someone is always insisting upon laying in your arms so she can gaze lovingly up at you. Okay, the rest of this entry is going to be about the most recent Survivor, the season finale of Temptation Island, and Oprah’s book pick for February, We Were the Mulvaneys. If you haven’t seen one or both of the shows, be warned that there are spoilers. Same goes for the book. As far as Oprah goes, sometimes she picks really good books, and sometimes she just misses "good" by a country mile. This would be one of the ones she missed on. By page three, I was ready to throw the book across the room and gouge my eyes out. By page five, I was ready to send hate mail to Joyce Carol Oates. By page seven, Miz Poo was beginning an interpretive dance to indicate to the world at large that WE FUCKING GET IT. You Mulvaneys think you’re hot shit, the non-Mulvaneys in this book indicate many times. Now, why on earth would they be under the impression that the Mulvaneys think they’re such hot shit? Maybe because we’re told over and over AND FUCKING OVER AGAIN how incredible it was to be a Mulvaney, how SPECIAL it was to be a Mulvaney, how every Mulvaney shat gold upon command three times a day. By chapter three, I’d started skimming the story, and I ended up skimming 9/10 of the book. I came thisclose to putting the book down and not picking it back up, but as always, the thought Maybe something interesting will happen in the next chapter – the last chapter – the last paragraph – the last sentence went through my mind, and I was sorely disappointed. I was in Sam’s Club today, and in the book section, they had a pile of We Were the Mulvaneys. As I perused the other books, I kept my eye on that pile, ready to warn away any other customers fool enough to try to buy the damn thing. No one else was that much of a fool, at least not in the five minutes I was around. I can’t remember the last time I disliked a book this much.
03/05/2001