This was clearly slapped together in anticipation of a movie based on the original Vanity Fair story. To make it a full-length book, the author added a lot of sanctimony and pseudo-introspection. Example: instead of saying "Sofia Coppola's films have all treated the questions of fame and pathos, in different contexts" the author first reports ignorance of Coppola's work, spends a lot of time explaining said work, giving the Coppola's background, providing a ridiculously detailed description of the director and her family, and then says "I guess it makes sense that she'd want to option my Vanity Fair article." The book is bloated with inexpert and rambling musings on adolescent materialism and celebrities, making it much more about the author's opinions and reflections on The Bling Ring rather than, actually being ABOUT the Bling Ring. I had to go online and do my own reading to actually learn the story about what happened, since this book is mostly a hugely pedestrian account of how "kids these days" and "get off America's lawn you entitled brats" and blah blah blah.
She's a good narrator. There's not much she can do to save the book.
Nope. I got about halfway through and it became a tedious chore to get through the last half, I only gamely attempted it because I thought it might get interesting at the end. No such luck.
This is a subject that deserves a more well-told story; after the trials are over and the participants can become the actual subjects of a story about their crimes (this book is really more about Nancy Jo Sales' opinions on society and youth at large) someone will write a book about what happened which focuses at greater length on the social dynamics within the group itself and a more detailed view of the crime spree from the perspective of those who engaged in it. I am looking forward to the movie, because I'm certain that Coppola will do more justice to the texture and context of the story.
I think the book will be interesting - I'm looking forward to it. I would not under any circumstances get another book read by Erik Davies.
The reader (Erik Davies) reads... so... slowly... that... I... am... going... nuts. Plus, he has the truly snortworthy, eye-roll inducing habit of pronouncing "Paris" as "Pa-reeee" every time he says it, and he's reading this book in English. If you had a friend who went to Paris and insisted on referring to it as "Pa-reee" when telling you a story about her time there, what would you think of that? And if that was happening several times in every sentence? And if she was talking so slowly that you felt like making the "come on, come on" gesture at her? I mean, I've *lived* in Paris, been an actual ex-pat with a job and everything, and I do NOT call it "Pa-reee" when it comes up in conversation in English. Absolutely twee and pretentious. The level of tryhard on his french-fried pronunciation of any proper nouns reminds me of Garrison Keillor's hilarious maitre-d' at the Cafe Boeuf. Seriously awful and terribly jarring. Even French people pronounce "Paris" as "Pa-riss" when they are speaking English, just like I would call Chicago "Shee-CAH-go" if I said the name of the city while speaking French. Why switch in and out of essentially two languages the whole time, other than to be obnoxious and make yourself harder to understand? Ugh.
I hope to enjoy the book, but the performance was irredeemable.
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