can find me a passage anywhere that more perfectly describes the ambivalence of living in New York City, I'll buy you a Coke: "I couldn't help but think back to New Orleans. Hadn't I been happier there? I was a nicer person there, right? How come I'd even stayed this long in New York? I might have already left the city, but in a way New York put a hex on me. The gravity is so strong here, that center-of-the -world feeling, it made leaving the city unfathomable." I feel you, bro.
And then there is his description of New Orleans during Mardi Gras, which is nothing short of poetry. "I sat down ...watching the evening sun bleed from the streets, the city shifting into night, when it truly became New Orleans: the music, the constant festival, the smell of late evening dinners pouring out, layering the beer-soaked streets, prostitutes, clubs with DJs, rowdy gay bars, dirty strip clubs, the insane out for a walk, college students vomiting in trash cans, daiquiri bars lit up like supermarkets, washing-machine-sized mixers built into the walls...lone trumpet players, grown women crying, clawing at men in suits, portrait painters ... jazz music pressing up against rock and roll cover bands, murderers, scam artists, hippies selling anything, magic shows and people on unicycles, flying cockroaches the size of pocket rockets, men in drag ... the affluent, the beggars, the forgotten, and the soft spring air pregnant with every scent created by such a town." Whoa. (Yeah, Jacob Tomsky is in no way an Anthony Bourdain. Hey Norton people, are you reading? Anthologize this shit already).
And don't worry. Despite the good writing and many references to classical philosophy and literature (and those references are correct, by the way, which in itself is surprising given that publishers crank out any old crap without bothering to check Cliff's Notes for accuracy), the book is hilarious (think of me when you get to the section about Room 212) and is bound to inspire a maniacal laugh or two.
The hotel info? Just an added bonus. All of Tomsky's tactics are likely to score you upgrades and free alcohol the next time you stay in a hotel. Sweet!
Hmmm, let's see.... Exceptionally good writing, humorous, and useful. Know what I call that? Un-put-down-able.
**Update** Once again, I'm left astounded by Goodreads reviewers. The shitty books get rave reviews and the outstanding ones get bad reviews because "...more**Update** Once again, I'm left astounded by Goodreads reviewers. The shitty books get rave reviews and the outstanding ones get bad reviews because "this book wasn't what I expected"?? Normally I don't give a damn if someone doesn't like a good book, but come on. You're pissed off that a book with Everest on the cover turned out to be a memoir and not a mountain climbing guide? You've got to be kidding me. Ugh, go read Fifty Shades of Grey or something.**
This book was absolutely wonderful. Not only was it un-put-downable, but it also had that even rarer quality of I'm-going-to-read-this-again-and-give-copies-to-all-my-friends. It even had the adventurous spirit of any great Jon Krakauer work and a narrative arc that would have Hollywood producers salivating. Damn.
You need to read this book. NOW.
Frances Slakey is a total babe, a science professor at Georgetown, and a record-setting athlete who pursued the highest peaks on every continent and surfed in every ocean ... Oh, and at one point he was also a completely detached, self-centered asshole who was indifferent to humanity and vowed never to marry, never to have children, and never to own a home. (Sounds like someone I would have dated in my twenties, actually. Thank God we never met.) :)
As Slakey tells the story of his cynicism softening and his self-contentedness unraveling, I felt myself smirking at the text. Sure, sure, tough guy goes fuzzy on us after he meets the right woman, then writes a book about it, yeah, yeah, it's been done, thanks for the story, dude.
Well. I was wrong. Oops.
Slakey's isn't some cliche' about going to the Himalayas and finding himself after climbing Everest and talking with a Buddhist monk. Rather, it's the story of one man's slow and imperfect transformation and gradual understanding of what it means to be human. And no, I don't mean that he finally got a heart like the Tin Man and is finally able to embrace his inner child and admit to watching Oprah. Nah, I mean that Slakey goes from being a self-centered tool to being someone who teaches, inspires, and finds solutions that positively affect humanity. In short, Slakey comes to do something we all should be doing: he does good.
Really, really great book. Touching, honest, and a damn good read.
What makes writing a unique medium of communication is that it invades your mind. When you watch a film or have a conversation, so much is easily forg...moreWhat makes writing a unique medium of communication is that it invades your mind. When you watch a film or have a conversation, so much is easily forgotten. Writing -- good or bad -- has the power to remain with you for a long time.
