As a long suffering fan of both the Philadelphia Eagles AND the Boston Red Sox (how this came to pass is too excruciating to recount - suffice it to say that despite the geography, the author would approve) - as well as being an afficiando of Queenan's scathing writing - I found "True Believers" to be both hilarious and disturbingly parallel to my own infatuation with sports, from the amount of time spent watching/obsessing, the lengths to which one will go to attend a crucial game (Queenan writes of returning to Philly from France to watch the Phillies ill-fated attempt at winning the National League pennant in 1976), and the superstitions and routines a fan resorts to in the midst of good fortune (Queenan cites his combined reliance on a statue of a toad with regular visits to a less than helpful psychiatrist to extend an unprecedented run by Philadelphia sports teams). Queenan is also dead on target with his assement of front-running fans.

My only complaints about this book are minor:

1) I was not thrilled to learn about Queenan's infatuation with Notre Dame - he uses his father's Irish-Catholic influence as reason for his allegiance to the Fighting Irish while summarily trashing him elsewhere in the book. On the other hand, his description of South Bend as a never-ending strip of motels is dead-on.

2) After discussing the relative merits of various sports announcers, he concludes the chapter by stating, "And don't get me started on Brent Musberger." I really wish he had, as I would have loved to have heard Queenan tee off on The Man Who Would Be Brent.

3) If Queenan thinks the Red Sox are lovable losers, he hasn't sat in Fenway Park during a Sox-Yankees series.

Those qualms aside, Queenan manages to simultaneously infuriate, entertain, and stimulate his intended audience with his laugh-out-loud observations. If you've suffered through indignities like the 1978 American League playoff game or the 2003 NFC Conference Championship, this book is "must" reading.

As a Detroit Tigers fan(and living in Cleveland, no less)I can understand exactly what Joe Queenan is going through. Yes, I've been alive to see the Tigers win a World Series, but they are and have been for quite a while the laughing stock of baseball. Like Queenan says, why do we like teams if they continually lose and are an embarassment to the sport? I have no idea, but I wear the Old English 'D' on my hat with pride, nonetheless. I was born and raised in Michigan, and three of my senior relatives were Tigers fans, so again, to paraphrase Queenan, I have the geographical acceptance, plus I'm 'carrying the torch'.
No matter how much your team infuriates you, you can't give up on them. You just CAN'T.
The best part of this overall excellent book is the story on the last page. That made me smile more than anything else he wrote. A perfect story and the embodiment of the idea that hope springs eternal, tomorrow's another day, even the Cubs may win the Series one year. Maybe even the Tigers.

To me, Joe Queenan is the Thomas Poling of contemporary commentary.

Let me explain. Tom Poling is a booking agent in Nashville. I first met him through my work; the work relationship, as occasionally happens, developed into a friendship. This was due in large part to the fact that Thomas is a veritable Bartlett's of colorful expressions, many of which I have unabashedly and unashamedly appropriated as my own. Another related factor is that I am unable to complete a conversation with Tom without at some point finding myself on the floor, laughing and unable to catch my breath at some acerbic comment he has made.

The same is true of Joe Queenan. Queenan is the anti-Barney, a keen observer of all those things that prick and irritate the human spirit, of those things that drag us down as a species. It is impossible to read anything he writes without experiencing at least a twitch, if not a full-blown seizure, of painful self-recognition. You'll be laughing so hard, however, that you won't care.

Queenan's books are either collections of essays or treatises on a particular subject. TRUE BELIEVERS is a treatise dealing with sports fans. If you have absolutely no interest in sports, don't fear; I am not by any definition of the term a "sports fan" (this, only because mud wrestling is not yet considered a sport) but, like most people, I am well acquainted with a multitude of individuals who are. They are all in TRUE BELIEVERS, pinned to its pages like butterflies twitching on a fourth grader's science fair project display. The chapter titles tell it all. They include: "Fans Who Love Too Much", "Fans Who Just Enjoy It", "Fans Who Are Short" (a chapter for the kids) and my personal favorite, the one that I have read verbatim to several formerly close friends, "Fans Who Misbehave."

