Customer Reviews

The God of Driving: How I Overcame Fear and Put Myself in the Driver's Seat (with the Help of a Good and Mysterious Man)

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If this book were a vehicle, it would be a gangsta-customized SUV: flashy and big on frills, yet cumbersome and pompous. It would have a small engine, and its suspension would be stiff, as Amy Fine Collins remains throughout this overlong, underpowered memoir. Those familiar with her pieces in Vanity Fair may enjoy Collins as a competent if sometimes unintentionally amusing writer. But after fifty pages of this tale, I couldn't believe something so precious and narcissistic had been published by Simon & Schuster. Yet, as I plowed on, the many solecisms, misspellings, and other misuses of language that got past its editors began to make me lose confidence in Simon & Schuster itself.

Indeed, the writing quality of The God of Driving suggests that what Collins really needs is a Deity of Diction or a Saint of Syntax. There are misspellings and typos: "supercede"; "prize open" instead of "pry open" (a door), and misuses of such words as "comprise," "intriguing," and "ethnic." Just as annoying, given the choice of a simple, direct word or a genteelism, Collins generally goes for bloat: "diminutive" rather than "small"; "resided" instead of "lived"; "purchased" rather than "bought," etc.

It's also hard not to groan at her "art history lite" similes: a seat belt "snaked itself around my chest like one of Laocoön's attacking serpents"; "Like an Olympian arrow launched from Diana's bow, he shot onto Park Avenue"; a Maserati engine "rippled beneath our stunned gazes like the abdominal muscles of a Roman god." Then there are Collins's inaccurate classical references--Terence, not Seneca, wrote "Nothing human is alien to me"--and her dubious pronouncements on academic matters: art history is a "field that deals in ideas more than things," I was surprised to learn. Overall, the writing tone is effete and bloodless, the dialogue arch and unrealistic.

Some of these problems would be forgivable if Collins herself weren't so insufferable. Her conceitedness can be breathtaking...almost comic: "What were [Attila and I] doing together--and what would have happened to him if he had never met me?"; "Normally the kind of person who's invisible to me...[Attila] wanted to prove to me that he wasn't at the bottom of the food chain." (With her frequent name-dropping of celebrities, designers, and opulent car brands, it's clear that Collins herself is the one with something to prove.)

Coming as all this does from a middle-class Tennessean who married up to New York WASP money, one expects to hear a bit of self-deprecation when Collins touches on class-related matters. Yet she takes herself seriously. She's led what she calls a "cerebral" life, writing about divas, decorators, and glitterati for Vanity Fair. It's no surprise that Collins finds Bentleys--ride of choice of hip-hop moguls and Mafiosi--so alluring.

As her recitation of luxe goods reaches its apogee ("Into the secret compartments of the Vanson jacket I zipped my cell phone and a tube of MAC Viva Glam lipstick"), one wonders what Collins is trying to achieve...aside from evoking the envy of aspiring nouveaux riches.

As a quasi-romance, this book has little to offer. The Amy-Attila relationship never rises above infatuation, as the author's coy overtures are rebuffed by the smug, elusive Turk. Though there are a few moments of genuine, adult tenderness, Collins comes off as rather girlish for a woman pushing fifty...longing breathily for a dominant-yet-caring father-figure in Attila.

As a self-help text, will this inspire many auto-phobes to take driving lessons? It's unlikely. Like its author, the book is thin on substance and big on superficial externalities...mediocrity decked out in lavish accoutrements. Could a sequel be in the cards? Nisht fur dich gedacht!

I can't believe so many people actually enjoyed this stiff and unbelievably abnoxious book. The book is centered around Amy's style and her and her driving instructor's so called knowledge. The two main characters (Atilla and Amy) spend the entire book philosophosizing and psychoanalyzing each other but instead of feeling uplifted and enlightened I felt more like I was in the middle of listening to the emotional ramblings of Brittany Spears. If you are interested in a book with zero style and no flare this is just the book for you!

It's hard to decide what's worse about this book: the pretentiousness of the author or the dullness of the vignettes that reveal it.

You also have to wonder what Amy's husband made of her flirtations with Attila. The book comes off as a major indirect insult to that poor fellow! Or maybe he just didn't care.

This seems to be a book mainly about a "nonrelationship" between a manly driving instructor and a very girly middle aged woman. Some of the car information is mildly interesting, but the endless analysis of their lack of a real relationship is just plain boring. It is also difficult to understand how the mother of a nine year old would be willing to risk her life on the back of a motorcycle. Guess it takes all kinds!

Learning to drive and learning to do it well become the means of defeating old fears and widening one's horizons in this highly enjoyable and extraordinarily inspirational book. It is as much a journey through a mutually perceptive friendship as it is a paean to automobiles, driving and achieving greater self-reliance. The author's mysterious teacher and his adventurous teaching methods are as fascinating as the author's personality turns out to be. Personally speaking, it motivated me to move beyond memories of horrible accidents in my childhood (similar to events in the author's youth) and finally to begin to learn to drive. Recommended to everyone who loves to drive or wants to learn to do so!

Amy Fine Collins manages a perfect blend of self-deprecation, wit and adventure to tell this very personal and incredibly entertaining story of overcoming the all to common but little discussed fear so many Manhattanites have of driving. She demonstrates a particular gift for sketching characters, from the deeply mysterious driving instructor Attila to her own dichotomous personality- a Park Avenue PhD with equal parts anxiety and sophistication all packaged in a statuesque, couture-clad former model. Fine Collins dispenses with the naval gazing pablum that frequently plagues memoirs and instead offers up a clipped, engaging vignette that encourages and delights. She is an underrated humorist.

A fun read. Follow the author as she frees herself from fear and finds friendship with an unlikely prospect. Most important, you will gain insight into your own driving skills and appreciate the importance of safe driving. Parents spend a fortune on sports for their kids, but they'd be wiser to make sure their children learn to drive safely. This book has a light side - e.g., fashion tips for driving - but it has a serious message.

Amy Fine Collins puts a lot of herself in this wonderful book. It's beautifully written with great descriptions. Collins takes drivng to a whole new level in this fast-paced book. Everyone should read this book. I recommend this book to anyone with a driving phobia, to car lovers,and even to people who don't care much for cars. I also recommend it to any person who may learn something from the intelligent and magnificent Attila, Collins's driving teacher. Collins weaves an incredibly entertaining story that will make frightened drivers come out of their shells.

A delightful gift to pass along and recommend. As one of the 190 million Americans Collins cites who drives 2.6 times daily (aptitude smaptitude), I didn't expect to get sucked into Collins's story. But what a twist on escapism! Better than a hot mystery or historic fiction, Collins's beautiful life, as revealed throughout a few dozen fast-moving chapters, will lift you straight out of suburban realities, at least for a time. Her driving lessons are so many romantic adventures, and Collins's charming and mysterious instructor is sophisticated enough to appreciate her fantastic outfits and make-up. He even dresses the part himself. Together, experiencing various ultimate dream machines, they tool around New York City, and even journey to distant lands (not just New Jersey and Staten Island, but Germany, too). Collins's driving experiences, unlike those of us 190 million, are definitely book-worthy.

Word alchemist Amy Fine Collins weaves a spellbinding tale of self exploration as she takes to the road to conquer her long-standing fear of driving. In tandem with her charismatic and confident instructor, Collins strips away the layers of phobia by hitting them head-on in a fresh, honest, and completely unguarded way. Collins's virtuouso journalistic style turbocharges this riveting tale, which is ultimately a universal one of redemption and homecoming.