Heartbreaking!

Picked this book up as I have been a fan of Corey Feldman and Corey Haim's since lost boys and gremlins! It definitively Spares no details. Its absolutely the best written memoir I’ve ever picked up. Very true to heart, Corey had a hell of time as a kid and to be brutally Honest, This book is absolutely heartbreaking. His family pushed him into fame at the age of 3. there was so many things in his personal life that really struck a cord with me.

 

As if that wasn't awful enough, Corey wrote about how he was frequently molested by older men, and said pedophilia is a serious problem in the entertainment business. His longtime friend and fellow actor, Corey Haim, was raped on a movie set when he was just 11. In a disturbing description, Feldman looked at a photo from his 15th birthday party and saw that there were five different child molesters in the picture, along with himself and Haim. He said they were surrounded by "monsters." Feldman said he later tried to bring charges against one of his abusers, but the statute of limitations had run out.

The thing that disturbed me the most was the fact that Corey Feldman sates that Haim felt it was what guys do... And that all guys Do “It” Because he was so used to his Abusers. Its heartbreaking I honesty was crying when I read that.

 

I don't think I'll ever be able to watch Those 80s films the same way I used too. And my heart goes out to both Corey’s and I hope they get justice One day I really do.

This book is brave and shocking! By an awesome actor who talks honestly and truthfully About his best friend and what really happened to him in his life. Feldman writes like a man Determined to put the past behind him and highly highly respect him for that. I also Highly highly highly recommend this book as a read it will blow your mind.

 

 

I read almost forty books this year. That's a great deal for me, considering how much I write. Hell, in 2012, I only read fifteen books. I read at an average speed, but I take my time with really good stories. I taste each and every sentence, like a chef-in-training trying to discern a recipe. I want to know how the author created their little slice of magic. Because that's all good storytelling is - sleight of hand and other illusions. We authors keep our tricks close to our chests. But a good writer should be able to spot a great trick and learn from it. 

 

NIGHT FILM and NOS4A2 ride high above the others on this list. I went back and forth (still am bouncing to and fro) in deciding which book is my all-time favorite. This doesn't mean JACK & JILL, JOYLAND, and COREYOGRAPHY weren't amazing books, only that Pessl and Hill managed to knock Stephen King's IT from its top stop, which it had retained for nigh on twenty years, since I first read it as a teenager.

 

Speaking of King, I was sorely disappointed in DOCTOR SLEEP, so JOYLAND was a breath of fresh air. King's Hardcase Crime Novel (which doesn't fit in that genre at all) captured, once again, that magic I felt while reading "The Body" and IT. King writes youth well. He always has, and even though the MC in JOYLAND is in his early twenties, he has a young man's heart, the aura of a teenager. If I had to number this list, JOYLAND would be number three, while NOS4A2 and NIGHT FILM are tied at number one.

 

Kealan Patrick Burke scared the shit out of me this year. First, THE TENT made it all too clear that I wouldn't be going camping anytime in the next decade (the time I believe it would take for me to forget Burke's titular otherworldly creature), but, as soon as I started reading JACK & JILL, I knew it would replace THE TENT in my top five. 

 

Now, if you've been paying attention to my reviews in 2013, you'll remember I only gave COREYOGRAPHY 3.5 stars. I did so because I don't believe Feldman actually wrote the book. Also, the writing was inconsistant, at time redundant, and overall wishy-washy, but the story Feldman tells is a captivating one. One that I, unfortunately, still think about. 

 

Honorable Mentions (aka Books I read in 2013 that were not published in 2013):

 

DELIVERANCE, by James Dickey 

HORNS, by Joe Hill

THE OCEAN AT THE END OF THE LANE, by Neil Gaiman

DESERT PLACES and RUN, both by Blake Crouch 

SANDMAN SLIM, by Richard Kadrey

DARK PASSAGE, by Griffin Hayes

HELL'S MUSE, by Jack Wallen (This book deserves far more readers!)

 

Re-Reads That Lived Up To The First Read-Through:

 

THE HOBBIT, by J.R.R.Tolkien

THE STAND, by Stephen King

 

Books That Shit The Bed (aka Books that disappointed me to the point I wanted to throttle the author)

 

DEEPLY ODD, WILDERNESS, and INNOCENCE, all by my former hero, Dean (Shoulda kept the R. in your name) Koontz. Seriously, did you have a stroke nobody told us about? What the holy fuck happened to you, man? 

 

DOCTOR SLEEP, by Stephen King. This book was sooooo good, until the last thirty percent. Then, in classic King style, he phoned in the ending. The reader never has a chance to be worried for Dan or Abra. Abra is so overpowered; she's like a bored-out 350 in a Pontiac Fiero - you're just waiting for it to explode, `cause you know it's going to be awesome, but the all it does is fizzle-the-fuck out and you're left holding your rage boner, like, what the flying fornication just happened? Luckily, JOYLAND rocked my socks.