Queenan, in the latter chapter, describes in great detail and with laser-accurate viciousness the escapades of a couple of individuals at a baseball game. You can feel the heat, smell the mix of stale popcorn and rapidly warming beer, and experience the tedium broken by the antics of the people a few rows in front of you. And it is more than hilarious. It is breath-catching, heart-stopping, call-911-I'm-comin'-Elizabeth hilarious. Queenan provides a laugh like this every page or so. TRUE BELIEVERS should probably come with a warning label. You don't want to read it within a half hour or so of consuming a bag of White Castles, one of those new Enchilada Bowls from Taco Bell, or the Reuben Platter at the Tick Tock Diner on Route 3 in Clifton, New Jersey. Your laundress won't appreciate it.

TRUE BELIEVERS is for sports fans, the people who live with them, the people who love them, and the people who can't stand them. It is, in other words, the ultimate book for everyone. Very highly recommended.

--- Reviewed by Joe Hartlaub

Mr. Queenan seems not to have grasped that satire is a weapon of the powerless against the powerful. When satire is aimed at powerless people, it is not only cruel but profoundly vulgar. -Molly Ivins, NY Times Book Review on Imperial Caddy by Joe Queenan

It's hard to imagine how Molly Ivins could be more wrong, though not the least bit surprising that she is. The natural target of satire is not power, but stupidity, and it is simply one of those brutal facts of life that the powerless are often so because they are stupid, while the powerful, though quite often stupid themselves, are usually less so. Satire is however an important weapon to use against the powerful, because their stupidity has a tendency to affect us all, whereas the stupidity of the powerless is generally fairly harmless. She is right though, that the satirist will often appear to be cruel and vulgar; after all, their profession basically consists of pointing out how stupid people are. But it is possible, perhaps even necessary, for them to leaven this effect by pointing out one other thing : their own stupidity. No humorist is more savage than Joe Queenan, but in recent years he's learned this lesson and taken to making himself the butt of his own humor.

When his job as a self described "hatchet man critic" found him watching the Robert Rodriguez film, El Mariachi, which was notoriously said to have been made for $7000, Joe Queenan decided that he was so sick of hearing these kinds of obviously confabulated stories about independent filmmakers that he would try it himself :

[A]ll Rodriguez had proven was that someone could make a movie for $7,000. What would be really cool was proving that anyone could make a movie for $7,000. And that anyone was going to be me.

This book details his misadventures as he sets out to do just that--well, actually to make one for $6,998.

He quickly determined that in order to keep costs down, and headaches to a minimum, his movie, Twelve Steps to Death, would have to be made without professional help, or rather interference, because professionals wouldn't be willing to make the necessary compromises. So instead, he wrote, directed and acted in it himself; used friends, family and neighbors; and shot the whole thing in his hometown of Tarrytown, NY.. Much of the book is taken up by the script and by the very funny process of making the movie, which ends up costing twice the budgeted price even with all the corner cutting.

Then an interesting thing happens, Queenan finds himself getting caught up in the whole deal and starts to think in bigger terms than just showing it can't be done. He starts to think about having a finished product that people will actually pay for. The cynic starts to care. And so he begins blowing larger and larger sums of money to get the picture edited, add sound effects and music, and produce a quality print. He stages and of course wins his own film festival, where Twelve Steps is the only entry and the judges are friends, in-laws, and his mother. Then he takes the movie to a Dallas Film Festival...and the roof falls in on his dreams. In its review of the movie, the Dallas Observer compared it to "a flatulent snuffalupagus, pausing before each target and expelling noxious gases."

This is all very funny, but along the way something more profound is also revealed. Queenan discovers that it just isn't that easy, despite all his sniping over the years, to make a good movie. More important, he offers the reader a chance to see just how divorced from that reality he became. Queenan actually deceived himself into thinking that the movie was good, when it was manifestly, and virtually had to be, awful. And he's one of the most cynical guys on the planet; imagine how much easier it must be for artists, with their inherently dreamy temperaments, to trick themselves. No wonder most art isn't very good. The people who produce it are fundamentally incapable of maintaining the emotional distance that is required to judge it objectively. In the end the joke is on Joe Queenan as he learns this valuable lesson--that people don't set out to make crappy movies, they just turn out that way, despite their best intentions--in devastating, but very amusing, fashion.

GRADE : B

I get very excited whenever there's a new release by Joe Queenan. I don't think there's a funnier writer. I just love his dry, cynical view of the world. This one's the tale of Joe making his own movie - how I ache to see the end result. Buy it. You'll love it.

Joe Queenan has a gift for writing. I have read one reviewer saying his writing is, perhaps, pretentious -- and.. sometimes it is. But, come on... he's really funny. He's meanly sarcastic. It's so great. And who can meld wicked sarcasm with big words?

