The author of "The Unkindest Cut", whose popular column appears weekly in "TV Guide", sets off in search of the Holy Grail of Horridness--and encounters some surprisingly non-terrible phenomena--in this riotously funny, razor-sharp indictment of our cultural wasteland.
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Editorial Reviews
Amazon.com Review
"How bad could it be?" With this simple question, Joe Queenan embarks on a nightmare journey through the depths of American pop culture, subjecting himself to Broadway musicals, Red Lobster Captains' Feasts, and John Tesh concerts: "With his shopworn, lounge-lizard stage gestures, eviscerated salsa compositions, and studied reveries, Tesh was a human Cuisinart of every hack musical stunt, effecting a strange synthesis of various mongrel styles where half the songs sounded like generic background music for promotional videos ... and the other half sounded like retreads of Mason Williams's sixties hit Classical Gas."
Queenan sets out to find music, movies, books, and TV that transcend awful, and the most remarkable thing about this book is that one never doubts for a moment that he actually subjected himself to all of the horrors he describes (including the literary efforts of Joan Collins). In an era where references to Burt Reynolds movies are used as hipster currency by people who have never endured Cannonball Run II, Queenan mocks nothing without experiencing it first. His odyssey throws up a few surprises--including the discovery that Barry Manilow is actually pretty good, and that most of the junk that clogs the arteries of popular culture never reaches the stratospheric level of badness achieved by someone like Michael Bolton. This leads Queenan to coin the term scheissenbedauern ("shit regret") to describe "the disappointment one feels when exposed to something that is not nearly as bad as one hoped it would be."
But generally, the answer to the question posed at the beginning of the book is "Really, really bad." Making fun of bad middlebrow entertainment may seem like a no-brainer, but when a writer as sharp as Queenan gets his claws into something like the collected works of Billy Joel, the results are hilarious. Like Jonathan Swift with a remote control, he gleefully shoots every fish in the pop-culture barrel. --Simon Leake
From Publishers Weekly
"I was beginning to suspect that snobs like me were cutting ourselves off from all the sun in this society, that in our obsession with books by Umberto Eco and concerts by the Kronos Quartet, we had deprived ourselves of the boundless joy to be derived from a quiet evening with Yanni." Thus does Queenan explain the impetus for his hilarious venting of spleen here against American mass culture. The TV Guide columnist and author of If You're Talking to Me, Your Career Must Be in Trouble sallies forth to skewer many popular icons. Among them are the musical Cats ("I was not a complete stranger to the fiendishly vapid world of Andrew Lloyd Webber"), Robert James Waller ("No one will ever write a book worse than Border Music. The government wouldn't allow it"), John Tesh ("almost supernaturally vacant"), Joan Collins ("a thrillingly inept writer"), the Olive Garden restaurant chain (colorful wording on the menu transforms a "repellent morass into a truly wondrous zuppa toscana") and the home of aging performers, Branson, Mo. ("a Bayreuth for Bozos"). Cynics in general and fans of Queenan in particular will find many pleasures in this wonderfully comic diatribe. Editor, Jennifer Barth; agent, Joe Vallely. British rights sold to Picador; author tour.
Copyright 1998 Reed Business Information, Inc.
Copyright 1998 Reed Business Information, Inc.
