I love a good autobiography, and will read them by just about anyone so long as they're interesting and well-written; but the life of Time's art critic Robert Hughes is one I can do without a slice of. Trees were ground into pulp in order that he may proffer readers a taste of the bitter slurry of hatred he feels towards a slutty first wife and the ignorant louts who caused him so much aggravation after he hit them while he was driving on the wrong side of the road.
Thanks, but no thanks.
I'd rather read about the continuing adventures of Andrew Sullivan's halo.
They aren't just adventures; they're life lessons. They should probably be read as a devotion over the dinner table and discussed with the family.
Posted by: marc at September 25, 2006 04:20 PMThey should be used as homilies in pulpits.
Posted by: Donnah at September 25, 2006 10:17 PM