The Pleasure of My Company was not a pleasure
Written on the original Movable Type site and recovered from the Internet Archive.
Just finished Steve Martin’s new book, The Pleasure of My Company: <iframe src=“http://rcm.amazon.com/e/cm?t=martinandalex-20&o=1&p=8&l=as1&asins=0786869216&fc1=000000&=1&lc1=0000ff&bc1=000000&lt1=_blank&IS2=1&f=ifr&bg1=ffffff&f=ifr” <br=“”>width=“120”
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Short review: Self involved insipid tripe.
Longer review: I have been a long time Steve Martin fan. I remember listening to Lets Get Small <iframe src=“http://rcm.amazon.com/e/cm?t=martinandalex-20&o=1&p=6&l=as1&asins=B000002MSY&fc1=000000&=1&lc1=0000ff&bc1=000000&lt1=_blank&f=ifr&bg1=ffffff&noImg=1&f=ifr” <br=“”>width=“120”
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on my Sony Cassette walkman as I delivered papers in highschool. Watching Steve on Saturday Night live as a “wild and crazy guy” was a rare treat when the parents stayed out late. The first of his novel’s I read was Shop Girl <iframe src=“http://rcm.amazon.com/e/cm?t=martinandalex-20&o=1&p=6&l=as1&asins=0786866586&fc1=000000&=1&lc1=0000ff&bc1=000000&lt1=_blank&f=ifr&bg1=ffffff&noImg=1&f=ifr” <br=“”> width=“120”
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. I am confident enough in my masculinity to say that I liked the book. It was a good beach read. Nice and light and breazy. So a couple of weeks ago on my way to LA I picked up his new one expecting something similar. What I got was an obsessive rambling disorganized diatribe of useless banter with no point. I bailed out after about 60 pages and never even finished it. Don’t waste your time. Come on Steve, give us another one.
One of five on the Martin scale.