Needless to say, as I was buying this book for one of my grad school classes, I didn't expect Orozco to be a good writer, and certainly not an exceptional one. I was more or less convinced that my purchase was to fund the writing career of someone who was likely a friend of the professor. Well. Sometimes (albeit rarely) I'm dead fucking wrong.
When I finished this book, I couldn't stop thinking about it. I was obsessing about the stories and felt the need the go sit outside and contemplate life for a while. (The last time I felt this way was when I first read The Lady With the Little Dog by Chekhov.)
Let me try to explain.
There is something unsettling and unnerving about these short stories. The characters are raw and realistic, the humor is biting, and the narration is distant. We're simply told what is, and not what to feel, yet you come away with strong emotions. These are portraits of people that any of us could have been at some point in life: a person who turns to food in the throes of grief; a jittery temp employee who finds intimacy in odd places; a person with a lifelong secret. Even the larger-than-life characters (a brutal Latin American dictator; a violent athlete; a war vet now immobilized by his obesity) are depicted in ways that render them remarkably human.
Perhaps my favorite part of this book is Orozco's subtlety. He almost never tells you that a character dies, but death is inferred or implied in ways that are so beautiful that they take on a mystical quality. Also, he possesses the rare skill of describing the weather without sounding like an asshole -- his simple descriptions of the sky or the light from above intensify scenes in ways that few writers are able to accomplish.
The result of all of this is that you come away from the book being completely moved, though you were unaware of any of it happening at the time.
"Just move your legs. Because if you don't think you were born to run, you're not only denying history. You're denying who you are." --Born to Run.
Th...more"Just move your legs. Because if you don't think you were born to run, you're not only denying history. You're denying who you are." --Born to Run.
This book is really, really simple. If you're not a runner, the book will entertain you like the best of any of Krakauer's stories. If you do run, it will change your life. Actually, if you don't run and this book doesn't change your life, something is wrong with you.
The "I can't run because of my knee/back/feet/Achilles tendons/whatever you-fill-in-the-blank" excuses no longer hold water after you read this book.
So, get your copy, get outside, and move your legs. Run, because we are all made to do it. Get out there, run like a muthafucka, and live bad-ass. NOW.
Kicked so much ass that I will probably read it again.
Normally I'd never take a book recommendation from NPR. Much like the New York Times, I'd expect public radio to encourage me to read agenda-driven dr...moreNormally I'd never take a book recommendation from NPR. Much like the New York Times, I'd expect public radio to encourage me to read agenda-driven drivel that bores the hell out of me. So, imagine my surprise when, circling a parking lot looking for a space, I hear the following premise on an NPR book review:
"The billionaire creator of the world's most widely used virtual reality system has died and left behind a series of riddles hidden throughout his virtual world. Whoever successfully solves these riddles will inherit his vast fortune. A massive hunt ensues."
And ... ZING! I downloaded the book and couldn't put the damn thing down all week until I finished it.
This book has all of the essential elements of serious ass-kicking: easy to read, a fast-paced plot, an underdog hero that you can't help but root for, a love story, explosions, humor, suspense, and lots of bad guys. The world of virtual reality, the references to the 80s, and the nostalgia for simpler times just add to the entertainment.
The best part? You don't have to be a computer nerd, a video game enthusiast, or a child of the 1980s to appreciate this book. This is simply a great story that transcends genre, written by a clever guy who always stays 20 steps ahead of the reader. It's about frickin time.
It's not often that I like a book, so listen up and listen well.
If someone had given me the bare bones outline of Tipping the Velvet and suggest I rea...moreIt's not often that I like a book, so listen up and listen well.
If someone had given me the bare bones outline of Tipping the Velvet and suggest I read it, I'd have kindly told them to piss off. I have a job, a kid to raise, and an already low tolerance for contemporary fiction. A book about cross-dressing lesbians in Victorian England wouldn't spark enough interest in me to get past the title page.
Silly me. Good thing I thought that "tipping the velvet" was a reference to the theater (hint: it's not) and mistakenly believed I was buying a book about East End actresses. This mistake was a blessing, and this novel renewed my faith in modern fiction.