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Most Helpful Customer Reviews
16 of 18 people found the following review helpful:
5.0 out of 5 stars
Bravo to those who speak what others fear to say!,
By The Dreaded 32 Fouettes (West Hollywood, CA USA) - See all my reviews
This review is from: Red Lobster White Trash and the Blue Lagoon: Joe Queenan's America (Hardcover)
It takes someone with balls to come out against musicals like 'Cats' and 'Phantom'. Three cheers for supercynic Joe Queenan who has those guts, and plenty to spare, as his poisoned pen appropriately lashes out at the worst of the mediocre, making for the best reflection on the last century I have heard of or could have even imagined. I was in tears numerous times laughing and relishing numerous Queenan insights, most of which offered me solace that my own pecular, singular, and admittedly UNpopular personal taste isn't at all unwarranted. This book is the truth spoken by one who voices the feelings of many who might(as myself) run the risk of excommunication for voicing opinions contrary to those of a highly defensive public. True, Queenan does peck off the so-called 'talents' of easy targets like musicians John Tesh and Kenny G, author Robert James Waller, and car-accident-of-a-TV-talk-show-host Geraldo Rivera. But there are hidden whoppers of philosophical revelation between the covers of this light reader as well which are sure to delight anyone who grew up thinking for themselves. If you, like me, have always had a problem being subjected to the folks in our society who walk around preening and gushing about having seen the latest Andrew Lloyd Weber extravaganza, buy this book NOW! After I read it I felt a hundred times better for having risked public humiliation in voicing my severe dislike of the film 'Titanic' (utter blasphemy to DeCaprio fans let alone anyone in Hollywood who has sold out his/her integrity to the machine that makes such monstrosities). Queenan ingeniously relates his own corruption-by-self-exposure to a Jekyll/Hyde tragedy. As he is absorbed into this world of trash and cultural squalor he can only want more. And his excursions as Hyde can be called nothing less than deliciously decadent. I'd happily toast Queenan with one of his very own "Suck Cocktails" for this hilarious effort. WARNING: Anyone offended by this book should calm down and try to realize the simple truth that just because something is popular doesn't EVER mean it is actually Any Good.
11 of 13 people found the following review helpful:
1.0 out of 5 stars
The Hatchet Man Cometh,
By A Customer
This review is from: Red Lobster White Trash and the Blue Lagoon: Joe Queenan's America (Hardcover)
About two years ago Joe Queenan appeared on the Conan O'Brien show and in a hilarious monologue plugged a forthcoming book about his tour through the worst of popular culture. Unfortunately, this book is a letdown despite a great premise and a few funny moments. Its thinness suggests that Queenan tried to stretch out a magazine article to book-length, quitting once he reached 200 pages. Even at that length there are dumb errors, such as his comment that in "Halloween V" even Jason seems tired of being Jason. The killer of the "Halloween" series is Michael, while Jason is from "Friday the 13th". Sloppy. Queenan's shotgun approach, which explores some subjects in depth but only touches upon others, undermines the book. For example, in the chapter on bad novels, he says that Patricia Cornwell is good for a few "howlers" per book. This implies that he has read at least one Cornwell novel, but does he tell us what these "howlers" are? Does he quote from her books or summarize her plots to prove that she is a bad writer? No, he just moves on to his next victim. If he can do a multi-paragraph dissection of "Flowers in the Attic" (one of the funnier parts of the book), surely he can do better for Cornwell than this hit and run. Other times he is irritatingly vague. He says that bad writers use highbrow quotes as epigraphs to class up their books, and cites Stephen King's use of a Goya quote in "The Shining". But does he consider King a bad writer? We never find out, because Queenan's too busy mocking King's blurb production to bother with the man's novels. (Incidentally, the cover of Queenan's book has blurbs from respected humorists. Is he the only blurb-worthy writer in the universe?) When it comes to horror fiction, it's unclear if Queenan read any further than the cover blurbs. He groups the plots of the entire genre into broad categories that don't resemble anything currently available in the field. Like all genre fiction, horror attracts its share of hacks, but it isn't all just "creepy monsters in the basement" either. In using such an absurdly broad brush, Queenan tries to be ironic but merely sounds uninformed. For much of the book, Queenan plays it safe, as when he attacks John Tesh, "Cats", and Kenny