Now this was a book. A great nonfiction book about the bubble, about the doom, about the apocalyptic fizz of the early 2000s and the hideous grim foreboding doomish vibe there is now.
That awful book about New York has nothing on this searing, funny, mournful, satirical treatise on Los Angeles in these burning days, and what made the real estate bubble so tantalizing, so irrisistable.
I'm not being clever at all when I say it made me laugh, and it made me cry.
Ayres post as the LA correspondent for a UK news organization led him into some of the most interesting (in the ancient curse way) situations one can imagine (Hurricane Katrina, Michael Jackson's birthday party), and his tone remained perfect.
Splendid (as he wishes he had never said.)
But really, I did weep at the end. (At lunch- so awkward.)
One quote (everyone should read this book)
"I'm just sorry about the weather.
We're all very sorry about the weather."
Read this book.
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