Electroboy : A Memoir of Mania

Rating:
Summary: Coming to terms
Review: They say you shouldn't judge a book by its coverer, but I have to admit I've been guilty of this crime. I was originally drawn to Behrman's work by the bright yellow cover, but what I found inside was far better. The work provided an entertaining look at someone's life, from stories of travel around the world, to risky behavior revolving around sex and drugs, to life in New York City. This book did things for me other than entertainment as well. As someone that has been diagnosed with biopolar disorder it helped me realize things could be a lot worse. Despite my problems with illness the actions of Andy Behrman seem more extreme than I am capable, which gave me some peace.

Rating:
Summary: A Repulsive Individual
Review: This autobiography of a male prostitute, cocaine addict, and art forger I found sickening. There is nothing to like about this creep. The author is a manic depressive, and so am I, but I find no kinship with him. I'm even guilty of a few of the things he did, but at least I don't brag about my self-destructive exploits or try to entertain voyeurs with sleazy trash like Electroboy. I have a sense of shame, which Behrman obviously does not. I couldn't finish the book, which is rare for me; it's that disgusting.

Rating:
Summary: Electroboy is Shockingly Bad
Review: This book is nothing more than a shameless exploitation of Behrman's most raw, sensationalistic experiences in an attempt to CASH IN. Period. To quote Behrman himself on the gossipy ...web site, which refers to him as "one lucky writer" because of all the money he is making: "Anyone who loves drugs, sex, and crime will love this book." Not exactly the words of a suffering manic depressive who is writing a memoir of mania in an effort to bring hope to others suffering from the illness and understanding to the rest about the illness. He never delves into his feelings, skims over his depressions because they don't make for good, sexy copy like mania does, and seems to blame his sexual exploits and criminal behavior on mania but never really explains if mania can be responsible for such behavior. This book is a rambling, superficial sham and has set back peoples' attitudes toward mental illness a good 20 years. I did a search on the web on Electroboy and have not found one person of reputation in the psychiatric field who endorses this book as a good book about mental illness, manic depression or anything of that ilk. Stay away from it -- it's a FICTION book about drugs, sex and crime, and not even a good one in that category.

Rating:
Summary: Who cares?
Review: This is just another "Please pay attention to me" screed by a whiny New York loser. It teaches us nothing about the mind and how it works. In today's world, are we supposed to care about a vulgar, wasted life? I'm so tired of these "memoirs" begging us to sit in on everyone's therapy sessions. Go volunteer. Help someone. Think about someone besides yourself. Random House should be ashamed.

Rating:
Summary: Wow!
Review: When I first heard of Andy Berman's book, I was excited to read it. As a person who has also suffered from manic depression, it was frightening to relive some of Andy's experiences that so closely were like mine. I have not yet read the last ten pages because I want to save them. It would be a shame that this book would have to end. I have never been in a jail but his stories from prison were so funny. Made me laugh a lot. I hope Andy is okay today because he has been through a lot and I think that anyone who wants to know what the other side is like should read his book. It's one of the best and most exciting and scary books I have ever read. He's a really good writer and the Electricshock description was so real that I was glued to the page. I really could not put it down, not even to get a soda.

Rating:
Summary: ker-plunk
Review: While I certainly appreciate the attempt, I didn't feel that Mr. Behrman created a successful book, in that it offers little in the way of substance, or insight into his mental illness. What we have is manic depression as justification for the author's public display of his consumerism, sexual exploits, and "jet set" Manhattan lifestyle, which in these pages is not exciting or shocking, but rather pathetic. One feels the author sold the book to a publisher as a "concept" and then set about cranking out the pages. No heart, little insight, Electroboy feels empty.