 

FLUKE, by Christopher Moore. After reading my introduction to Moore, THE LUST LIZARD OF MELANCHOLY COVE, I was riding high on a wave of awesome. Then FLUKE came along and knocked me off my figurative surf board, drowning me in an ocean of boring. Not funny, not endearing, not remotely intelligent, not finished. I dropped this deuce after page 100, 101 pages too late.

 

GAME OF THRONES, by George R.R. Martin. Watch the HBO series. That is all.

 

PIGMY, by Chuck Palahniuk. I know what you were going for Chuck, but no. Just... no. 

 

And last but not least, anything by that Edward Lorn motherfucker. Seriously, have you read his shit? You should, just to see how bad it is.

 

On a serious note: I had a great year, mostly because you wonderful bunch of crazies read my books, followed my nonsense on social media, and listened to me rant on my various blogs. I'm not shit without a readership aside from a dude sitting at a computer, talking to himself. You allow the magic to happen. Because magic without an audience is boring - the only unsatisfying masturbation there is. Thank you for a wonderful 2013. Love yo face, and everything else about you. Here's to all the wild and chaotic bullshit 2014 has to offer. 

 

Onward!

 

E.

 

 

Like a great many others, I grew up watching Corey Feldman movies. He starred in three of my favorite films of all time: Goonies, Stand By Me, and Lost Boys. I've been quoted saying that, had Feldman played a role in Howard the Duck, cinematic perfection would have been accomplished. Howard the Duck is, after all, the greatest movie to ever grace celluloid. Add Corey Feldman to the mix and peoples' heads would explode as if they'd been set upon but a group of hyperactive Scanners. Unmitigated epicosity for all. Alas, this did not happen. That doesn't change the fact that I worshiped Feldman, and wanted to be just like that little gruffy-voiced badass. Then I read this book. I no longer wish to have been Corey Feldman. And I'm sure Corey Feldman wishes he hadn't been himself.

 

The introduction to Coreyography took me aback. I expected a Hollywood tell-all from the guy that played Teddy Duchamp, Edgar Frog, and Mouth, not a minute by minute breakdown of Corey Haim's death. Coreyography also delves deeply, and I mean Hell-deep, into the prevalence of pedophilia in Tinsel Town. Reading this book, one might think Hollywood, CA was Vatican City, what with all the grown men diddling preteen boys and whatnot. 

 

So there I was, stumbling into a mess of a tale involving the Two Coreys, child molestation, and drug use on par with Keith Richards and Lindsay Lohan, wondering whether or not I wanted to continue on with what seemed to be one fuck of a dire read. I'd wanted to experience this book for nostalgia's sake. In the end, I continued on. Why? Because Feldman brings up his relationship with Michael Jackson. Once again, didn't see that coming. I'm not going to spoil anything for you, but their interactions alone make this book worth the reading. 

 

The writing is excellent. Did Feldman have a someone write this book for him? Probably. I can't say definitely one way or the other, but if Corey Feldman can write this well he shouldn't be doing anything else. There were several scenes that drew my dangling bits up into my stomach; vivid descriptions of Feldman being raped, repeatedly, were perhaps written too well. I didn't need all that input. On top of everything else, I listened to the audiobook, which Feldman narrates himself, and, during these vile recollections, Feldman seems almost... wistful. You can sense the anger, sure, but there's something else there. Something too disturbing to touch upon. Or maybe it's just that he sounds like Carol Channing...

 

I settled on 3.5 stars because, though I enjoyed this biography as much as one can enjoy a graphic retelling of such abuses, the writing was a touch... elegant at times. It's almost as if Feldman thought he was penning the final book in the Gone with the Wind Trilogy. He becomes verbose and maudlin and flowery and just plain thick. Then you have moments when phrases like "almost always" occur. Or when Feldman describes a girl as both "gloomy and sullen," as if those two words don't mean the exact same thing. In other words, the author's prose is inconsistent. 

 

One final thing and I will leave you be. I read several reviews that balk at how many names Feldman drops in his life's tale. What the hell did they expect? Corey Feldman is/was a movie star. He wasn't going to be hanging out with Timmy from the block or Hector from down the street. Of course he palled around with Drew Barrymore and Ricky Schroder and River Phoenix and Steven Spielberg. In fact, that's one of the more interesting parts about this book - the numerous interactions with big name stars who treat this poor kid with love and kindness while his home life is crumbling. And the part about Joel Schumacher cussing out a drug-addled Corey Feldman had me in stitches. Not because it's funny, per se, but because that's exactly how I would have reacted. With those very same expletives. 

 

All in all, this is tough read. But certainly don't read it if you want a flashback to childhood. Read it for a little-seen glimpse of the dark fissures running through Hollywood's pretty veneer. 

