Customer Reviews

Party Monster: A Fabulous But True Tale of Murder in Clubland

5 star:		(55)
4 star:		(20)
3 star:		(11)
2 star:		(5)
1 star:		(9)

 

 

Personally, in the early 90's I was enchanted with club kids, but would never let them in my apartment for fear that several somethings would turn up missing. James St. James' wonderful book lets me know I probably did the right thing. Although the story regularly digresses from Michael Alig and Robert Rigg's murder of Angel Melendez, he does so with purpose, and the book is an intriguing read. He shows how Alig transformed from an unwelcome wannabe to a creative force in New York's club scene to a heroin-addicted nightmare. Similarly, He explains Freeze's (Robert Rigg) three phases as well from a reticent but clever costume designer to a "well-respected" drug dealer to a practically homeless ball of anger. Instead of blaming it all on Michael's upbringing like most authors would, St. James finds that changes in the music, the scene and, most particularly, the drugs of trend led a lot of club kids, particularly Michael Alig, down a path of darkness.
Not that Michael was very nice to begin with. St. James relates that Michael's first "superstar" was Christina, an ugly drag queen. By foisting her on the club scene, he hoped to garner approval from everyone who enjoyed making fun of her.
Some have argued that both club kids and St. James' book are too self-absorbed to warrant any warm feelings. It is true. However the author makes himself very three dimensional, focusing on his foibles as well as his successes. And his moral conflict is depicted beautifully. On the one side Melendez, an acrid drug dealer (probably connected to a dangerous cartel) was hurting so many people that death didn't seem like a bad fate for him. (After all, St. James argues, no one arrested Dorothy even though she accumulated a body count of two wicked witches.) On the other hand, Melendez' murder was particularly brutal (a drano injection), and Michael's callous reaction was to go on a shopping spree with Angel's money.
The book sheds light on a fairly secretive world and shocks the reader. However, it is also, bizarrely, entertaining. For example, when James' is trying to come to terms with Angel's death he finds himself approaching dogs and saying "Hello, little doggie! Aren't you the sweetest thing? I bet you wouldn't ever inject anyone with drano, would you?"
Admittedly, I've been fascinated with this scene since the days of Project X magazine and films such as Paris is Burning, but even for the uninitiated, I suspect they'll find that this book is such a good read that it won't take them any longer to get through than would seeing the movie.

I waited a long time to read this book. Partly because it dredged up people and events I knew, and partly because the story was just too strange to be anything but real. Nobody would believe it. But it all happened.

I couldn't put this book down. Maybe that has to do with my being there, and knowing all the characters in this book. It was painful but also hysterically funny. I have to hand it to James. He did a good job recreating the mood of the times, which is a little odd to say, considering the subject matter.

While I thought James was as fair as possible about himself, and doesn't try to portray himself as anything but what he really was: A fabulous mess, he also tries (and mostly succeeds)walking a thin line with his portayal of Michael.I only wish James spent more pages exploring Michael,

Michael can be the sweetest person, but he has a very cruel, dark side, as those of us who know him have had a taste of at some time. While it's very hard to be sympathetic to Michael considering the horrendous and unexcusable thing he did to Angel, there's an undeniable charisma about him. It was Michael after all, who was the Pied Pier of New York's club scene. Everyone gravitated towards his circle, and we all know what happened to those who followed the Piper.

When I heard the story, long before it became public, I was shocked. But at the same time I said to myself: "that's Michael for you." I commend James, because it takes a certain amount of guts to say "I was Michael's best friend" (I don't think too many people are going to try and take that title away from him). James does a good job capturing a very fun, sick, twisted moment in New York's nightlife. Some people may be a little put off by the whole setting and players (there's a little bit of insider stuff, but even if you weren't there, it's not that off-putting.Though the subject matter is grusome at times, James balances it with enough dark humor and makes you laugh (out loud). Like the saying goes: if I didn't laugh I'd be crying. And it's true. As a survivor, his tale should really be looked at as a cautionary one. When we're young, we all think we're indestructable. To anyone who thinks that by breaking the rules as much as they were during that period, and who thinks there won't be any consequences, think again. A lot of people's lives were used like they were paper towels - disposable. It was very hedonistic. Very self-destructive. This was a game of "truth or dare," played out with such ferocious amorality it makes even ME wonder "was I dreaming? No. The stakes got higher and higher. It was impossible for anyone to have won.

