Dandy in the Underworld: An Unauthorized Autobiography by Sebastian Horsley
My rating: 3/5 cats
when i was little i fell in love with john malkovich in dangerous liaisons.
i knew that when i grew up i wanted to be with a man who wore crushed velvet and lace cuffs and fancy shoes and was well-spoken and soulless. and they told me i would never find a straight man who dressed like that. and to all of them i now say HA!! this one is mostly straight…i did not realize that a man who calls himself a dandy and wears sequins and nail polish would spend quite so much time with his own feces: smearing, eating, prying out with a spoon…this book is not exclusively about poop, but i think the point is important: fancy boys can still have the most squalid of squalor going on behind closed doors. of his plagiarism i am not going to complain—he unabashedly and gleefully calls attention to it himself. he’s like this gaudy magpie who writes almost entirely in epigrams; it is hyperbolic and indulgent and overwrought and overwritten and purple purple purple… but somehow it works. it’s a romping sort of book that is wholly superficial but entirely in keeping with his personality. it’s a fun read that doesn’t really go anywhere or do anything…like its author. but there’s sex and drugs and crucifixion, and some unexpectedly touching bits at the end. and poop. did i mention poop?
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