Tipping the Velvet carries a variety of themes that have bored me since my first Women's Studies classes in college: identity, cross-dressing, gender roles, and sexuality. Yet, alongside these nearly foreign concepts were the universal themes found in all great works of literature: passion, lust, betrayal, scandal, violence, redemption, and love. So, what did it leave me with? A book that shot a breath of life into all of those tired old themes. A book I couldn't put down, and not just for the positively raunchy (and at times touching) sex scenes that had me blushing to my hairline. No. What kept me hooked was the astoundingly good writing:
When describing being backstage at the theater after a performance, "I caught a glimpse of ladders and ropes and trailing gas-pipes; of boys in caps and aprons, wheeling baskets, manoeuvring lights. I had the sensation then - and I felt it again in the years that followed, every time I made a similar trip back stage - that I had stepped into the workings of a giant clock, stepped through the elegant casing to the dusty, greasy, restless machinery that lay, all hidden from the common eye, behind it."
When telling us about a dirty mirror, we're told that the "small looking glass [was] as cloudy and as speckled as the back of an old man's hand."
When discussing the ways of her tyrannical lover: "There is a way rich people have of saying 'What?' The word is honed, and has a point put on it; it comes out of their mouths like a dagger coming out of a sheath. That is how Diana said it now, in that dim corridor. I felt it pierce me through, and make me sag. I swallowed."
Yeah. Writing like that will keep you up at night.
The hot sex scenes? The bizarre gender roles that previously would have left me uninterested? The story itself? All just added bonuses. This chick could write about paint drying and make it fascinating. She makes cross-dressing, hooking, and other >ahem< "unmentionables" ;) seem completely exciting, alive, and blessedly normal. I love it.
Finally. A work of fiction that doesn't suck or make me feel like I've gotten dumber by the time I've finished it.
Jeannette Walls had the kind of parents that make even the freakiest families on Wife Swap look like saints.
These are the kind of people who let their...moreJeannette Walls had the kind of parents that make even the freakiest families on Wife Swap look like saints.
These are the kind of people who let their 3 year-old cook hot dogs, and when she catches on fire and has to get skin grafts, they end up breaking her out of the hospital. They are the types that put three kids and a newborn in the back of a U-Haul truck and don't notice that the back gate flies open as they speed down the highway. They spend every cent on booze and food for themselves while their kids don't have one decent pair of shoes and root through trash cans at school for something to eat. They tell their daughter that her near sexual assault is just a "perceived crime." They blow every chance they get, from inheriting a home and letting it be overrun by roaches and termites and vagrants, they lose job after job after job before finally settling in some holler in West Virginia that probably made Loretta Lynn's childhood home look like a mansion. The whole book is a series of bad choices and disasters, and everything keeps getting worse.
Amazingly - especially among today's writers - Walls never once sinks in to bathos. She never even tells us what she herself was feeling. She describes her family dysfunction and triumph against adversity without getting in our faces. Given that so many writers lately are emotionally manipulative, there was a huge feeling of liberation in having an emotionally absent narrator. Combine that with great writing and you've got an official unputdownable book.
I don't know about you, but when I lived in New York, my life WAS my office job. That is, talking about sales...moreThis is the kind of book everyone needs.
I don't know about you, but when I lived in New York, my life WAS my office job. That is, talking about sales forecasts, writing up spread sheets and cursing Excel when I couldn't copy/paste from one cell to another, and being encouraged to think of ways I could improve the company while knowing I could be laid off at any minute. All so common, and all such a snore. Now, even my exciting life in Italy is still tedious at times, albeit for different reasons.
Then a book like this comes along to rip us out of the goddamn delirium of every day life.
This is the true story of when men were men and the world was a place to be explored and conquered so that the blank places on maps could be filled in and the Queen could get a few more jewels in her crown. The ballsiest of all explorers, Percy Fawcett, thought that hiking through the Amazon in a search for the legendary city of El Dorado was a good way to spend his time. KICK ASS. And there's even more fun here: swarming mosquitoes that carry disease, small catfish that like to lodge themselves IN the anus or urethra and can only be removed by surgery, blood-sucking bats, disease, parasites, and Indians in the bush just waiting to shoot you with poison arrows and shrink your head, sell it to collectors, and have it turn up in a pawn shop in Vegas. WICKED! Fawcett's eventual disappearance and the likelihood that an ancient, advanced civilization thrived in the Amazon and was wiped out by conquistadors are sobering reminders that this incredible story is as true as it gets.