Sex, Drugs, Disco. I'm sad that it took this particular tale for us to see that James has a way with a story. But then again, I'm happy James even lived to tell it at all

After finishing this novel about the drug fueled world of the club kids that James St. James describes with great detail I almost felt like I'd overdosed on his writing. A little past the half way mark his constant descriptions of their hedonistic world and the ever-changing group of so-called friends exhausted me. It was an interesting book at turns hilariously funny and yet depressingly melancholy. The lengths these kids took to be the center of attention and fill their lives with excitement was devasting. The backstabbing and bitter resentment of each other and the utter lack of any sort of real connection with others besides the surface was what saddened me the most.

This was quick read and James St. James has a wonderful sense of humor that I enjoyed reading despite some repetitiveness. I'd love to read more of his witticisms in a fiction novel someday.

Before reading the novel, I had originally previewed the "Party Monster: the Shockumentary." I had vaguely remembered Michael Alig and his club kids from a few television talk shows, which only made me want to read more, and learn more about the story and the lives which they all lead.

After much searching, (trust me, being from a mostly Catholic town in Iowa, there was a lot of searching) I finally found it, and brought it home to see if it would live up to my high expectations.

What I found surprised me, though I won't say entirely shocked me, and I found myself laughing out loud throughout the entire novel.

St. James not only paints such a vivid portrayal of what he lived through, but somehow manages to find humor within it. I couldn't help but stop my boyfriend from what he was doing to dish out the part involving Christmas lights through immense giggles.

He recollects and dishes out what many drug addicts and ex-drug addicts wouldn't admit to, including the large amount of nothing he had accomplished trying to become a writer while being continuously purged into a K-hole.

I don't want to talk too much about what St. James discusses in the novel, as I don't want to give some of the finer points away for anyone who cares to read it, but I must say it is a MUST READ for anyone who enjoys a little bit of comedy mixed into the horrific murder story of Michael Alig and Angel Melendez.

This book not only met my expectations, but it greatly exceeded them. I'm now buying the nonfiction novel written by Frank (who is mentioned as well in "Disco Bloodbath") to learn more about the times when the Club Kids were all the rage.

(I would just like to briefly add that many people think James St. James is profitting off of Michael Alig's story. Though much of the novel discusses James by himself, his emotions, and how he felt about things, and him recalling his own witnessings before Michael had even arrived in New York. Towards the end of the novel, you must read the "Letter to Michael" in which it also states of one of the last times he spoke to Alig, in which he states that he is writing the book because it "really, really upset him." After all, isn't that what many journals are about?)

Having recently seen the documentary 'Party Monster', I just HAD to read "Disco Bloodbath." Most real clubbers, including me, just dont have the education or vocabulary to write a book accurately describing their experiences. But luckily James ST James still has a mind left along with incredible experiences. I rarely laugh at anything anymore, being the critic that I am, but he retells it all with such wit, I sometimes wonder where he gets it all from. Michael Alig seems all too absurd. You wonder if he really is human. But James never demonizes anyone; he lets you do that yourself. WARNING: If you have never done a drug more than once and are deathly afraid of drag-queens, dont bother reading this, you JUST WONT GET IT; The people benefiting the most from this will be the true club kids, the queers (we just love this kind of stuff)and of course the all-knowing K-HEAD (You know who you are).

Party Monster, by James St. James

K, E, H, D? and coke are taken and talked about like vitamins in this high speed tale of clubland adventures. James St. James even jokes about cutting the coke with B12 as a supplement. Reading about this 10 year drugging and clubbing whirlwind from the perspective of a moody drag-queen is absolutely hilarious.

Birdcage is one of my favorite movies because I get such a kick out of male flamboyant feminineness, and in Party Monster you have nothing but flamboyant feminine escapade after escapade. You would honestly think this was a work of fiction the way James St. James describes the 3,4,5 and even 7 day binges and the quantities of drugs consumed. The K-Hole diaries are classic, what a genius idea. The twisted sense of reality that these party monsters lived in is mind boggling. The murder of Angel is a real waste of drugland potential. I mean his popularity was growing with his sales as Michael Alig paraded him around became his buddy so he could do his drugs and borrow his money.

You get a real sense of the darker, wilder and freaky side of the NYC club scene from the late 80's to the mid to late 90's. I remember the early days of the Tunnel and Limelight being a bit too strange for me at the time, but that is what this crowd lived and died for. They really strategize about the scene and how to increase its popularity and be seen and mentioned by the press.

The nick names are great: Cookie Puss, Peter Peter the boyfriend stealer, Freeze and Jennytalia and the theme parties are a rip.

Ohhhh James St. James, please write another book!


