Screenwriter Bobby Newman's prospects are not looking good. He has writer's block and a deadline looming, he can't stop drinking himself into a stupor and he has just discovered that his actress wife Vee is playing "grab-ass" with a well dressed guy outside the Peninsula Hotel. His agent, who is also the narrator, has lost patience with making excuses for Bobby and promptly fires him. But just as he seems down on his luck, out of work, his marriage over after a confrontation with Vee, Bobby witnesses something extraordinary taking place, something that, as a writer, he could use to write the greatest script of his life... Steve Bochco is the creator of a trio of very successful television shows, Hill Street Blues, LA Law and NYPD Blues, three shows that, though I never really watched them, I know had a reputation for good writing and a touch of class. Death by Hollywood, in contrast, is full of terrible writing and is characterised by more than just a touch of crass.In summary, a sleazy, self-obsessed writer on the skids witnesses a sleazy, silicone-breasted actress and wife of a fat, sleazy billionaire kill a sleazy, blackmailing acting instructor through his telescope, which he has installed on his balcony not so that he can look at the stars but in order to be sleazy ("Get a look at Uranus, as it were").That is a good example of the lowest common denominator level of crude jokes and anecdotes that proliferate this disappointing book. Here is another, not crude, just crap: "I'm starting to lose my credibility (which, coming from an agent, might sound like an oxymoron, with the emphasis on the moron part". I could pick a dozen more samples from the first 50 pages that are so bad, so corny and crass that they wouldn't even have found a place amongst Frank Sinatra's between-numbers' banter. Women are merely tits and ass, men can only communicate through coarse metaphors involving things happening to the ass ("blowing smoke up my ass" etc) and anyone overweight must by necessity also be a depraved slob. OK, the plot has some decent, though unrealistic twists (stating at the start, Fargo-style, that what follows is a true story doesn't cover for that) the pace never flags and it's short, but apart from that this is a horrible novel. I don't know what Bocho was thinking of. His policeman sees himself as Colombo yet acts nothing like him. Maybe Bocho sees himself as Hitchcock, but on the evidence of this he isn't even Brian de Palma.
On first glance an amusing look at undercover Hollywood and all it's sleaze and backstabbing, politics and amorality written by someone who should know. It's a sort of Hollyweird morality tale with a twist - a homage to Columbo, and as such a murder mystery essentially. However, whilst I enjoyed the writing style and the plot, and whilst I'm not usually Mary Whitehouse, I actually found the language and sexual aspects to be a bit too much for me to enjoy it. It was cringeworthy and shocking (well not SHOCKING exactly but unnecessary) in places. In my world, there's never reason to use the "c" word. However, I know that Bochco probably wasn't using bad language for effect it's more likely just how he speaks/how the people he mixes with speak and there are lots of people that do so in that sense it was gritty and real. He told it like it was, with twists and lots of little meandering detours into narration and illustrative anecdotes, reality with no sparkle or fluff (ironic given that this is a story about Tinseltown). It's naturally written and as such isn't quite SO offensive - although it's unlikely one I'd read again as there was nothing to endear it. I admired the writing style though, and the characters were well drawn and three dimentional but no-one seemed to be a nice person with a moral compass! Depressing really.
Do You like book Death By Hollywood (2004)?
I love the plot of this one - the only problem is that the motive for one characters switch of heart wasn't explained fully - otherwise first rate.A fast, funny read.It's written in the present tense: 'It's later that night, and the air temperature in the Hills is still in the high seventies, thanks to a blast furnace of a Santa Ana blowing in from the desert toward the ocean, leaving Hollywood a hot, glistening jewel under a shimmering starlit sky.'When, a weather report and where covered thoroughly - so very factualbut balanced with the metaphorical: blast furnace wind, jewel of a citySensory description: how hot it is and how the wind is so hotGlamour: jewels, deserts and shimmering starsTripling: hot, glistening jewel and shimmering starlit skyand alliteration of the S sound to sound like wind and deserts.Also repeated O sound, which is like wind - blowing, toward, ocean etcGood beach book - if a little jaded and cynical in tone.
—Louise Armstrong
I probably shouldn't like this book. It wasn't very well written, it was lurid, the characters unlikeable, it read like a guy giving a pitch for a crap movie, and the plot was looser than the characters (I'm talking about sex there). Despite that, I liked it. It was trashy, full of sex, it was easy to read, and the plot was cliched but fun. It also included the phrase "throw her the hump" which I shall try and drop into conversation. It probably wouldn't have been published had it not been written by the same guy who wrote the excellent Hillstreet Blues, NYPD Blue, Murder One among others, however it's still a decent enough pulp read. Give it a go, just don't expect much.
—Christy
Steven Bocho has won loads of awards for his screenplays including one of my faves, NYPD Blue. You can tell he's a screenwriter, the pace is non-stop and you can practically hear them shouting 'cut' between scenes. I agree with what a few people have said about this book. It's about shallow people, it's self-indulgent, it's far-fetched. But... That's what I expected. It's also funny, dark, very well-written, and for what I took it for - something entertaining to read when I'm tired and need to get away from the real world - well, it did the job. Not serious, not particularly meaningful, but it was a fun read.
—Marguerite Kaye