Oh, ok. I guess some other authors can too. But I still choose Joe Queenan over anyone else. This book, I must say, is either his finest or one of them.

As of 10/17/01, "The Unkindest Cut" is not available. Thank God I have a resonable library. I found this accidentally.. while looking for something else by Joe Queenan, "Balsamic Dreams"(which is also good). I took the book off the shelf, sat down at an empty table, and started reading.

Fifty pages later, I was more than ready to check "Unkindest" out.

Reading this was such a pleasure. I went through the adventures of Joe Queenan for a long time span. And since I'm an aspiring director, this was already an instant classic for me.

If you like Joe Queenan, you will most definetly love this book. Yeah, currently it's not available, but buy one used. They should be available here. It's worth it. It's touching, funny, dead serious sometimes, and just overall one of the better reads I've had the pleasure for a long time.

I picked this up at the library after reading Queenan's My Goodness (2000), a very funny book in which he pretends to seek redemption for his many journalistic sins.

Anyway, I was talking to Joe Queenan the other day and ventured the opinion that he is the undisputed king of snide remarks and deprecating asides. He responded, "I am the king," a line he stole from a mattress retailer out of L.A. He repeats that line to himself aloud every once in a while because he likes the way it sounds. "I am the king." There is a certain quick tempo to the "am" as though he is realizing as he says it that he is indeed the king.

Queenan is actually an entertainment biz critic who came up the hard way, a man who has mastered the fine art of the gratuitous put down and the non sequitur character assassination. He is a kind of like a low rent George Sanders from All About Eve (1950)--a film I know he saw as a kid because I can see his unconscious self still striving to emulate the Sanders character because, after all, the guy's girl of the evening was Marilyn Monroe in her cinematic debut. Ah, how the unrealized dreams of our youth do so guide our wayward path! Although he tries to keep hidden which babes he really likes in the movies, usually insulting one and all, especially the young and fetching ones (slyly kissing it up to his nonexistent female readership), it can be seen that he goes for those blond bombshells, but apparently doesn't want somebody, perhaps his wife, to know.

Our hero, for all that, does have a certain brassy felicity with words that commands attention, the same way a loud highschool band outside your bedroom window might. And the indefatigable choir boy from the mean streets of Philly really has seen more movies, especially bad ones, than I could ever sit through, and so has picked up a little bit of the art of cinema, enough anyway to qualify as a couch potato afficionado. Reading his rude lectures to semi-admired directors and his haranguing of actors he doesn't approve of (that appears to be ALL actors with the exception of David Bowie (yes!)and perhaps John Gielgud on a good day, and certainly NOT, e.g., Olivier, whom he refers to as "Lord Larry"), reminds me of a beer league basketballer critiquing the state college coach's substitution patterns. You have to sort carefully through all the snide remarks and deprecating asides to sift out a kernel of evidence that Queenan actually liked something he saw. My lord, what a life, to spend a significant part of your waking hours watching films you hate. But apparently somebody has to do it. Occasionally in a campy aside on a very bad film, Queenan will pretend to like something. He's like the tough kid who can't allow that he likes anything other than blood and guts for fear of losing face and looking like a wuss.

Anyway, this collection of his work ("essays" is what he calls them) from mostly Movieline Magazine and Rolling Stone in the early nineties will afford one a few chuckles and some real delight if he is lambasting one of your bêtes noires. Otherwise you might find that our boy grates rather annoyingly on the nerves. But, hey, that was the idea.

Some of you may have seen my earlier review of his newer book, Confessions of a Cineplex Heckler. That was a very funny, vicious look at Hollywood and the movie business. This is an earlier book, collecting essays from the early 1990s written for Movieline, Rolling Stone, and one article for the Washington Post, and contains many of the same elements. However, while Heckler was chock full of hilarity, insults, wisecracks and the like, this one doesn't have as many of these. Instead, there are some very fine articles analyzing movies and the careers of certain stars (Jessica Lange, Sean Young, Keanu Reeves, for example). Thus, while I found Heckler much more entertaining than this book, I found this one much more interesting.

