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John Leland"You'd think that someone born in the thick of the Great Depression would have a sad story to tell," Bruce Jay Friedman writes, "but mine isn't one of them." For the length of this jaunty, dishy memoir, Friedman makes good on this promise, spinning campfire tales from a career spent turning the written word into that uncelebrated but elusive commodity, a living. Some writers seek immortality and end up scarred and bitter. Friedman sought regular paychecks and occasional furtive embraces and ended up with a table at Elaine's. Boohoo. Whose memoir would you rather take away for the weekend?
—The New York Times Book Review