Customer Reviews

Bruce! : My Adventures in the Skin Trade and Other Essays

5 star:		(1)
4 star:		(0)
3 star:		(1)
2 star:		(0)
1 star:		(2)

 

 

I loved BRUCE by Bruce Vilanch. It's not a laugh-a-second kind of book -- it's a series of essays that are sweet-and-sour, and made me smile, laugh, and pause when his wit hit a cultural bullseye. This is a fun, fast read, but its one that has stayed with me. I particularly loved his Hollywood stories (including his memories of the making of the film Mahogany with Diana Ross!). Buy it, read it, pass it on to your friends -- it's worth it.

Ya know, I love this man's sense of humor and feel he can write a one-line joke that will curl your toenails; but reading his essays, I have to say that I got bored waiting around for the one-liner to appear...

Reading this book, that I got at the LIBRARY, (THANK THE LORD)
had me bowled over with canned laughter coming outta my whothave you, but that was just from looking at the cover, and the back of the cover, which you can plainly see merely by seeing the picture of it online. Any book that features the words "LOL" in it's introduction, is never to be taken seriously, and is therefore doomed.

Nothing about this book is even moderately funny. Even when he talks about Hollywood Squares, which is like, chapter 2, or excuse me, ESSAY 2. The rest of the stuff is all this [junk] he wrote for the Advocate...

Zero stars.

If you didn't already hate Hollywood and the egomaniacs that come out of it, you will after spending the half hour (maximum) required to read this bit of ego-on-parade. The wittiest part of the book is a dust-jacket blurb which, on closer inspection, seems to be more damning with faint praise than anything else.

I wish there was something good to say here, but there isn't. Mr Vilanch writes a mediocre-at-best column that should never have made the transition to book form. If you really need to read this, look for it to show up in remainder bins for $1.99 in a matter of months. There is perhaps one readable essay, nary a decent laugh in the book, and while Vilanch may be able to write award acceptance speeches (we assume, for all the back-patting he does), he certainly can not _write_ -- some editing was badly needed for these cobbled-together essays, most of which veer from one dull topic to another like a drunk person.