That's not to say there aren't hilarious articles dealing with the categorization of movies by various odds and ends included in them (such as the opening essay, which deals with older men falling love and having sexual relations with jailbait in the movies). Some of the funniest articles I've read from Queenan are in this book, such as his attempt to "be Mickey Rourke for a day." In this article, he details how he went four days without bathing, dressed up all in black, and determined to travel throughout New York acting like Mickey Rourke, doing and saying things that he has said in his movies or in interviews. This includes trying to find a prostitute who will fondle a blond woman like the prostitute Rourke makes do this to Kim Basinger in 9 ½ Weeks, smoking tons of cigarettes, and repeatedly telling complete strangers that "sometimes, you just gotta roll the potato." He also swears a lot.

The funniest article in the book has to be his list of 25 of the most senseless movies ever made. These are not movies that are just plain stupid, because usually even stupid movies are easy to follow. No, these are movies that make no sense whatsoever. Included in this list is Joe vs the Volcano, The Night Porter, The Two Jakes, and King David. He goes on to describe just why these movies have made the list. In this essay, he reaches the heights of vicious humour and commentary as he savages these films. Even if you disagree with him (as my wife does on a couple of them), you will still find this article worth reading and laughing at.

Other categorization essays include bad clerics in movies, musicians in movies (and why they usually are terrible), the first installment of "Don't Try This at Home" (where he tries various things that happen in movies and see if they are even remotely realistic), and a complete castigation of the use of bad accents in movies. These articles vary between wonderful and passable, with most being toward the former. "Don't Try This at Home" is the only one that is a letdown. Queenan's at his funniest when he lists movies by category and shows why it is a bad thing that they are in this category.

I was quite surprised, however, to find some truly introspective articles in this book as well. No, Queenan doesn't let his trademark wit leave him, but these articles are tempered by some true compliments and compassion. These articles were written before most of Hollywood started avoiding him, so there are some articles with actual interviews. Queenan uses these interviews as starting points to analyze the careers of the actor or actress in question, and he does a surprisingly fair job of it. The article on Sean Young is very fair to her, even though it does tend to emphasize the fact that she was taking high school algebra lessons right before the interview. Even so, he sounds quite impressed that she'd be willing to do this. Other interviews with Keanu Reeves and Jessica Lange, while perhaps showing them in not the best light, are extremely complimentary of their work, even in bad films. I found these articles very interesting and I'm glad I read them. They showed me a side of the stars that you normally don't see (and that is probably why nobody will talk to him anymore).

He is a bit less compassionate when he is analyzing a career without the input of the celebrity in question, such as when he questions Barbra Streisand's move away from light comedies to the pretentious and disastrous movies she's made since. He also has a brilliant analysis of Alfred Hitchcock movies (or at least brilliant-sounding, since I have never seen one of his movies) and how they represent some of Hitchcock's true feelings about things. It's very insightful, and will take the reader past the surface of his films and dig deep into how these movies reflected his own neuroses. I found it fascinating. Even in these articles, though, he finds some good things to say about the subjects, and that's what made them even more interesting.

The only real misses in this book are the shorter articles. I don't know if it's because Queenan needs time to really delve into his subject to make it interesting, or if he just needs time to get himself going, but the shorter articles inevitably fall flat. Thankfully, that shortness makes them easy to digest before moving on to the meatier, far better essays.

The book is still sprinkled with vulgar language and some of the articles are on the sharp side, so if you don't like biting humour and quite a few f-words, this book probably isn't for you. But if you don't mind that stuff and you like movies, this book is definitely worth reading. You may not always agree with Joe Queenan, but you will definitely enjoy the ride.

Just blew threw this is 2 days, one of those 'couldn't put it down' books. Rarely do I laugh, or even chuckle but Mr. Q provided 2 days worth of jollies. Interesting to see how some of these movie moguls have progressed (or degressed) in the few years since the books has been published. If you too feel insulted by what Hollywood offers us as 'entertainment' get this book. Enjoy!!

Many a year after boy-Quayle has been out of the public eye this book is still a treat. Queenan does a nice little touch of history of the VP while adding nice little bits of humour. In this day and age of stupid people (um, Bush, um, Ashcroft, um, Powell...scary) this book helps you laugh a bit at these fools that lead the nation. Plus maybe question it a bit. Enjoy!

As surprising as it may be, this book quickly moves off Dan Quayle and all his idiosyncracies, and concentrates on a satirical/humourous account of the office of the Vice President. And it is intersting from an academic point of view, but also in the various curiosities that Queenan points out, for eg, that Indiana holds the record for the number of VPs of any US state. I thoroughtly recommend this book, as an introduction to a US political office that has received scant political attention - when it should be just as important - especailly during the election cyncial - as to who is the rtunning mate and what qualifications etc they have should the president no longer able to fulfill their position.

