LITERATURE

Reality television villain turned Donald Trump advisor Omarosa is not here to make friends in her perversely unsatisfying “tell-all” Unhinged.

All he wanted was for us to respect his neck. Is that really that much to ask for?

The memoir of Rachel Dolezal is not convincing, at all. Batshit crazy, yes. Convincing? No.

In this piece from The Joy of Trash I write about Steven Seagal’s Q-infected Alt-Right novel Way of the Shadow Wolves, a book that’s even crazier and more fascist than a novel by Steven Seagal has any right to be.

Farrah Abraham, celebrity boxer, sometimes porn star, erotic novelist and the bad girl of the Teen Mom franchise gets up close and very personal in her morbidly compelling, unintentionally revealing memoir about her doomed romance with the father of her child, who was like Romeo, if Romeo was half Beavis, half Butthead.

In honor of the boy band-centric Turning Red , I am re-running a piece (compiled in The Joy of Trash) about disgrace boy band Svengali Lou Pearlman’s deranged and deluded memoir.

Our exploration of the worst and weirdest literature has to offer explores a 1998 coffee table book devoted to Joe Camel, the lovable humanoid camel with a penis-shaped face who very successfully sold cigarettes to small children.

In this re-run of a classic from The Joy of Trash, I write about Joan Crawford’s cult 1971 guide to the fabulous life, which is everything you’d want it to be and so much more.

Tatum O’Neal’s juicy memoir chronicles her rocky relationships with ex-husband John McEnroe, father Ryan O’Neal, who is a terrible actor and an even worse human being, and her own curious early fame as the youngest person ever to win an Academy Award.