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Title: Just Desserts to the Cosmically Deserving
Review: This book is not elitist. Brother Queenan speaks the simple truth. We all should know by now that, in a perfect world, Michael Bolton, Kenny G and Yanni (not to mention the esteemed Mr. Tesh) should, at present, form the nucleus of a truly mediocre lounge band playing weeknights at a Ramada Inn in Des Moines. Unfortunately, as those gushing reviews of The Horse Wisperer on this very site indicate, many in the American public are unwilling to recognize the fact that their pop-subculture predilections do not rank in the same cosmos with true art. Pardon me for saying so, but Queenan ought to be issued the Congressional Medal of Honor for not showing the common, overly egalitarian tendency to spare the delicate feelings of a few misguided Celestine Prophets. The stuff is miserably bad. You can read or listen to it. You can even like it. But you are forbade from calling it other than what it is: drivel. God Bless Joe Queenan for saying so. Ahmen.
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