This book about Dan Quayle is not really about Dan Quayle. It is about the politcal life of the United States. The author just uses Dan Quayle as the pirism which he looks thru at the world of politcs and life in. It takes a bunch of pop shots at Quayle, but then, you knew that when you picked the book up.

Basically, the conclusion of the book is the the United States and the world can survive bad leadership. It has survived it in the past, and it can darn well surive it in the future.

It is also a very funny book. Which makes you want to read it.

That's my three word synopsis of this book and the other Queenan book that I read, Red Lobster, White Trash, and the Blue Lagoon.

There is no question that Queenan is funny. I continually drew attention to myself on a cross-country flight by laughing out loud, uncontrollably at certain points.

But in the end, Queenan's journey into the world of do-gooders is so transparently disingenuous that I wanted to throw the book into the recycling bin when I was finished laughing--just like I would do with one of his magazine articles. Queenan plays with the behaviors of do-gooders, but never probes the beliefs or motivations of his subjects. A true satirist would find humor in the self-righteousness of some environmentalists, social activists, etc. and not just in the products that they consume.

There is a long section where Queenan apologizes for being cruel. He apologizes to Sinead O'Connor for lambasting her in public while privately owning and enjoying all of her records. However, when he recants his pledge to be "good" at the end of the book, is he also taking back his apologies? Were they also a phony exercise designed to get laughs?

He claims to drag his family along on these adventures. What do they think when they discover that it was all a ruse and that nothing really changed?

If you want read a book that will also provide uncontainable whoops of laughter and genuinely satisfying content, try David Sedaris's Me Talk Pretty One Day.

Synopsis is as follows: Cynical journalist feels guilty for being a cynic so decides to repent, by being cynical. Of course it is just an opportunity to get into print everything he has ever thought and every letter he has ever written. Therefore satisfying his quite frightening ego. A man of talent would have the ability to convert the everyday into a book, a journalist can merely report, and unfortunately does not know when to stop.
However, it was enjoyable in its pointlessness and no doubt gave Queenan the autodidactic comfort in knowing a tree has been destroyed to immortalise his senseless ego further.

I'm often astonished by critics of Joe Queenan's books. Yes, he is mean. Yes, he is cruel. And yes, he is hilarious. If people are so offended by his material, why read it? Oh well, that is a subject for one of Queenan's own articles. I could not put this book down. This is third Queenan book I've read (along with Cineplex Heckler and Red Lobster) and this is as good or better than the other two. He makes many of the same points that Nick Hornby tries to in "How to Good." The difference (besides the fact that one is fiction) is that Queenan nails it. He tries hard to be good and fails. Of course he does. Neverthless, the journey is fascinating. He is one of the few writers who doesn't give a damn and tells you how he feels. You don't have agree with everything he says to enjoy his work. I admire a guy with those kind of guts (and who grew up on the mean streets of Philly--they grow guys like this there on trees). In addition, several critics have commented on his "right wing" writing--which is hilarious because Queenan slams the right wing many times in his book. He also dares to take on the leftists. He tries to learn about their culture and realizes that is filled with some good ideas--but is also subject many hypocritical failings. I laughed outloud countless times. Ok, so maybe I'm just the kind of Yuppie trash that Queenan is, but he really hits the nail on the head. As a photograph of America at the turn of the century and all it's absurdities, Queenan hits another home run. He wins again--which is better than he beloved 1964 Phillies did.

Look, Joe Quennan is a jerk. He thinks many, if not most movies, are just bad. He thinks many directors are overrated and most actors are shallow, preening nincompoops. And he hates Mickey Rourke. He may be right (especially about Rourke.) He is funny. Mean can be funny; look at the success of "South Park" or "Mystery Science Theater 3000." In another of his books, Queenan is described as a hatchet man movie reviewer. Exactly. If you think most of the current product of Hollywood or foreign studios is tripe, this is the guy for you. This is a collection of pieces originally published elsewhere, so you will get some of the same jokes. That's okay. Just read them a day or two apart, especially where he talks about nun movies or the Blarney blather of movies made about the Irish.