G. Even after admitting that everyone in the know regards Tesh's music as bilge, Queenan brings nothing new to the table. Without spending a dime you can watch Jay Leno trash Tesh and Kenny G, so why pay for more of the same? And why does he exhume the cinematic corpses of "The Breakfast Club" and "St. Elmo's Fire"? Not only are these films yesterday's news, they're last decade's news. His commentary isn't even funny; it feels phoned in. For a truly funny take on 80's and early 90's culture, I recommend "Generation ECCH!" by Jason Cohen and Michael Krugman. It's everything Queenan's book tries to be. The book is at its best when Queenan breaks new ground. Here his narrative becomes more energetic and less perfunctory. His critiques of "Flowers in the Attic", David Cassidy's Vegas show, and Joan Collins' novel are funny and insightful. These segments work because Queenan isn't merely echoing sentiments that you can hear on any late night talk show. He shines a flashlight on areas of culture you might not have seen before. The book could have used more of this. Another flaw is the tone. Queenan tries to be ironic and edgy, but instead sounds snotty and irritable. An example is his comment that James Michener's audience has to move its lips while reading his books. He tries to excuse his attitude by describing himself as an "elitist." But as he repeatedly cites his credentials (he speaks French, he listens to Elvis Costello, he watches Belgian movies), it sounds as if he is protesting too much. He can't seem to reconcile his highbrow tastes with his enjoyment of a Ken Follett novel or a meal at the Sizzler. Instead of enjoying these experiences on their own level, he condescendingly tells us that they weren't as bad as he had expected. Nor can he accept the fact that not everybody shares his tastes; consequently, when he has a bad time at Red Lobster or Atlantic City, he criticizes the consumers of trashy culture rather than the purveyors. The book could have used a little insight as to why people choose low- and middlebrow entertainment. Queenan has the tools to do this -see his reviews for The American Spectator, or his book "If You're Talking to Me, Your Career Must Be in Trouble." But instead he plays it safe - again. Joe Queenan once referred to himself as a "hatchet man" critic. This book would have been much better if he had left his hatchet home and used a scalpel.
6 of 7 people found the following review helpful:
3.0 out of 5 stars
Funny but overstays its welcome,
By
This review is from: Red Lobster White Trash and the Blue Lagoon: Joe Queenan's America (Hardcover)
When I first read Joe Queenan, I thought he was about the funniest writer on the planet. He is still very funny and very talented, but his shtick can get just a bit old, and fast.This book started as an article, and if you can, I would track that article down and save yourself the money and the time it takes to read this very slim yet somehow plodding hatchet job on anything popular for Middle America. This subject was stinging and hilarious as an article, running the perfect length and not overstaying its venomous welcome. But as the book drags on, Queenan is so relentless with his targets that the reader feels a backlash coming. Sometimes it seems like the mere mention of "Tony Orlando" or "Phil Collins" is supposed to be enough to make you laugh and understand how disgruntled Queenan is. And simply the word "suck" is used and used again to describe everything Queenan doesn't like. Okay, Joe, we get it. It's a bit tired to read page after page of insulting "middle American huckleberries", etc. I guess if people are not as fortunate, intelligent, or rich as Queenan, they're more or less despicable cretins to be mocked by the admitted "cultural effete". Another problem is that many of Queenan's references are either already outdated or beyond obvious. The entertainment industry does the job for him when cheap targets like Steve Guttenberg or Joe Piscopo are chewed up and spit out by the industry itself once it has no use for them. The vast majority of figures like this really do wind up just going away, and why? Because the audiences--the middle Americans Queenan loves ripping to make himself sound smarter--disgard their product. Queenan's biggest problem is with crap that poses as art, and he even admits that certain cheese is not so bad, as long as it's aware that it's cheese (as he discovers that Manilow is a good entertainer, if a cheeseball). However, I did find it a bit nauseating when our intrepid author, who has immersed himself in popular culture and become addicted, needs to take a trip to France to cleanse himself and rediscover real beauty and culture. Can you say vomit? It's very, very funny at times, and the index is hilarious. I wouldn't pay much for this book again; you may be able to track his rants down online.
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