Rating: 
Summary: WHAT A DISAPPOINTMENT
Review: After fourteen years of writing vicious articles and novels, Joe `Darkside' Queenan feels jaded. He decides to stop persecuting secular saints such as Sting and Susan Sarandon and begins to emulate them instead, by embarking on a diet of spiritual regeneration, which he outlines in this amusing account. Queenan sheds nastiness along with several pounds, but in the end, being mean makes more cents.
Rating: 
Summary: In which the author tries to morally upgrade his personality
Review: And of course fails miserably while learning that which he knew all along, namely that moral goodness is just another of life's many delusions.This is my first encounter with Joe Queenan, and he is a very funny man. There's a lot of laugh-out-loud, self-deprecating/self-promoting verbal hijinks in this thoroughly enjoyable comedic romp through do-gooder land. Queenan assures us that he is the kind of guy who would tear the wings off the backs of flies and feed them to his pet rat while keeping the juicier parts for himself, and laugh while he was doing it, the kind of miscreant that would mock Mother Teresa for dressing dowdy or Jesus Christ for having a bad temper or Ramakrishna for liking the boys a little too much. In other words, the man's a moral degenerate. So what to do about it? How about a complete moral make-over? How about emulating the vapor-headed targets of his mean-spirted satire, bleeding-heart liberal mush heads like Susan Sarandon, Jimmy Carter and Paul Newman? How about BECOMING that which he trashes? How about actually committing "random acts of kindness and senseless acts of beauty" and writing a book about it? Oh my. Sounds pollyannaish at best, downright pinko at worse. Rush Limbaugh and the editors of various right-wing rags are sticking sweaty fingers under their necktied collars in clammy anticipation of such a sell-out. Fear not. Bottom line is there's a book contract to fulfill, and anyway the title assures us that Queenan sees the light long before he descends too far into that tunnel of delusion. All philanthropy is, after all, just advertisements for oneself, demonstrating for the huddled masses that one has the wherewithal to afford such largess. And all do-gooders are at heart just guilty consciences seeking cheap redemption. Joe starts with an inventory of his "personal vileness" and finds that over the past twelve years in various publications he has penned "47,678 nasty remarks...2,537 ad hominem attacks, 1,123 gratuitous asides, 342 cases of pure slander, and 564 examples of unconscionable cruelty" (p. 19). Then he recalls "A Short History of Goodness, from Jesus Christ to Sting" in which he employs one of his primary comedic devices, the incongruous juxtaposition of the names of the holy and revered with the assorted targets of his discontent, e.g., Mahatma Gandhi with Ben & Jerry of Ben & Jerry's ice cream, Desmond Tutu with Kim Basinger, and the cute commingling of Albert Schweitzer with Julia Roberts. (He didn't actually make this last coupling, but I'll do it for him, since such a joining is entirely within the spirit of his intent.) Then he throws out the toiletries manufactured by companies that use animals in experiments and buys himself some socially conscious Tom's of Maine toothpaste, etc. Here he employs another of his very clever comedic devices, namely that of damning by exaggeration (a neat variation on the time-honored damning by faint praise), e.g., mentioning Ben & Jerry's opus, <Double-Dip> with the < Bhagavad Gita>. Then he regales us with tales of actually acting out random acts of kindness and senseless acts of beauty, which he abbreviates as "RAKs" and "SABs." Particularly poignant was his search for a subway minstrel whom he would help by improving the poor man's faulty rendition of Schubert's "Ave Maria." His experience with the Harvard-educated Indian-American physicist who wanted Queenan to send him a pro bono copy of an obscure Elvis Costello CD is a tale almost too redeeming for the otherwise ironic tone of this book, and incidentally a tale all writers will particularly enjoy. Additionally, because Queenan is a particularly splendid example of that very rare creature, a successful free-lance writer, all those who aspire to write for a living will benefit by reading between the lines here for tips on how to write magazine articles for fun and profit. I would guess that Queenan's secret (aside from being a truly gifted wordsmith) is a consistently energetic self-promotion on all fronts. Either that or buying Microsoft when the Dow was at 3700, as he reports, and then faking it. Queenan is also a master of the unexpected and ironic congruence. A nice example is his giving "Krispy Kremes, shrink-wrapped" to a dissident in Washington D.C.'s Lafayette Square only to notice that the protester had not yet actually partaken of his heart-felt gift, occasioning Queenan to optimistically observe that "in the fullness of time he might see fit to open them." I must admit I laughed out loud several, maybe even numerous, times while reading this very clever put-down of the icons of pop culture, and enjoyed it all thoroughly, especially the part where he sends Linda Tripp a care package of organic groceries. What I want to do is go back and find his earlier work of social satire, Red Lobster, White Trash, and the Blue Lagoon and see what nasty things he has to say about the once-adorable Brooke Shields, et al.
