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There are currently 16 member reviews
for Dangerous When Wet
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Elizabeth G. (Cincinnati, OH)
Boring as a Wet Cocktail Napkin
I wanted to like this memoir but as I read it, questions came to mind such as: how did this book even get published? I've read a lot of books and watched several films about addiction and find them very interesting. This book is interesting at first, but what do you do when the main character has no interests, no character, and one basic goal in life? The author includes more details about the random guys he picks up than about his long-time partner.
Jamie's goals from a young age--(high school) are to drink and boink. Those are his aspirations in life and he sets out to do them in NYC because he always visualized himself drinking there--oh the glamour! We get details on how much he loves fur coats--a lot!. He loves martinis. He adores Joan Crawford. We get a glimpse of a few real people that seem important to him, but one who sounds incredibly interesting and maybe influential is reduced to the angora sweater she wears. And unfortunately is gone too soon.
The author sets out to party because he wants to; and he loves it and continues endlessly. It's a bit backward; and since he's my age, the post-80s sex education makes it counter-intuitive as well. Dangerous is right.
The "drama" about MamaJean is really overdone. She is a Southern woman who lavishes attention on her baby, but I really couldn't see how it was any more co-dependent than a lot of child-parent relationships that don't involve drinking and boinking as your main goals in life. He went off to college and then moved to New York. If she had a tantrum here and there, so what? Parents sometimes get mad and have a little drama. This book is just a love letter to the author. He used her as part of the framework for this book. She was busy with her life during this time as well but always helped him when he needed it. It's possible he thinks her slight eccentricity and his shallow eccentrics make him special somehow, but they don't. I've known plenty of alcoholics, some family members. None have risen to this height of utter disdain.
His contempt for everything from his small hometown to monogamy to 12-step programs to a really nice rehab is off the charts. What does Jamie love? Fur coats, alcohol, sex, and himself. And Mama Jean to some extent. When he can look past himself. This book is a great guide about a full-blown narcissist. He wasn't repressed, oppressed, abused, or harmed in any way. He wanted to drink and boink as much as possible and he did so until he was too sick to do it anymore.
There is no redemption for this spoiled, immature, shallow, irresponsible, egotisitcal brat. He's taken it all for granted. If you want a good memoir about addiction--this is NOT it.
Note: I have no problem with gay writers or addicts at all. The issue here is that this book was a complete chore to read with no redeeming qualities. I'd recommend David Sedaris for great writing on family dynamics and even James Frey's A Million Little Pieces (part fiction or not; it's still a much better story).
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Jeanne B. (Albuquerque, NM)
Stupid when wet
I found this book to be just one more soppy memoir about a deeply narcissistic man and his dysfunctional, of course "larger than life" mother, his hedonistic romp through the gay sex scene of Manhattan, and his routine, almost textbook descent into alcoholism, rehab, and sobriety. This is ground that has already been covered so thoroughly and so well by other writers and screenwriters - gay, straight, and other - that it would take a true artist to add to the picture. Jamie Brickhouse is no artist and there is nothing new here, except maybe the sheer depth and scope of his self-absorption, which is truly amazing. He even brags about how well he writes. Not true. I needed a drink myself to get through the book. I mean no disrespect to the author's personal life journey, but I'm just not interested in learning about and validating every last sordid detail of it. I felt used.
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