This book is a mystery, an adventure tale, and travelogue all rolled into one fly-through read. And it's the kind of thing that makes spreadsheets, the 9 to 5 drill, and even Excel, bearable.
Well, well, well. Now here's a thriller with a nice twist: a serial killer is on the loose in Stalinist Russia. Except that in Stalinist Russia there...moreWell, well, well. Now here's a thriller with a nice twist: a serial killer is on the loose in Stalinist Russia. Except that in Stalinist Russia there is no such thing as crime. Well, except for political crimes like reading banned litterature, looking at someone the wrong way, "plotting" against the state by working too close to a Western embassy, making a drunken joke about Stalin, etc. But murder? No, comrade. Not unless Siberia suddenly sounds good to you.
What you end up with is a fast-paced mystery about a desperate manhunt for a serial killer, and a flawed political system trying to stop it at all costs. What can I say? KICK ASS.
Cool story, ending a little too neat, but over all, ROCK! (less)
Picked this up in 2003 when I was bitter about my first love coming to an end. As I started reading, I realized that this was not some silly little ch...morePicked this up in 2003 when I was bitter about my first love coming to an end. As I started reading, I realized that this was not some silly little chick-lit book of sappy guys-suck rants, but one of the best poetry anthologies I've ever read. It includes some moving verses by May Swenson, along with William Carlos Williams, Margaret Atwood, Donne, Auden, and good ol' Bill Shakespeare.
This book won't mend a broken heart, as it claims. If you want to do that, slash the dude's tires and sleep with his brother. If you want a kick-ass collection poetry divided into the categories of age, Sadness, Self-Hatred, False Hope, Resolve, Relapse, Real Hope and Moving On, this is the book for you.(less)
Sadly describes to a tee every boyfriend I've ever had ... and have yet to have, apparently. You'll find every guy in here .. and a little compatibili...moreSadly describes to a tee every boyfriend I've ever had ... and have yet to have, apparently. You'll find every guy in here .. and a little compatibility test at the end, because after all, you do have to choose one of these bastards. :)
In all practical theory, this book should be on my 'Sucked' shelf. It's a tale of the Middle Ages, the gross injustices of the time, and it truly amou...moreIn all practical theory, this book should be on my 'Sucked' shelf. It's a tale of the Middle Ages, the gross injustices of the time, and it truly amounts to a thousand-page Medieval soap opera. It hasn't got much to do with it's predecessor The Pillars of the Earth, except that it's in the same location 200 years later, with characters that are "descendants" of the Pillars characters. There's none of the complex building and architectural aspects found in Pillars, the graphic sex and violence has been toned down, several aspects of the plot are predictable, and the dialogue seems strikingly modern for a novel set in the 14th century. So, why is this book not on my 'Sucked' shelf? ...
Because it KICKED ASS.
With all of the above-mentioned problems in the book, it takes on hell of an author to pull off this kind of novel. Kenn Follett just plain rules. The story goes at a breakneck pace, the descriptions of the feudal system are fascinating, and the characters are complex and multi-faceted. For every (small) predictable plot twist, there are a million little shockers, and at the end, there are a few questions about the truth lingering. Frickin great.
I also found Follett's descriptions of the complete powerlessness of women and the ultimate authority of the nobles described with total intensity, and they are displayed over and over again through the stories of the characters. Equally interesting were the power struggles between the church, the people, and the nobility. Conflict everywhere! Love it!
Another great aspect of this book was the concentration on Medieval ideas about health and medicine, especially during the time of the plague. Given that monks are the only physicians, the best cures are blood-letting and applying goat-shit to open wounds to form a "healthy" pus. If you sit closer to the altar in the church hospital, you'll heal faster. [Although slight scientific advances are made in the book, the lingering affects of the church's bogus medical ideas seem to have transcended the centuries to live on in modern Italy: cover your stomach to avoid catching a cold, wait 3 hours after eating before you swim or you'll drown, sunflower oil is good for the flu, humidity causes low blood pressure, and canker sores are caused by indigestion. A complete aversion to all forms of medicine are also fundamental in this society. (i.e. Yesterday my French friend Sandrine had a headache. Italians don't like to take Aspirin because it will "destroy your liver," but Sandrine is French and has no problem with taking meds, so I offered her an Aleve. "If you don't want medicine, be Italian and kiss this," I said to her, holding up my pocket-rosary.)]
