So I read this: Whores of Lost Atlantis by Charles Busch.

An interesting and gossipy roman a clef from drag diva Busch, fictionalizing the circumstances behind his 80s-Off Broadway smash Vampire Lesbians of Sodom. Fans of underground theatre and delicious dialogue should delight in this offering, even if it at times seems a little too glowing with regards to its author/subject.

Ideally, I'd love for someone to lay out who everyone's real-life counterpart is in the story, because there are some juicy tidbits that are crying out for an expose of some sort. But still, this was a pleasant read for a sweltering summer.

So I read this... Read Between My Lines: The Musical and Life Journey of Stevie Nicks by Sandra Halliburton.

I love celebrity tell-all books as much as anyone, and you just know that a life as interesting and chaotic as that of Stevie Nicks has got some dirt to dish and tales to tell. Sadly, this effort feels like an expanded research paper. It's almost all direct quotes from other materials, and it feels, honestly, like a biography-by-Google. That's nothing against Ms. Halliburton, who seems to have a profound respect both for Nicks and her fans, but the text of this book simply isn't up to snuff. It's like a several-hundred page Wikipedia article, but with an awkwardly-constructed timeline.

I will confess, I learned a few things about Stevie that I didn't know before (including one devastating anecdote about what happened between her and Prince following "Stand Back"). But I can't get past the fact that all the information in the book comes from other interviews. And then the very last chapter is just fan testimony. I would call myself a Stevie Nicks fan, but I don't think it's really something that belongs in a legitimate biography.

An unchallenging read with some decent tidbits, but nothing too explosive. Halliburton indirectly references the urban legend about Nicks having an assistant anally administer cocaine, but in a way that seems disingenuous; she mentions the rumor in order to acknowledge it and capitilize on its notoriety, but she leaves the terminology vague and nonexplicit, so as not to offend Nicks or her fanbase- which line do you want to walk?

Family Entropy: The Ciccones.

It's just hard to even know what to think of Madonna these days. She just is- she's Madonna. She remains a fascinating businessperson and icon, even if she hasn't been much fun for the past fifteen or so years.

But the news that her brother Christopher has a tell-all book coming out has me interested, I'll not lie. I love sleazy celebrity biographies (the best one so far being J. Randy Taraborelli's Michael Jackson: The Magic and The Madness), and I derive a sick satisfaction from watching family relationships collapse amidst a flurry of faxes, press releases, and publishers' contracts.



So this new one has some excerpts in the Daily Mail today, and it's mildly juicy. While I do think Christopher Ciccone has an ax to grind, it's nice to have some evidence that the combination of Guy Ritchie and Kabbalah proved a one-two punch in the diminishing of Madonna's, well, Madonnitude.

I'll read the book, certainly. But I still think "Heartbeat," off the otherwise lackluster new record, is among the best things she's ever recorded.

And who really wins in this kind of situation, because here I am, talking about Madonna again.