A. V. Club

I picked this book up on a whim, from a remainder table at Powell's City of Books. Some of my favorite reads of the last 10 years have come from there. This isn't one of them.

If you read the Onion at all, you're probably familiar with the A.V. Club, their features on media and pop culture. Those pieces, like the rest of the Onion, are usually entertaining. This book is a collection of lists, most of which include commentary on each item, explaining its inclusion. Some of the lists are interesting ("16 films featuring manic pixie dream girls") or informative ("22 great songs inspired by heinous crimes", "8 great films made by directors after they turned 70"), and others are quite funny ("6 Keanu Reeves movies somehow not ruined by Keanu Reeves", "15 Dr Seuss characters that sound like sex toys"). Naturally, any time one selects things based on subjective criteria, there's going to be a degree of personal opinion involved. But quite a few of these lists don't contain anything but ("23 songs that should never be covered again", or "1 amazing mid-90's sketch-comedy show that towers above all others and still provides endlessing quotable material more than a decade later" (hint: it's Mr. Show)), and those just aren't that interesting to read. Even worse are the generally unfunny lists without commentary ("10 things the Ramones wanna or don't wanna do") .

There are also a number of guest lists, written by celebrities of assorted flavors. Most of them are utterly skippable, despite the talent of some of the contributors (Amy Sedaris, John Hodgman). A notable exception is Patton Oswalt's thoughtful list of six quietly revolutionary films; Daniel Handler and "Weird Al" Yankovic put together a couple funny ones as well. The entire book also has a sort of running gag in the form of parallel lists at the top and bottom of each page, comprising A.V. Club Heaven and Hell; the supposed humor comes from the contrast between items, but it careens madly between obviousness, pointlessness, and annoying obscurantism.

Don't get me wrong; I didn't hate the book (I did give it three stars). I just found much of it annoying. But there are a few lists that have given me things to watch, listen to, or read, and for those I'm really grateful; for example, "5 essential books about popular music" includes Lester Bangs's amazing [b:Psychotic Reactions and Carburetor Dung|239404|Psychotic Reactions and Carburetor Dung|Lester Bangs|http://d.gr-assets.com/books/1328126537s/239404.jpg|62767], which makes me want to read the other four. So all in all, not exactly a waste of time, but nothing one needs to keep on the shelf or ever read again.… (mehr)

You know when you think to yourself "I'll just have one of these Pepperidge Farm cookies." And then an hour later you come to your senses, a Milano chocolate ring around your mouth, fluted paper cups strewn everywhere, and you feel like utter crap? No? Me neither. But if I did ever do that, I would imagine it would be a pretty good analogy to how I approached this book. I'm a huge fan of the AV Club's trenchant and irreverent review style, and I've wanted to own this tome of pop-culture lists since it came out last year. Just my luck, I stumbled across it in the bargain bin last weekend. I took it home, assuming that I'd dip into it as a coffee table book. Instead, I picked it up one evening, and then didn't resurface until 12:30 am on a work night. And by the time I put it down I felt overfed and miserable. As always, the reviews were incisive and compelling, but the short 100-words-or-less format for each blurb and the endless lists made me feel like I was eating junk food. Quality junk food. The kind that comes in fluted paper cups. But still junk food.

Fortunately, now that I've devoured it in one sitting I can pass it along to someone who has some modicum of will power, and I can turn my sights on what I assume with be a more substantive read: Nathan Rabin's My Year of Flops.… (mehr)