Cintra Wilson

I love Cintra Wilson; I may have mentioned this before.

Her writing is hilarious and sort of gruesome, which lends itself well to an examination of the colossal fuckup that we Americans now find ourselves in the middle of.

The only thing is that it seems to have been published right before the last election, and it would have been nice to have that whole situation included.

Denise: It's hard to say whether this would be a good book club book--maybe not if you have a lot of people with delicate show more sensibilities. But as an antidote to Ishmael it would be perfect. (Though both are pretty lefty, they definitely come at it from completely different perspectives!) show less

I was trying to describe this book to a friend, and the closest I could come up with was "It's like if Tom Robbins and Maureen Dowd had a sordid one-night stand at some trashy producer's party in the Valley, and nine months later this brilliant and vicious woman sprang forth fully formed from the forehead of the editor of US Weekly."
But better than that.

I'm just sorry I didn't read it right when it came out--the world of fame and celebrity has gotten so much MORE grotesque since 2000 that I show more bet Ms Wilson would be spinning in her grave if she were dead. Which luckily she isn't, so I hope she'll write an update. show less

I wanted to like this book more than I did. I expected to love it unreservedly -- I spend so much time rolling my eyes at the sight of commuters with their faces buried in People Magazine and In Touch that I'm sort of surprised they aren't permanently lodged in the back of my skull -- but the content kept getting tripped up by the ostentatious, aren't-I-terribly-clever writing. Now, I don't mind ostentatious writing, necessarily, but ostentatious mixed with pages and pages of fulmination can show more get to be a bit much. Imagine a coke fiend standing on the middle of the 6 train during rush hour, holding forth, loudly, about the evils of Bush and Cheney. Dead on? Sure. Emotionally satisfying? Well, yeah, in a way. Do you kind of wish he would shut the fuck up already? Yep. That's sort of the feeling I had when I was reading this book. (There was also a bit of self-congratulation mixed in -- Ms. Wilson managed to note her disgust that even as an Award Winning Writer, she had some trouble getting a book deal. Ah, the blind folly of the publishing industry.)

Still, I must admit, I found myself nodding and chuckling a lot at the mordant observations about our celebrity-obsessed culture. And since things have only gotten worse since 2000, when this book was published, I do find myself wondering what Wilson has to say about the Spears Girls, for example. show less

Biting commentary on our worship of fame - ascerbic, witty, and downright mean, but funny