How I Became a Famous Novelist Book--LOL

Really and truly -- LAUGH OUT LOUD!

Finally a book that entertained me. A jaded look at the publishing business, it ended perfectly. I laughed all the way to the last page -- except for the lecture by a writer the author didn't like. And he was great, explaining what he was trying to do when he wrote his books. I honestly didn't know whether this was for real or more satire. And that's why I really liked it. Every single page. Hurray for a funny book.

How I Became a Famous Novelist Book 8, I think

How I Became a Famous Novelist

by Steve Hely,

Black Cat, publisher

If Holden Caulfield got a bogus job writing essays for some lame students applying to lousy Ivy League colleges or some crap like that, he'd write this novel. I admit it's been some time since I read Catcher in the Rye (I should read it again, RIP JD Salinger), but I think Steve Hely has read it recently. He's got the tone down perfectly: smart, smart-alecky, maybe even wise, though I'm not sure yet.

But this is a funny book. A cynical look at book publishing and novel-writing and the whole literary scene. I'm loving every badly-written, carefully-punctuated sentence. As he observes, so does he write. I didn't actually notice that at first but my astute literature-loving daughter who's also reading this book, showed me and I am the richer for it. Well, it's making the read even more fun.

Wanting -- Book 7

Wanting

By Richard Flanigan

Atlantic Monthly Press

By the time I had finished the biography of Louis Armstrong, Pops, I was ready for Wanting -- a book with Charles Dickens at the center.

But, ugh, it is so full of ugliness I can't bear it. Already this year I've seen plenty of ugliness -- even poor Pops had his share of sadness, ugliness, violence. But this -- a story of everything from disappointment to cannibalism -- no, I can't. I don't really know how Charles Dickens figures in this dreary tale yet -- but even he is miserable. He's successful, surrounded by family -- and he's disappointed by his wife, bereaved by the death of his youngest child -- and I can't bear it.

It is so miserable after reading Pops. I had no real opinion of Satchmo before I read this biography and there were plenty of times I grew bored with the tedious explanations of his music -- not a trained musician, it meant nothing without a soundtrack. But he was an interesting character, not a saint, but an interesting character with a lot of passion. Now I want to listen to his music.

But I can tell I won't want to reach for David Copperfield after reading Wanting. I may never want to reach for a Dickens book again if I keep reading this awful tale.

I tried. It's the second one I've put down. I gave The Museum of Innocence back to the library rather than finish it. Too many other books, aren't there? How I Became a Famous Novelist, by Steve Hely, is waiting.