Not me. The book. The book is How I Became a Famous Novelist by Steve Hely. It is the novel you MUST buy–and yes I know capital letters in a post are obnoxious and mean I’m screaming at you. But it’s that funny and that pointed. It’s that good. You need to own it and suck it down.
Publishers, overly earnest and sentimental writers (published and non), Hollyweird, MFA programs, lit journals, bestsellerdumb! It’s all here and you will laugh and then you’ll think. There’s enough truth behind the jokes to make you feel like you’re not sure you should laugh, like the author is making you giggle so you’ll let down your guard as he slips a shiv between your ribs and gives it a half twist.
There is a lot of great criticism of the way things are in this novel–so much in fact that when you finally close the book at four in the morning you’ll be puzzled at how much is satire. There is a slight pullback and redemption after all the hijinks, and I’m not sure I believe the transcendence. Maybe the author really means what he says for most of the book. His criticisms of publishing are hard to fault. If it’s a test of reader cynicism, I failed.
Please do read it and you’ll see what I mean. PLEASE!
Filed under: book reviews, publishing, Writers, book review, How I Became a Famous Novelist
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