Anyway, great book, totally fascinating, very different from Pillars of the Earth, and written by a guy who truly is a master writer.
Vassar professor Don Foster's true story of being a literary detective. He outed the unibomber, discovered a lost sonnet written by Shakespeare, and e...moreVassar professor Don Foster's true story of being a literary detective. He outed the unibomber, discovered a lost sonnet written by Shakespeare, and exposed the guy who wrote Primary Colors. He's able to do this simply by reading, arguing that each person has their own writing style as individual as their own fingerprints. Pretty cool read.(less)
Read this when I was stuck in an Italian hospital after an appendectomy when I was sixteen. Loved this and would love to reread it, plus the sequel. T...moreRead this when I was stuck in an Italian hospital after an appendectomy when I was sixteen. Loved this and would love to reread it, plus the sequel. Thanks to Nicole for introducing me to this one. :)(less)
Tommyknockers,Tommyknockers,knockin' at my door. >shiver<
This is another one I picked up when living in small-town Italy when I was 16 because...moreTommyknockers,Tommyknockers,knockin' at my door. >shiver<
This is another one I picked up when living in small-town Italy when I was 16 because there were no other books in English at the bookstore.
How Stephen King comes up with this shit, I have no idea. All I know is that a metal plate in your head can protect you from alien invasion. :-D
Not only was this book ultra-creepy, it was a great story with tons of wild plot twists and random characters that only King could dream up.
The best part of King's novels is that no character is sacred, especially not the ones you're the most attached to -- the ones you love and have come to understand? Maybe identify with a little bit? Possibly even sympathize with? BAM! They're the first to go.
So my school had too many new jr. high students the year I started, and there weren't enough classes, so we all got shoved into this one bitchy teache...moreSo my school had too many new jr. high students the year I started, and there weren't enough classes, so we all got shoved into this one bitchy teacher's classroom during her free hour and were forced to do "silent reading."
Thus, I wound up reading an old copy of Different Seasons that I'd found laying around the house ... I think this book traumatized me. Kick ass. (less)
I can't remember why, but I read this one when I was 13.
I've never been afraid of vampires, except for the short week in my life when I read this boo...moreI can't remember why, but I read this one when I was 13.
I've never been afraid of vampires, except for the short week in my life when I read this book. (less)
I should note that I read almost all of the Stephen King books on my list when I was sixteen and living in small-town Italy -- literally, in a villa i...moreI should note that I read almost all of the Stephen King books on my list when I was sixteen and living in small-town Italy -- literally, in a villa in the sticks. The only English-language books at the bookstore were Stephen King novels.
I'll never forget reading this book on a stormy night, branches thrashing against my window, thunder, lightning, rain flying sideways, and me, nearly pissing myself with fear as I read, and praying that no one would come in one of the four entrances to my bedroom and kill me.
What the hell is wrong with Stephen King, dude? The man is sick.
I'm not a literary critic, obviously. My description of books as sucky/trite/trash, etc kind of make me wonder how I ever even majored in English Lit...moreI'm not a literary critic, obviously. My description of books as sucky/trite/trash, etc kind of make me wonder how I ever even majored in English Lit all those years ago. But let me see if I can describe Chekhov in the way I've come to understand him ... and his awesomeness. (heehee)
Chekhov was a doctor before he was a writer, he knew how the human body worked, he knew the human mind, and he knew what external stimulus (the weather, the look in a person's eye, the placement of a strange object) could have on a person's physical being and their psyche. Combine this with this unmatched talent as a writer, and you've got the kind of writer that can touch your heart, wrangle your emotions, and fuck with your mind unlike any other.
When I read The Lady With the Dog, I had to go sit under a tree and contemplate life for a while. When I read the desire in the dialogue in The Seagull, I had to call my boyfriend. I didn't know why these things would happen when I read Chekov. The words were simply there on the page, no? No force was making me melancholic, no one was telling me to get randy from The Seagull and call my boyfriend.
