Jonathan Knee is also not going to say in his review for Dealbook that Straight to Hell: True Tales of Deviance, Debauchery and Billion-Dollar Deals makes him want to start a program of book burning.
What, precisely, could the author — who now describes himself as running “a Twitter site that aggregates commentary that is supposed to embody the 1 percent” — have to tell us in a book? The new publisher also appeared to struggle with this question as it ultimately pushed back the release date from last fall to this month. The answer, which is revealed in the too many pages of the profoundly uninteresting “Straight to Hell: True Tales of Deviance, Debauchery and Billion-Dollar Deals” (Atlantic Monthly Press), is nothing much at all.
Or pay the publisher a visit and ask "What the f*ck were you thinking?"
The only reminders in “Straight to Hell” of the Twitter account that gave Mr. LeFevre any relevance in the first place are the pages of sample tweets that introduce each chapter and an unconvincing and self-serving four-page “author’s note” about the controversies that preceded publication. The rest is a tired and dated memoir of his infantile high jinks as a young banker.
Or teach a class in the fall entitled "Books That Aren't Worth The Pages They're Printed On".
Even if you think that having a contest to see who can run into a restaurant and scream a genitalia-oriented request the loudest is hysterical, this sort of thing has been covered previously in better books like “Monkey Business,” by John Rolfe.
Or lobby Amazon to add an insert to every book it sells that reads "Warning: this author is full of shit".
Mr. LeFevre’s lack of both irony and self-awareness is on display with his selection of the first Twitter message in the chapter dividers: “If you can be good at one thing, be good at lying … because if you’re good at lying, you’re good at everything.” There is plenty of evidence in the book and in the events leading to its publication that this tweet represents the author’s personal credo.
Or gauge his eyes out.
And readers can be forgiven for wondering where Mr. LeFevre might have embellished his story to make up for how little he actually had to say — which becomes more apparent with every page.
But perhaps you can read between the lines?