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The
Warren Adler E-Sheet 28
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The Last Rant of Summer
Call it
sour grapes, but I am appalled by the cozy
self-promoting clique of TV pundits
currently flacking their books on the tube,
patting each other on the back as if their
words ring with superior insight and
immortal literary achievement.
Both the
publishers and the pundits have struck the
mother lode. The pundits use their high
salaried air-time to exchange back-slapping
kudos with each other much to the delight of
the publishers who get their sure-thing
promotional clout without having to lift a
finger. The cross pollinization gets the
books on best seller lists and lines the
pockets of the pundits and the publishers
with lots of extra cash.
O'Riley,
Russert, Saphire, Hannity,
Combs, Friedman,
Brokaw, Dow, Brooks….the list is endless.
Most of these tomes are rehashes of what we
have been treated to in their columns,
essays and talking head appearances. One
wonders if they can really be called books,
once a sacred name for a gloriously
insightful private experience. They are more
like promotional brochures, mostly, with
some exceptions, a recycling of the same
material we get in their columns, television
and radio appearances. Are we Americans that
hungry for more of the same or does it make
us comfortable to hear others reiterate our
personal political views?
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"no one ever went broke
underestimating the taste
of the American public."
- H.L. Menken |
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I keep
asking myself why people would care enough
about Tom Russert's relationship with his
Dad to purchase his memoir, not that it
wasn't heartfelt and sincere. Many of us
have had inspirational working class
fathers. Big deal. Its akin to John Edwards
talking about his father being a mill
worker, as if there was something
dishonorable in being a mill worker. Sounds
to me Edward's Dad spent his life in honest
labor for which the son should be proud
instead of citing the father for the sin of
what he makes sound like financial and
intellectual failure. No political bias
intended. All the candidates could be
targets of ridicule if that were my
intention, but the mill worker reference
gets in my craw.
I know. I
know. I'm getting to be a curmudgeon and I
admit to being jealous as hell of the
promotional opportunities of these high
priced pundits to get their books promoted
on the tube while the rest of us scribblers
have to scratch and beg for ten seconds of
air time.
While I'm
on a tear, let me direct your attention to
the so called three other offensive book
publishing genres, the Payback, the
My
Side and the Close Observer genre.
In the
payback book, the writer, usually a former
something or other in the government is able
to excoriate his former bosses because they
didn't take his or her brilliant advice and,
therefore, in his or her view, made a mess
of things. If the issue is big enough, like
terrorism or the economy, and the writer had
a key job in that area, the publishing
advance and TV coverage is extensive and
lucrative for all concerned. There have been
numerous examples recently. The books come
and go with assembly line frequency, then
disappear into the dust bin. Names have been
withheld to protect the guilty.
A glaring
example of the Payback genre is the book
questioning the medals earned by a certain
presidential candidate. This is a "payback"
that has gone on for decades. Whatever the
truth of the matter it is certainly a prime
example of the genre. And it has sold books.
Then there
is the My Side genre. This is a book
usually ghost written for a lady who has had
a sexual interlude with a prominent
politician/celebrity and has been cast aside
for reasons of career expediency. Need I
provide the ultimate example? Think of all
the potboilers in the hopper regarding the
various players in the Kobe Bryant and Scott
Peterson horrors.
The Close
Observer genre is another example of how
hooking on to a celebrity, usually one in
trouble, can move books off the shelves.
Remember the O. J. book industry. It's last
gasp was a book allegedly written by one of
his more recent girlfriends that received a
humungous advance, but just missed the hype
and went down in flames, along with those
who promoted the advance. This genre is
usually produced by ex-lovers, ex-wives or
ex-husbands, relatives, business partners or
agents. Boatloads of books should be
forthcoming soon featuring
Michael Jackson, Martha Stewart and, without
doubt (ugh) the Hilton airheads.
What this
tells us is that the tabloid supermarket
rags have morphed into the book publishing
industry. I suppose it tells us, too, that
this material "sells" and, as we have been
taught, anything that sells well is
therefore a good thing. Publishers will tell
us it is the tent pole principle meaning
that the larger and higher the reading tent,
the more people will be encouraged to come
inside and read other books, reminding me of
the famous H.L. Mencken quotation which
stated that "no one ever went broke
underestimating the taste of the American
public."
Andy Warhol
may have had it right. It was he who said
that everyone might soon have their fifteen
minutes of fame. The competition for those
fifteen minutes is intense, hysterical,
punishing and, in the end, meaningless.
Perhaps ten minutes, or even five might
suffice considering the swiftly declining
length of the public memory.
If one
notes a bit of cynicism and disillusion
about the current state of American culture
leaking into this e-sheet, I guess they
can't be faulted. Its been a long ugly
summer. But then, I guess the programmers
and advertisers who back the various
offerings of our boob tube culture might be
right on target . . . which definitely does
not include me and most of the people with
whom I associate.
None of us
would be caught dead watching the bankrupt
Donald Trump humiliate his young and foolish
wannabes as if he held the holy grail of
human management skills. In dear Donald we
find the opposite end of the Edward's
conundrum. Donald was a silver spoon boy
whose father was a successful home builder
and rich before Donald was born. It is
ironic that he gets highly paid putting
people through hoops as if he, too, had to
work in this manner to get started in
business. Indeed, the wretched and infantile
reality shows seem to me a new low in
television content, if that's possible.
I've
decided to get all my grousing and ranting
done before the summer is over. After all,
think of the good things we have in store
for the fall, a bruising, nasty, mean-minded
election campaign, the violent, ruthless and
unruly mob that is the emerging democracy of
Iraq, more fearsome alerts about possible
suicide bombers, lurking nukes and
bio-terrorism and gas prices going through
the roof. But me complain? Hell, I'm an
optimist.
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