This isn't a bad book at all, although it was not 'sidesplitting' as the NYT book review declares on the back cover.
Step one: Take the wave of memoir-itis where everyone thinks their life story is interesting enough to write a book about.
Step two: Write a whacked out parodic example of said wave.
Step three: Publish "naked".
What's so brilliant about it - that it's taking the mickey out of narcisism, or that it's a 'gay book', or what?
A nice light read, but if this is the freshest in American writing, the genre's getting pretty worn out.
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