So many nasty reviews about this book have missed one point entirely. Is Joe Queenan funny? Yes. Is Joe Queenan mean and cynical? Of course. Does Joe Queenan have a right to be? Well, have you seen the dreck that Hollywood releases every Friday? Of course Joe Queenan is going to be mean and cynical, especially when we could pay off the nation debt if we took all of our movie going and video renting money and sent it to the government instead of waiting in line to rent "Bring It On" or catch the matinee showing of "Dude, Where's My Car?" I wholeheartedly support Queenan's endeavours, and pray to God Jason Biggs and Freddie Prinze, Jr. will retire from acting. Write on, Joe.

Joe Queenan is a cynical b*stard. No, that's not an insult, and he probably wouldn't take it as such. In fact, he'd probably revel in it and tell me to keep up the good work. Queenan used to write for Movieline magazine and, for me at least, was the only thing worth reading in there. Confessions of a Cineplex Heckler: Celluloid Tirades and Escapades is a collection of some of these articles. As long as you don't mind raw language and (usually) snarky comments about movies and movie stars, you won't find a funnier book of entertainment essays around. I had to read parts of this book out loud to my wife (who has already read it, but so long ago that she doesn't remember details) because I had to talk about them to somebody.

This was my first exposure to Queenan (at my wife's urging) and I can definitely say I'm going to track down the rest of his books. He has a self-admittedly bad attitude which doesn't really suit every reader, but makes me laugh and giggle endlessly at what he says. The title article, where he goes to certain movies and heckles them loudly to see how long it will take before other movie-goers will do something other than say "shhhhhh!" works on two levels: it shows what a complete a** he can be, but it also shows how passive a society we have become. He went to ten films and shouted things at the screen or at audience members who politely asked him to be quiet (such as "The movie's in Greek, pal. Potato chips can't drown out subtitles") In only one of these movies was he thrown out, and most of the other time, people either just tried to ignore him or basically just said "shhhh!" Very rarely did anybody actually do anything about it.

That's one of the great things about Queenan. Sometimes, behind all the cynicism and general bad behaviour, there's a point to his articles. There's a wonderful article on Spike Lee in here, where Queenan not only interviews him, but comments on the interview too. Queenan doesn't ask the soft, simple questions but instead asks Lee things about the craft of his movies, even criticizing a bit and asking him to respond (like asking him about the long, drawn out endings to his movies). He comments in the article about how good he thinks Lee is, despite some of the problems in his films. Some see the article as tearing down Lee, but I saw a lot of respect underneath the smart-a** questions, questions that say "I like your movies, but couldn't they be better if you do [fill in the blank]?" Of course, he does end the article with a note written since the article was published, saying that he would think that, after Lee heckled Reggie Miller of the Indiana Pacers in a playoff game, inspiring him to 50+ points and the win, that the New York Knicks would have "kicked his scrawny a**. No such luck." But again, I think that's his good-natured cynicism.

There are plenty of other hilarious articles in this wonderful book, and only a couple of clunkers. Some of the great articles are: the first "Don't do this at home" where he tries to enact certain movie scenes to see if they are at all realistic, an article on Irish films and their cliches, an article about the suddenly common practice of ear mutilation in films, Antonio Banderas and why he keeps getting pushed down our throats as "the newest star" though his movies keep bombing, bad hair in films, and too many more to mention unless I just do a list, which would get boring really fast.

There are a couple of skippable ones in this book, though. "For Members Only," an article about the mutilation of male genitalia in movies, is kind of boring. An article about how he became a crusader against sitting through bad films, and started reimbursing customers who went to see them falls a little flat. And the article on his foray into watching just foreign films and how he discovers they are the same horrible stuff that Hollywood is putting out, while mildly interesting, lacks some of the zing of his other articles. Unfortunately, the book ends on a lackluster note with another "Don't Try This at Home" article that's nowhere near as good as the first one in the book.

Still, if you like cynical humour, can put up with foul language and wondering if there is a movie in the world that Queenan likes (he does compliment quite a few films, though some of those compliments are sort of back-handed), then you will love this book. Queenan has quite the way with words, and as long as his style doesn't turn you off, he's a great writer. Some of the articles talked about movies I'd never heard of, but I didn't care. His writing made the article worthwhile. Personally, I'm going to be tracking down all of his other books and giving them a try as well.

I'll tell you why -- because Queenan systematically and remorselessly attacks EVERY pop culture icon. He does it in a very, very funny way, but make no mistake, at some point he WILL light into your personal favorite movie or book and make a very strong case that if you watch/read it again, your IQ will drop by 5 points.

