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Can this book be any worse?
am 24. Mai 1999
Ellen Degeneres has been surrounded by controversy ever since she came out of the closet as a lesbian--and that's what I was waiting for in her book, My Point...and I Do Have One. Instead, what I found was a bunch of ramblings that had nothing to do with her life. In fact, the only chapter that actually dealt with her life--Chapter One--wasn't serious at all. It was an interview Degeneres had with a neighbor from her childhood year, asking her what she remembered about her. All the neighbor had to say was that she was fat and had no friends. I was expecting to learn about her experiences as a gay woman, her life, her hardships, her influences. This book offered none of that. Ultimately, I was disappointed in the lack of sincerity and intensity of the book. To me, it seemed frou-frou, disorganized, and not at all real. I felt I wasted my time by reading it. I could have watched her show and gotten the same information, at the same time seen some funny acting. Her book was written like her TV show, a rambling discussion about whatever she chooses. It was as if she picked out her subjects from a hat, and then wrote about them. Every time Ellen began a discussion based on the chapter heading, she veered off into something totally different. But at the every end of the chapter, in a weak attempt to regain the thread of her topic, she returns briefly to her main point. Her book was really not based on anything, and each chapter had nothing to do with the others. There's one chapter dedicated to her famous French toast recipe with squid, and another about what people should do to annoy co-workers. Some are lists, poems, journal entries, apology letters, fill-in-the-blanks, and just plain prose, but they are all individual and different. She actually skipped chapter 13 because she felt that if it was bad luck for a building elevator, it would be bad luck for her book. Her writing style was at first intriguing, because I have always found her comedic acts funny and true to life. She included interesting descriptions, like "I was born, bred, and lightly sauteed in and around New Orleans, a city steeped and marinated in history." But after realizing that her whole book was written in the voice of a person is speed talking and mixing up subjects, I began to get annoyed. Even her chapter titles had subtitles that were off the point, like I went to a psychic, or......baloney is just salami with an inferiority complex. Why couldn't she just stay on one point longer than a few sentences? I finally realized that her title really held true to her book. She said that she had a main point, but left it to discover another point, only to finally return to the original point at the very end. In my humble opinion, this book is 2 thumbs down! I would feel guilty recommending it to my worst enemy. This book started off with my high hopes of a good read, but left me with a harsh disappointment. I had expected to learn more about the author, and to get insight into her life, instead, I learned how to get bogeymen out of my closet. Ellen should stick to stand-up comedy instead of attempting to write a book and wasting the time of her publishers and the readers.