This collection of essays is one of the most compulsively readable, and re-readable, books I have ever owned. I was drawn to it, as you might expect, by my enjoyment of Waters' camp classics. But to be honest, I enjoy Waters the essayist at least as much, if not more, than Waters the filmmaker. Waters' films, and particularly Pecker, Serial Mom, and Hairspray, set the scene for the miscellany of obsessions which animate this book. Crackpot offers a comforting way to understand Waters' recent turn to a more conventional cinematic venue: these films are *also* celebrations of his passionate likes (and dislikes).
Waters writes a witty and acerbic prose, which conveys genuine passion for his obsessions, obsessions which include trials, the National Enquirer, Woody Allen's Interiors, dangerous candy, menthol cigarettes, and Christmas. His preferred methods seem to be the catalogue and the reminiscence: Waters' list of 101 things he hates, and 101 things he loves, are obsessive ruminations on the everyday, and Waters' methodical survey of his everyday touches gives new meaning to the sublime *and* the ridiculous. Most memorable to me, perhaps, is his LA Tour, a pre-OJ intinerary of murder, mayhem, and showbiz, and his loving tribute to the Enquirer. But his celebration of William Castle, or shame-faced coming out as a fan of avant garde, his ritualistic account of Christmas and his loving descriptions of his interests, home, and personal history all make for a case study of obsession that feels both candid and arch, in Waters' inimitable, and paradoxical way. If you read it once, you're going to read it again.