No, Chekov is deeper than that. It's almost like hypnosis, the descriptions, the word combinations, etc. He writes one thing, but the way you will understand it and digest it mentally and physically is completely unexpected.
Dorothy Parker kicks so much ass that I want to re-incarnate as a man, go back in time, and sleep with her. Just so I can say I did.
Dorothy Parker is...moreDorothy Parker kicks so much ass that I want to re-incarnate as a man, go back in time, and sleep with her. Just so I can say I did.
Dorothy Parker is one of the wittiest people that lived, and her poetry and stories are so simple that any half-wit could understand it (heehee) and appreciate her genius.
I normally never buy NY Times bestsellers, as it's usually the morons of America that cause the shittiest books ever written to end up on this list. T...moreI normally never buy NY Times bestsellers, as it's usually the morons of America that cause the shittiest books ever written to end up on this list. The Book of the Dead was an exception I made. This time American readers got it RIGHT! I just finished this book and I'm still reeling.
This book is the way a thriller/myster should be written. It's full of complex, well-developed characters, it has an evil genius (part Hannibal Lecter, part Sideshow Bob) conspiring to ruin lives, a cooped-up mysterious girl living in a NYC mansion, seduction, explosions, hypnosis, prison escapes, murders, light shows, ancietnt Egyptian curses, a final showdown on a FRICKIN VOLCANO in Italy, AND A BOMBSHELL ENDING! Christ, this book RULES! -- and it's all written in such a fast-paced way that you NEVER get bored. Extra bonuses?
1) You can NEVER predict anything. Any half-wit could have predicted the ending of The Da Vinci Code, and elements of other great thrillers like Red Dragon and The Girl With the Dragon Tattoo also have predictable parts. Not this one. The writers are too smart for you, and they stay 10 steps ahead at all times.
2) The two main characters KICK ASS. The evil genius isn't just bad, he's a meniachal nut-case that you almost have to admire for his psychotic brilliance. His brother, the equally brilliant FBI agent, gets his ass kicked just enough to make him believable, but not a wussy. ROCK ON.
3) I didn't even know until half way through the book that it's the most recent in a series. They give away nothing about the other books, so I can go back to number one and start reading without knowing what happened. WOOHOO!
4) Most importantly, this book isn't just a story. When a book is just a story, I get driven nuts. Good authors, like these ones, include other shit in their books because they're SMART and they know how to keep a reader interested. This book will have you googling shit, looking for places on maps, trying to find out more information about historical figures, downloading classical musicians you'd never ever heard of, and checking up on Oscar Wilde quotes, etc. THIS, to me, is what makes a novel great: elements of intelligence, and not just a stupid story. Think I'm wrong? Uhhh, two words for you: Ken Follet. Here are some more: A.S. Byatt. William Styron. Margaret Atwood. I can keep this up all day.
Anyway, AWESOME READ, am SO going to read this entire series. ROCK AND ROLL!! (less)
Incredible story of survival, a fast read, and especially interesting for those like me who have a morbid fascination with Communism/The Cold War.
The...moreIncredible story of survival, a fast read, and especially interesting for those like me who have a morbid fascination with Communism/The Cold War.
The title is pretty self-explanatory: the story of the only American woman to survive Stalin's Siberian gulags and eventually return to the USA. However, reading the end notes and coming to the "Challenge to the Reader," in which the author (the son of the camp survivor who has written his mother's tale and she told it to him) encourages the reader to no longer tolerate America's liberal media and to adopt Christ, had me ready to toss the book out the window and write this joker an angry email. This is the story of his mother's heroism and survival, it it's your little soapbox for him to spout out his political agenda. Ass monkey. The "Challenge to the Reader" section almost calls the whole book in to question, and was such an unnecessary add-on that I can't believe the publisher allowed it -- hopefully it will be removed from further editions.
The most KICK-ASS anthology ever! Charles Bukowski, Vladimir Nabokov, and Dorothy Parker all in one book?! Writing about debauchery?!
The coolness of...moreThe most KICK-ASS anthology ever! Charles Bukowski, Vladimir Nabokov, and Dorothy Parker all in one book?! Writing about debauchery?!
The coolness of it ... it's been bringing me to a near seizure since I fist bought this book when I was 15.
La Petite Américaine
>
Books:
kicked_ass
(41)
×
Loading...