Rating: 
Summary: The King of Mean at His Best
Review: I first made Joe Queenan's acquaintance as a writer in the late, great SPY magazine and in the fiercely conservative "The American Spectator." At last, here was a book reviewer and journalist who could match "National Review" columnist Florence King in wit and savagery of expression. When you read a Queenan book review, you knew there wouldn't be anything left of the author but a grease-spot on the floor. At the same time he was gaining a reputation in "Movieline" magazine as a slaughterer of sacred cows ("Sacred Cow" actually being the title of his evaluation of Barbra Striesand's acting career.) In short, he became the walking combination of the words "cruel" and "hilarious." In "My Goodness", Joe attempts to repent of all this. Expressing guilt at all the dented feelings of his many victims, he goes on a quest to remake himself into the very model of today's secular, politically correct saint--Alec Baldwin, in other words. Queenan fails spectaclarly of course, but you will fiendishly enjoy his attempt.
Rating:
Summary: The King of Mean at His Best
Review: I first made Joe Queenan's acquaintance as a writer in the late, great SPY magazine and in the fiercely conservative "The American Spectator." At last, here was a book reviewer and journalist who could match "National Review" columnist Florence King in wit and savagery of expression. When you read a Queenan book review, you knew there wouldn't be anything left of the author but a grease-spot on the floor. At the same time he was gaining a reputation in "Movieline" magazine as a slaughterer of sacred cows ("Sacred Cow" actually being the title of his evaluation of Barbra Striesand's acting career.) In short, he became the walking combination of the words "cruel" and "hilarious." In "My Goodness", Joe attempts to repent of all this. Expressing guilt at all the dented feelings of his many victims, he goes on a quest to remake himself into the very model of today's secular, politically correct saint--Alec Baldwin, in other words. Queenan fails spectaclarly of course, but you will fiendishly enjoy his attempt.
Rating: 
Summary: Joe is a gifted writer, but this is not a good book
Review: I have not read Joe's work before but it is clear that he is a gifted enough writer to make a decent living at it. I imagine that writing directly about yourself is much harder than doing a hatchet job on another author's work. (So few writers, so many Amazon reviewers...) Joe swings the axe like the tough kid from Philly, but his search for Sainthood by embracing shade grown coffee and cruelty free products just isn't genuine enough to be funny. I am sure any of his other articles that he excerpts indirectly in a long list of apologies for former misdeeds are much better. Save your money and read Joe's next hatchet job in Playboy or Rolling Stone. Joe is a gifted writer, but this is not a good book.
Rating:
Summary: Queenan is an American Treasure
Review: I'm often astonished by critics of Joe Queenan's books. Yes, he is mean. Yes, he is cruel. And yes, he is hilarious. If people are so offended by his material, why read it? Oh well, that is a subject for one of Queenan's own articles. I could not put this book down. This is third Queenan book I've read (along with Cineplex Heckler and Red Lobster) and this is as good or better than the other two. He makes many of the same points that Nick Hornby tries to in "How to Good." The difference (besides the fact that one is fiction) is that Queenan nails it. He tries hard to be good and fails. Of course he does. Neverthless, the journey is fascinating. He is one of the few writers who doesn't give a damn and tells you how he feels. You don't have agree with everything he says to enjoy his work. I admire a guy with those kind of guts (and who grew up on the mean streets of Philly--they grow guys like this there on trees). In addition, several critics have commented on his "right wing" writing--which is hilarious because Queenan slams the right wing many times in his book. He also dares to take on the leftists. He tries to learn about their culture and realizes that is filled with some good ideas--but is also subject many hypocritical failings. I laughed outloud countless times. Ok, so maybe I'm just the kind of Yuppie trash that Queenan is, but he really hits the nail on the head. As a photograph of America at the turn of the century and all it's absurdities, Queenan hits another home run. He wins again--which is better than he beloved 1964 Phillies did.
