May 25, 07
Read in April, 2006
This fourth read from Miller was to be chock full of thoughts and insights on the harsh and hilarious realities of growing up fatherless, as he did when his father "split" when he was quite young. Unfortunately this thin book wades through tales of Miller's years spent in the garage apartment of his friend and mentor, John MacMurray, who's billed as the co-author. (I'd not want my name attached to this book if I was him.)
Long story long, this book was simply a disappointment. The subject matter's of great interest; it's just that Miller really doesn't discuss it, and when he does, it's with all the depth that a high-school junior with solid English-class instruction could muster.
He's really not even that great of a writer. Not once was I compelled to underline a passage or retain a sliver of the contents. I wanted meat; I was handed a bare wishbone. As for any discussion of Miller's literary merits holding up to those of, say, Anne Lamott, I've concluded recently that it's no contest. It's like comparing apples and orangutans. Lamott's writing flows; Miller's a glorified blogger.