 

 

(Actually 3.5 stars rounded up)

Like a great many others, I grew up watching Corey Feldman movies. He starred in three of my favorite films of all time: Goonies, Stand By Me, and Lost Boys. I've been quoted saying that, had Feldman played a role in Howard the Duck, cinematic perfection would have been accomplished. Howard the Duck is, after all, the greatest movie to ever grace celluloid. Add Corey Feldman to the mix and peoples' heads would explode as if they'd been set upon but a group of hyperactive Scanners. Unmitigated epicosity for all. Alas, this did not happen. That doesn't change the fact that I worshiped Feldman, and wanted to be just like that little gruffy-voiced badass. Then I read this book. I no longer wish to have been Corey Feldman. And I'm sure Corey Feldman wishes he hadn't been himself.

The introduction to Coreyography took me aback. I expected a Hollywood tell-all from the guy that played Teddy Duchamp, Edgar Frog, and Mouth, not a minute by minute breakdown of Corey Haim's death. Coreyography also delves deeply, and I mean Hell-deep, into the prevalence of pedophilia in Tinsel Town. Reading this book, one might think Hollywood, CA was Vatican City, what with all the grown men diddling preteen boys and whatnot.

So there I was, stumbling into a mess of a tale involving the Two Coreys, child molestation, and drug use on par with Keith Richards and Lindsay Lohan, wondering whether or not I wanted to continue on with what seemed to be one fuck of a dire read. I'd wanted to experience this book for nostalgia's sake. In the end, I continued on. Why? Because Feldman brings up his relationship with Michael Jackson. Once again, didn't see that coming. I'm not going to spoil anything for you, but their interactions alone make this book worth the reading.

The writing is excellent. Did Feldman have a someone write this book for him? Probably. I can't say definitely one way or the other, but if Corey Feldman can write this well he shouldn't be doing anything else. There were several scenes that drew my dangling bits up into my stomach; vivid descriptions of Feldman being raped, repeatedly, were perhaps written too well. I didn't need all that input. On top of everything else, I listened to the audiobook, which Feldman narrates himself, and, during these vile recollections, Feldman seems almost... wistful. You can sense the anger, sure, but there's something else there. Something too disturbing to touch upon. Or maybe it's just that he sounds like Carol Channing...

I settled on 3.5 stars because, though I enjoyed this biography as much as one can enjoy a graphic retelling of such abuses, the writing was a touch... elegant at times. It's almost as if Feldman thought he was penning the final book in the Gone with the Wind Trilogy. He becomes verbose and maudlin and flowery and just plain thick. Then you have moments when phrases like "almost always" occur. Or when Feldman describes a girl as both "gloomy and sullen," as if those two words don't mean the exact same thing. In other words, the author's prose is inconsistent.

One final thing and I will leave you be. I read several reviews that balk at how many names Feldman drops in his life's tale. What the hell did they expect? Corey Feldman is/was a movie star. He wasn't going to be hanging out with Timmy from the block or Hector from down the street. Of course he palled around with Drew Barrymore and Ricky Schroder and River Phoenix and Steven Spielberg. In fact, that's one of the more interesting parts about this book - the numerous interactions with big name stars who treat this poor kid with love and kindness while his home life is crumbling. And the part about Joel Schumacher cussing out a drug-addled Corey Feldman had me in stitches. Not because it's funny, per se, but because that's exactly how I would have reacted. With those very same expletives.

All in all, this is tough read. But certainly don't read it if you want a flashback to childhood. Read it for a little-seen glimpse of the dark fissures running through Hollywood's pretty veneer.

As a chronicle of Feldman's descent into and recovery from addiction and an explanation of his relationships with Corey Haim and Michael Jackson, this is a serviceable record. He walks through the steps and missteps of his careers in acting and music. He addresses the physical and sexual abuse he suffered at the hands of family and "friends" and the effect that sexual abuse had on Haim.

 

But this is a rather dry and emotionless story which only seems to touch the surface of events. Feldman explains himself, but I didn't find myself emotionally engaged at any point. Even the break with Jackson, who had been practically the only genuine friend in whom he could trust, as Jackson was physically and mentally deteriorating toward the end of his life, seemed strangely bloodless. Feldman tells us he felt bewildered, hurt, and embarrassed, but I could not feel those things with him. In fact, he seemed more embarrassed and hurt that he was refused backstage passes and a ride on the bus than hurt that Jackson had withdrawn his friendship.

 

One last bit that actively annoyed me. After (very appropriately) pointing out that a teenage Haim was still the victim of abuse even though he was the initiator in a sexual relationship with an adult man, he then goes on to crow with satisfaction about his own earliest sexual experience, which occurred as a teen with an adult woman ten years his senior. Evidently he only considers it abuse if the adult is male.