If you can take the heat, you'll enjoy the book. But if your ego can't take a little bruising, you'll want to leave this one on the shelf.

A few samples from the index should give you an idea what I'm talking about:

Aykroyd, Dan -- capriciously insulted, 42; capriciously insulted, 48

Bolton, Michael -- likened to ebola virus, 7-8

Branson, Missouri -- as cultural penal colony, 166

Cats -- stunning appeal to gawking midwestern huckleberries, 7

Clancy, Tom -- made fun of for no good reason, 142

Collins, Joan -- command of sixth-grade French of, 29

And my personal favorite:

South, the -- entire hilarious chapter cut out of book by domineering editor

In summary, well worth the cover price, but only if you can laugh at yourself.

Joe Queenan's pen has always had a large amount of poison in it and in Red Lobster, White Trash & the Blue Lagoon, it spills out in buckets. The premise of the book is that Mr. Queenan is immersing himself in pop culture phenomenon like Cats to find out why something so bad is loved by millions. He goes to Andrew Lloyd Weber plays, listens to music like Michael Bolton, goes to Red Lobsters and heads out to the entertainment wasteland in Branson, Missouri. The description of his journey out to Branson is priceless and classic Queenan. He eventually becomes addicted to these things and he tries to climb out of this entertainment death pit. If you enjoy a cynical writer and someone not afraid to offend, then Joe Queenan is your man.

but side-splittingly, bowel-pinchingly funny nonetheless. Queenan's ability to skewer people --his sheer power to just _unload_-- is what drives this book. It's page after page of vitriolic commentary on Americana, and although the tone never changes (he writes like a frustrated pop culture critic...oh, wait...that's because he is one), it's still an absolute thrill. Just a laff-riut.

Sure, there are times when he strikes close to home, and you feel like unloading on the author himself. ("Hey, Queenan! Hop on down from yer little East Coast throne of self-indulgence and chat with the mortals! Maybe we read pop novels because WE ENJOY THEM! How's that intellectually taxing job at TV Guide going, by the way?") But as long as you engage that third brain cell, and have the ability to laugh at yourself, then this book is a must-read. It's a real peach.

The Good: I gave out with many audible laughs while reading this book. Queenan is as erudite as he is vicious, and the results can be extremely entertaining.

The Medicore: Queenan's beefs aren't really about the baby boom generation, per se; they're about liberal Democrats of all ages. It's just that some of the behaviors that can be excused in the very young appear preposterous among the middle-aged. Queenan is really identifying "Baby Boomers" as anyone who thought they were part of some kind of a "movement" during the sixties, have totally sold out to crass consumerism, but won't or can't admit it. The categorization is more political than generational.

The Disappointing: This treatise would have made a great Atlantic Monthly-length essay; it's a funny and valid premise padded out to make a book. If you've read Red Lobster, etc., it's clear Queenan can carry off a quality rant for a couple of hundred pages. He doesn't manage it here.

Another fine and funny effort by Mr. Queenan. Lest you think that I enjoyed the book because I wasn't in the "target category," you'd be wrong. Born in 1954, I am a Boomerian. Does Mr. Queenan sometimes exaggerate? Sure he does. But that's his job, folks- he's a humorist! So, let's lighten up out there. Heck, the cover alone is almost worth the purchase price- Queenan with a queasy, "I love everybody," parody-of-the-60's grin- including the obligatory "peace sign." As with all good humor, we laugh because we recognize the truth behind it, whether boulder-sized ( the irony of the hippie generation becoming so incredibly materialistic) or nugget-sized (the "things-were-better-when-I-was-young" syndrome- exemplified by Mr. Queenan's joke concerning boomer-generation music: "Let me tell you something son- I knew Jeff Beck; and Beck is no Jeff Beck"). This book is a yuck-fest from start to finish, including such inspired items as: a multiple choice quiz to test your status as a true Boomer. Sample question- "Match the following Jims with their cause of death: Jim Morrison, Jimi Hendrix, Jim Croce.....Airplane Crash, Booze and drugs, Probably just drugs" and a chapter entitled "Ten Days That Rocked The World"- sample date: "December 3, 1967- Ginger Baker sports the first internationally famous male ponytail." Is "Smokin' Joe" sometimes less than perfect? Sure- after all, he misses out on such potential humoristic motherlodes as: the Boomer fascination with "designer (bottled) water"; the abandonment of the 60's-70's "small-is beautiful" philosophy- exemplified best, perhaps, by the switch from buying VW "Beetles" to monster "Hummers" and SUV's; and Boomer failure to admit to any TV viewing unless, of course, it's something on PBS or a foreign "art" film on cable. But, hey, even with what's left out- there's still plenty of laughs, humiliation and embarrassment left for everyone!

