Customer Reviews

Harold Robbins: The Man Who Invented Sex

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

 

 

The Man Who Invented Sex was an objective fact finding look at the life and lies of a very mysterious vulgar writer. It almost discouraged me from wanting to be a successful writer if that the price of success. However, I admired this man who wrote The Adventurer; a book I picked up to read on my flight to Vietnam. That one book turned me on to reading other books, besides science books. For years I didn't even remember who wrote the book. As famious as Robbins was to the world, I was clueless to who he was. It was such a delight to rediscover this author but sad at the same time to find out what a fool was behind his genus.

I believe Andrew Wilson did an unbias presentation of the facts about Harold's life.

It was confusing sometimes trying to maintain the timeline because some of the interviews were out of sequence with the story line. Overall it was well done.

Thanks Andrew for sharring it with me.

Randy Juge Author of To Nam and Back

Mandeville, La.

I am not quite sure why this book was written other than maybe for the money (after all that is why Robbins wrote) or because the author had some grudge against Robbins. The author lack any of Robbins flair and knack for storytelling whatsoever. The book is written in a way that makes the reader wonder why the author would devote so much time to a subject that he did not care for. If you are looking for a book that will paint maybe your favorite author in a poor light and maybe never like him or his books quite as much again, this is your book. The dust jackets (I have seen two) do envoke the Robbins style of the 70's. There are also a good selection of photos of Robbins over the years, somthing Jann Robbins book lacks at all. True Robbins fans will not care but I would still skip it. This is one of those "warts and all" books that make one wonder if there is not some embellishment taking place. Purchase at own risk, but don't say I didn't warn you.

Wilson hews to an explicitly stated premise, namely that Harold Robbins only wrote, or did anything else, for money, which is disproven by most facts Wilson relates. Robbins made so little from writing at first that he couldn't quit his day until after his fourth book -- and even that was a gamble. (How much of a gamble is unclear, since Wilson either doesn't know or doesn't tell us what Robbins' day job paid.) He was a devoted family man and friend who took months off to care for a friend who had cancer. He spent lavishly, often on friends, without ever seeming to keep track of money. He called writing "The most fun you can have by yourself except masturbating."

Yes, after he succumbed to drugs (originally taken to increase his writing output) he became crazy and demanding, and yes he was competitive. But to look at his bizarre and interesting life and see someone always looking out for a dime just seems strange, and maybe anti-Semitic. Wilson certainly doesn't back his argument with anything else.