Irish novelist Kennedy Marr is a first rate bad boy. When he is not earning a fortune as one of Hollywood's most sought after script writers, he is drinking, insulting and philandering his way through... This description may be from another edition of this product.
Published by Books. Oxygen. Peanut butter. , 1 year ago
Was this written by a 12-year-old boy who equates maturity and sophistication with profanity and promiscuity? Most of the words begin with "f." Also, the premise makes no sense: a prestigious writing award is bestowed on an alcoholic has-been who "polishes" others' work (missing all deadlines) when he's not churning out hack movie scripts. Sadly, no one "polished" this work because the title is senseless, the grammar is often messy, and cliches abound. The endless obscure references suggest that Niven is oh-so-proud of having majored in English (an education that obviously didn't include any creative writing courses). After all, heavy-handed erudition is always such fun for the reader. The book is supposedly wickedly amusing and cry-out-loud tender. I can only assume the child's proud mommy wrote the reviews. After suffering through 100 pages, I'll be putting this not-funny, not-sentimental dreck right where it belongs.
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