Joe Queenan has that rare gift: the ability to be both a social critic and a very funny writer. Here he puts his enormous talent to work in criticizing the Baby Boom Generation. His observations are spot on -- and they will make you laugh out loud.

Ironically, one his most telling observation of the Baby Boomers is that they take themselves way too seriously, a fact that can be aptly seen by the number of negative reviews posted here. I'm sure many of these reviewers are descendants of the people who thought Jonathan Swift actually advocated the eating of Irish children.

Ignore the self-righteous reviewers and buy this book!

The cover says that this is the "Best bitter, cynical, and satirical writing in the world." That such is the case is highly questionable, but let's not quibble about that. I already own much of this material so I was a bit let down about that.

If you have a decent library of the classics you may well find yourself in my position. Voltaire's Candide; Machiavelli's The Prince; Pope's The Rape of the Lock; Wilde's Picture of Dorian Gray. They are all sitting on a shelf in my library. What I do not have is Jane Austen's obscure Lady Susan which was not even published until more than 50 years after her death.

I would also note that the selections do not contain any explanatory notes. Many older works use terms and references unknown to the contemporary general reader. If you read Pope's Rape of the Lock in the Norton Anthology of Poetry you will find approximately 75 notes that help the reader understand the classical or eighteenth century references. In "The Malcontents" you get no aids to understanding.

I realize that there may be a certain intellectual snobbery in saying that these works should all be on your bookshelf. I don't think that they need be there, but if you don't already own them, do you want to own them? This book contains a wide smattering of literature from Aristophanes' play The Birds, written around 400BC, to essays by Mark Twain, to short stories by Saki. Whole novels and plays are presented, bulking up the book and limiting the possible variety that could be found in an almost 1100 page volume of satire and cynicism. Indeed only 19 authors are represented.

I really don't think this is a collection that would appeal to the average reader. On the credit page it should be noted that most of this material was taken from Dover editions. As you may know Dover Publications sells very inexpensive copies of the classics. You could get most of the works in this expensive book by purchasing Dover reprints of each of these works for a couple of bucks a piece. And the little Dover books can be easily held when reading in bed, while this compilation can barely be lifted at all.

I bought this book sight unseen, knowing neither what was in it, nor having any reviews to go on. But then, the fact that it's a Joe Queenan compilation of funny writing was all I needed to know. How could I go wrong ?

The choices in this book undeniably live up to the claim of being the best bitter, cynical and satirical writing in the world. But they will already be well familiar to anyone who seeks out this genre.

The first item presented is "The Birds" by Aristophanes. A great play, but I have it already. Then there's a short satire by Juvenal. Then "The Prince", by Machiavelli, is presented whole. I already have "The Prince". It's one of the first books I ever bought. Then there are short excerpts from "Gargantua and Pantagruel" and "Don Quixote". I already have these books in complete editions. Then there's "Volpone" by Ben Jonson. Then there's Moliere's "Le Bourgeois Gentilhomme". Then there's Jonahtan Swift's "A Modest Proposal", which I have read many times by now. Then there's Alexander Pope's "The Rape Of The Lock". Then there's "Candide", by Voltaire, which I have already. Then there's an excerpt from "Justine", by de Sade. Then there's "Lady Susan", by Jane Austen, which I have already. Then there's "The Nose", by Nikolai Googol.

Then there are some lesser-known Mark Twain pieces, which I don't have. That's good, because I already have "Huckleberry Finn" and "Puddnhead Wilson". This is the only author for which Queenan is doing what I think he should, by compiling shorter and uncollected works with which someone might not already be familiar.

Then there are some pieces by Ambrose Bierce, which I have already, in that fairly-priced Dover edition. Then there's "The Picture Of Dorian Gray", by Oscar Wilde. Then there's "Mrs. Warren's Profession", by George Bernard Shaw. Then there are some Saki stories. Finally, there are some pieces by Flann O'Brien.

So for the cost and space of a fat 1200 page book, I only get about 600 pages of stuff I don't have already. If you've never bought any funny books before, this volume might be a good one to start with. But, if you own literature, it's likely that you have most of these works already.