Crude, tasteless, unfunny ( )

This satirical story was laugh out loud funny. Some of the best contemporary writers in America are dying under extremely suspicious circumstances and Tabitha King has disappeared. Stephen King, concerned that his wife has finally seen the light and realized that she made a mistake marrying him sets out to find her. And, since he is suffering from writer’s block on a plot for his next book decides to solve the mystery of the writers deaths along the way. What totally amazed me about this book was how the author captured the personalities of the authors … whether correctly or incorrectly I do not know … but certainly fitting with their public personas. ( )

The audio reading (Arte Johnson) must have enhanced the humour. Brilliantly inventive story. It'll knock your socks off. If this is what genre mystery books are like I've been missing a lot. But I'm certain it is one of a kind. Loved it. Try to get the audio version. ( )

Maybe I just don't "get" it, like when I read On the Road by Jack Kerouac and found myself wishing I had a magazine or something more brainless to give my attention to. It's a satire, I know, but it's only funny in some parts, and ends up being more like a ridiculous dream of some kind, something the author pieced together based on dizzy moments and old movies, videos teaching monkeys sign language, and a bad review that causes Curtis Sittenfield (Prep) to be obsessed with her navel.

I'm going to spoil it, so you may not want to read on.

It started out brilliantly with Sue Grafton's awful diarrhea on the (Agatha Christie's?) Orient Express, her "date" with Steve Martin (yes, Steve Martin), an unfortunate chocolate cake, and a later death. She's writing a new series starting with AA is for Aardvark and at a point where she doesn't even know what's going on in her life. She's sex-obsessed yet still vaguely in love with her husband, and as Martin sends her away he tells her it's exactly what she's wanted. That's right! You wouldn't have guessed it, but Steve Martin is a killer. Grafton hated everything about herself that we all hate about her and her unending series of books (T for Trespass just came out recently), how ridiculous it all is. Richard asked if she died by consuming poisonous alphabet soup and I decided it would have been much better that way, but she kept blaming it on the mussels.

Stephen King is a paranoid rat, no really, he has bars on his windows and accidentally sets off his own alarm system. I hate him already. He's obsessed with his writing (and apparently his name), he drove away his family for seclusion and impotence, and he thinks that he can solve the mysterious murder of Sue Grafton. "G is for Grief," he tells the reporter who asks for a eulogy on the author and then requests that at the end of his short praise of her writing: the blurb should include his recent awards and something about how much better he is than John Updike. He still has a strong emotional devotion to his estranged wife Tabitha, and I guess this "humanizes" him even though he's still portrayed as a jerk author who cares about nothing other than his own problems.

Danielle Steel is a bitch; there's no other way to put it. Curtis Sittenfield is spending time with her for some kind of author special column in one publication or another, and she hates the woman, but don't we all? Steel is illustrated exactly the way you'd imagine her: Arrogant, lacking elegance (but trying so hard), rude, dumb, oh - did I mention? She doesn't write her own books. Seeing Danielle Steel in such an important and moving role as the bitch who rules over all crappy fiction made me wonder why Nora Roberts was left out. She also publishes 50 books a year including her 47 reprints.

Curtis Sittenfield wants nothing more than praise for her known brilliance because she, like Tom Clancy, knows she's unique and spectacular in a way that reviewers really can't comprehend. Her next book is going to blow everyone out of the water, and they'll feel sorry for the bad reviews of Prep. However, she spends the majority of the time before her death (she and Steel were dropped in a chemical pool leaving only skeletons) mulling over a bad review, crying, admiring herself in a bathroom mirror, and generally ignoring her interviewees.

Tom Clancy was probably my favorite, because he was the most likable character. Yes, he was as sure of himself as Sittenfield was - his next novel would have the President himself calling his home line with job offers - and he was an incomprehensive douche - leaving bad Amazon feedback on any of John le Carre's novels which, presumably, he hadn't even read; he was also, however, a little boy with toys. He received a threatening phone call and immediately geared up (after the raunchy sex scene involving Ann Coulter, of course) with illegal weapons, brute strength, and cheap walkie talkies. His eventual death was a mere mention but his ambitions reminded me less of a conceited asshole and more of a truly fanatical 12 year old boy.

This is all leading up to something spectacular, you'd think. All the "great writers" are gone (except Nora Roberts) and we no longer have to endure any of their crappy written-in-an-afternoon releases! My hope was that even though Stephen King was determined to solve the mystery murders, he'd end up dead, and life would go back to normal. What? Stephen King isn't going to release another TNT special? Do I care?

It had a "plot twist" which was just ridiculously awful. I can't explain the terribleness of this disappointment. I had such high expectations and high hopes - so much could have been done with the idea of killing off these writers.... So much.

So there's this linguist guy and his monster brother who has the head of a lizard and the body of a human, mostly. The linguist apparently fakes the deaths of the writers promising them eternal paradise without publishers, agents, annoying fans, and most importantly, without the obligation to write (unless they want to, in which case they would publish "posthumously," sort of like how Capote does). Instead of going to the island to live happily ever after, these writers are finding themselves trapped in boxes. They can no longer write anything at all. The motivation?

The monster brother (Gori, apparently) doesn't comprehend words. It's a Hellen Keller story, really. When he was a child he understood "water" (or "wahwah" as it were) but since then has been an inconceivable oaf when it came to reading and speaking. Someone's trying to teach him sign language (the famous name escapes me) but it's not working out, so the linguist (the "sensible" one) is capturing all the "great writers" so that they can no longer produce books and thus no longer make Gori feel like an idiot.

This isn't even the worst of it. Homeland security breaks in and there's a battle with lasers and basically Stephen King saves the day by killing Steve Martin (who, apparently, had such motivation for supporting this scheme because someone offered for him to film "Cheaper by the Dozen III," and this somehow insulted his intelligence). Miraculously, Gori the monster brother understands words. It starts with "water," of course, and goes on to "ground" and "book" and "words" and all sorts of other things. Linguist is dead, but monster boy comprehends language, so it doesn't matter.

It ends with these writers and famous folk who have faked their deaths to live on this paradise island. They're having dinner and giving a toast more or less to each other's ability to survive, apologizing for all the things each might have done to contribute to the devastation, and so on. Gori perks up and signs something to the effect of: "No, no, guys, it's really my fault. It was my jealousy that caused all of this." Everyone tears up and lives happily ever after on the island.

What?

None of them are dead (drat), they're publishing posthumously, and living in peace with the monster who brought them there. Sue Grafton still has diarrhea. Oh, and Madame Bovary (as a book, not necessarily a character) plays some kind of pivotal role in this book because it's mentioned by nearly every character and more or less saves Stephen King's life. I've never read it, which is why I can't comment, but an interesting thing to consider if you saw some similarities.

I recommend the first 3-4 chapters of this book. After that, it's not worth it. ( )