They’re all terrible but in their own unique ways. Terrible in that they’re not to my taste and also because the content are insufferable, but the writing and delivery…aren’t half bad. Readable overall, although very gimmicky at times. Each book amp up the shock factor to keep the pages turning, and I admit I fell for it.
This post isn’t meant to deter anyone from picking up these books. I think you should give them a try if any one of them ever held your interest in the past. Each book is more or less an examination of glamour, sex, violence, and pushing the envelope, though not an intelligible examination, might I add. What these books lack is interesting relevant commentary on our morbid fascination with these topics. IMHO, the authors really missed their chance to say something to tie their stories together or at least show their awareness of this morbid fascination.
I never leave home without at least one book on hand. So I boarded each flight in the hopes of getting a few quiet hours with Bill Bryson or Tana French, and I did get some time to read my books, but then on 3 of the flights, the people who’d sat in my seat before me left behind paperbacks in crisp condition. Quite a coincidence, but not surprising.
And here they are in no specific order:
- The Wolf of Wall Street by Jordan Belfort
- Bright Lights, Big City by Jay McInerney
- Glamorama by Bret Easton Ellis
Doesn’t surprise me one bit that these three books got left behind.