Word: authorã
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...describes, some of whom retain the strange, menacing darkness that would fit better in a Dan Brown novel. Selfish, conniving, and sometimes senselessly cruel, these characters seem inappropriately one-sided alongside the other rich characters who populate the novel. Still, what would be cardboard cut-outs in another author??s hands seem almost real in Docx’s. “Be as charming as champagne,” one solely conniving character thinks to himself as he winds himself up for extortion. His eloquently worded thoughts almost make one forget that, rather than a fully developed...
...author??s supposed motive of disclosure seems to erode as the book contains no real medical information about plastic surgery. Furthermore, the mother does not discuss the rationale behind her breast augmentation. Salzhauer admitted in Newsweek that he tried to avoid that issue, calling it “a stretch for a six-year-old.” Yet the decision to have one’s stomach drained of fat seems no more sensible than stuffing silicone into your bosom. If Dr. Michael actually explained any of cosmetic surgery’s fine print and logistics, most...
...Arab community in New York City,” he said. “It’s just like having a good time and hanging out.” McCarthy’s inspiration and research was not limited to the United States. Tarek was drawn from the author??s own experiences in the Middle East. “I was in the Middle East for a bit; Tarek came out of there,” he said. “I was spending time with different musicians and artists.” But, just as McCarthy...
...Will Forte, and Andy Richter, details their numerous and frequently undesirable sexual encounters. Despite many cringe-inducing moments, the book is hilarious and satisfying from start to finish. Each of the thirty comedians penned his own chapter, all of which are titled by a lesson that derives from the author??s story. These lessons range from self-reflective comments (“I’m Easy”) to advice (“Don’t Come on Your Cat”) to the absurd (“Nine Years is the Exact Right Amount...
...myth of a Mediterranean cult of hallucinogen-gorging island dwellers, casting them as post-apocalyptic street hunters; tension winds tight against a sparse arrangement of drum clatter, guitar reverb, and a xylophone that seems to echo from the bottom of a sewer.“We Call Upon the Author?? begins a searing second act with a snarling Cave reciting a list of grievances against an ambivalent God. Yet again, the finger of blame points at Cave, who seems to bring down the song’s misery around himself (with bizarre imagery like “myxomatoid...