I Was Cursing While Reading It . . .

The title of this book was, I'll admit, more than a little titillating. I'd always wondered about that guy. Well, I'll wonder no more, because this book held absolutely no interest for me, and I read all 216 pages, hoping against hope. It slogged along, outlining every book dealer known to man (okay, a slight exaggeration, but it felt that way) and all the ways that they have cheated to one-up the next guy over. In the end, it felt like it was really a very detailed, extremely dry book about unscrupulousness in the literary world. I didn't detect any "curse", unless I was somehow able to continue reading after I'd dozed off (which wouldn't surprise me.) What I learned about the marquis himself was that he was a giant brat, pretty much all his life. There you go. I'll save you the time and money.