By Kevin Kingston, author of: A 20,000% Gain in Real Estate


My Blog:
http://www.bloglines.com/blog/KevinKingston

This is one of the many books which is best enjoyed if you're able to dedicate a good block of time to it and just sit back and dive in. The drama is all in the language and James St James knows it.

He uses all the cues and tricks of writing to excess (ALL CAPS, italics for those naughty phrases you just have to lean in for, bold passages for "can you believe it" statements, and constantly hitting the return key to ensure that well planned break in the story where you wait just long enough to make sure everyone is hanging onto your every word and will sell their mothers out to hear how it all ends) and for some reason it works instead of becoming the obnoxious mess it should have been. You can actually hear James St James in this book, as if he's squeazing tight into the bar booth with you and telling you the whole thing over a cocktail, spilling most of it on himself AND YOU in the process... but you can't leave...

You have to hear it all, by God. So be prepared to read it all and quick. If you can read it one sitting all the better, or two or three days if you must... but don't drag it out or try to balance it with a few other paperbacks you're halfway through. This is GOSSIP. And you might as well accept the charges and get settled in for a wildly entertaining, vivid, dishonestly honest tale of one club creature's scattered memories of his years as a New York City celebutante.

P.S. Although this book claims to be mainly centered on Michael Alig and the murder of his drug dealer, it's not 100% anywhere or on anyone. So don't expect a fair or even picture to be painted of Alig, for as James St James explains at the very beginning NEVER, EVER DISH ANYONE IN PRINT. And if you simply must, there's just no way out of it... well, the entire book is sort of a portrait of this very predicament. A little love to coat a lot of hate, or is it the other way around?

I certainly entered a world in which I've never been when I opened "Disco Bloodbath." I was drawn to this book after I saw a documentary on the "club kid" murder of Angel Melendez by flamboyent club promoter Michael Alig. Although the title of the book implies that it is a typical true crime book that thoroughly covers the murder and aftermath, it is actually a look at the club kid lifestyle and all the drugs and Max Factor that went with it.

Former club kid and "celebutante" James St. James gives the reader a disturbing look at life as a K junkie and (in Alig's case) heroine fiend. Whether it be tearing up floor boards for
lost drugs (of course, it must have fallen into the floor boards!) or Alig asking James if he could stitch up an artery as Alig (desperate without a needle) planned to slash open his wrist in order to push his heroine into his vein, James' account is quite revealing. Except for the introduction and the last few chapters (which, to me, seemed a bit rushed) the murder seems to take a back seat to the everyday drug-infested mess of the club kid scene. Sometimes, I found it difficult to follow due to the many characters who are introduced (although, I imagine there are many more people James could have included in his account). Photos would have been a welcomed addition, but I understand why the author did not include any. Some information is missing (i.e. how Alig was finally arrested and Alig's official confession--the confession of partner-in-crime Freeze is included). The lesson James learns from his experience is that "you CAN'T just make up your own rules. And you CAN'T just live in your own little world." ......OK.

Still, this book is a must have for those (like myself) who found themselves fascinated by the club kid murder. It's a wonder James was able to remember those days so clearly and was able to survive with his brain and sense of morality intact to write his account. I have a feeling Alig will be writing his own account and, once out of prison, will be making movies somewhere. That's justice for you.

I can't say that this true crime story wasn't fresh or interesting; hell, I read it in one sitting. St. James has a clever and sardonic style of writing that grabs the reader by the throat and then he doesn't let go.

But reading about the characters and their "lifestyle" only confirms my worst suspicions about the shallowness of individuals seeking fame amongst the "beautiful people." Therefore, I was very indifferent to the angst that most of these pathetic people felt as they tried to outdo each other to Club Land stardom.

In the end analysis, St. James' book is yet another in a long line of works capturing the empty, restless, phony world of social climbing. It's no different than "The Great Gatsby," just creepier and more graphic.

This book surprises me because, being so anxious to read it and so much time passing before I finally got a copy, I figured I'd read it in one sitting. Turns out, over a month has passed and I'm still reading a few pages at a time just before falling to sleep in bed, somtimes being startled awake when it falls into my face.
James St. James doesn't write at all as he came off in his televised interviews. He writes with an obvious self-consciousness that works in his favor.
At times, it seems he can't decide if the book is a biography, a description of the Club Kid scene, Michael Alig, or a murder. But again, this somehow works. Sometimes he falls into writing in his Club Kid persona and seems almost apologetic for having a conscience and moral compass.
In the end, I am truly enjoying this book and will miss it as a sleeping aid when I read the last few pages tonight.
I hope his uncertainty continues to shine through in his next non-fiction book.