Rating:
Summary: Queenan is an American Treasure
Review: I'm often astonished by critics of Joe Queenan's books. Yes, he is mean. Yes, he is cruel. And yes, he is hilarious. If people are so offended by his material, why read it? Oh well, that is a subject for one of Queenan's own articles. I could not put this book down. This is third Queenan book I've read (along with Cineplex Heckler and Red Lobster) and this is as good or better than the other two. He makes many of the same points that Nick Hornby tries to in "How to Good." The difference (besides the fact that one is fiction) is that Queenan nails it. He tries hard to be good and fails. Of course he does. Neverthless, the journey is fascinating. He is one of the few writers who doesn't give a damn and tells you how he feels. You don't have agree with everything he says to enjoy his work. I admire a guy with those kind of guts (and who grew up on the mean streets of Philly--they grow guys like this there on trees). In addition, several critics have commented on his "right wing" writing--which is hilarious because Queenan slams the right wing many times in his book. He also dares to take on the leftists. He tries to learn about their culture and realizes that is filled with some good ideas--but is also subject many hypocritical failings. I laughed outloud countless times. Ok, so maybe I'm just the kind of Yuppie trash that Queenan is, but he really hits the nail on the head. As a photograph of America at the turn of the century and all it's absurdities, Queenan hits another home run. He wins again--which is better than he beloved 1964 Phillies did.
Rating:
Summary: Sensless acts of ego rather than sensless acts of beauty
Review: Synopsis is as follows: Cynical journalist feels guilty for being a cynic so decides to repent, by being cynical. Of course it is just an opportunity to get into print everything he has ever thought and every letter he has ever written. Therefore satisfying his quite frightening ego. A man of talent would have the ability to convert the everyday into a book, a journalist can merely report, and unfortunately does not know when to stop.
However, it was enjoyable in its pointlessness and no doubt gave Queenan the autodidactic comfort in knowing a tree has been destroyed to immortalise his senseless ego further.
Rating:
Summary: Funny but Phony
Review: That's my three word synopsis of this book and the other Queenan book that I read, Red Lobster, White Trash, and the Blue Lagoon. There is no question that Queenan is funny. I continually drew attention to myself on a cross-country flight by laughing out loud, uncontrollably at certain points. But in the end, Queenan's journey into the world of do-gooders is so transparently disingenuous that I wanted to throw the book into the recycling bin when I was finished laughing--just like I would do with one of his magazine articles. Queenan plays with the behaviors of do-gooders, but never probes the beliefs or motivations of his subjects. A true satirist would find humor in the self-righteousness of some environmentalists, social activists, etc. and not just in the products that they consume. There is a long section where Queenan apologizes for being cruel. He apologizes to Sinead O'Connor for lambasting her in public while privately owning and enjoying all of her records. However, when he recants his pledge to be "good" at the end of the book, is he also taking back his apologies? Were they also a phony exercise designed to get laughs? He claims to drag his family along on these adventures. What do they think when they discover that it was all a ruse and that nothing really changed? If you want read a book that will also provide uncontainable whoops of laughter and genuinely satisfying content, try David Sedaris's Me Talk Pretty One Day.
Rating: 
Summary: Mildly amusing, without any real wit
Review: The mildly right-wing curmudgeon writes about his attempts to practice random acts of kindness, support dozens of charities, and just generally act in a ecologically sustainable way. Obviously, he did this because he got a book out of it; whether there was any genuine impulse to be a nicer guy, or regret at attacking fatuous, self-important leftists like Alec Baldwin, I can't tell from reading the book. On the whole, it was vaguely amusing, especially the parts where he apologized to famous people for his various catty remarks. But most of the book was just a recital of all that is Extremely Left; Queenan quotes classified ads from environmental papers, or talks about manatees and wheatgrass or saving lab rats as if they were inherently funny things. In some ways I guess they are; but you have to be a mildly right-wing middle America mass media curmudgeon to think it's funny just to point and laugh.
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