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by Toby Young
In a word (or two or three): what? skewering the publshing industry--i'm
in.
From Mr. Hipster:
This is the most apropos title for a book
I've ever seen. It explains exactly what happens to our protagonist,
Toby Young, as he tries to make his way through the world that is
America and Condé Nast. I devoured every page wondering what wacky,
self-destructive, purely idiotic thing Mr. Young was going to do next.
He was the most clueless character I'd ever seen. The ineptitude,
the crassness, the alcoholism, the puerile drivel that flowed from
his mouth on a daily basis... How could anybody be so clueless about
how things work? While Mr. Young had created a thoroughly entertaining
and memorable character, I thought over and over again how it was
funny, but ultimately unbelievable. Then I remembered that this was
a true story. This happened to me every five pages or so. Every time
he did something like hiring a stripper for a colleague's birthday
at Vanity Fair on bring your daughter to work day, or starting
snorting lines of coke in the middle of a photo shoot for the magazine,
I just shook my head in disbelief. Anybody that has ever worked in
magazine publishing, or dealt with the hideous, trust fund fahsionistas
that dominate the industry will absolutely get a kick out of this
book. Anybody that has seriously fucked his or her career by doing
something really fuckin' stupid will love it as well. Toby Young says
and does all the things we wish we could have. He does all the things
we are afraid to do. He is the crash test dummy for all of us white
collar assholes who thought going to college, coming in on time and
performing to the best of our abilities might actually entitle us
to some loyalty from our employers. Now we know we could have screwed
off every day, drank until our uvulas fell out and the end result
would have been exactly the same--without the rich book contract,
of course.
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