My initial impression of Confessions of A Local Celebrity by Mike Soret was that it was the worst book I’d ever read. However, by the end I found that I had enjoyed myself an awful lot.

Confessions of A Local Celebrity follows the rise to alleged fame – then fall – of Mike Soret’s band, Edmonton swing-punks The Molestics.

The book easily divides into three parts. First is the section where Soret introduces the band, explains the name and gives some back-story.

However, just when the reader gets interested in a story, Soret interrupts himself to say things like: “Yawn. You don’t know this guy, what do you care?”

In the second section, Soret tells colourful and explicit stories of his time with the band. He makes incredibly shrewd observations about bands, music, the industry and people. He exposes everything, without thought to political correctness or reputation, because, as Soret says, his band is over and he does not care who he annoys.

The book ends with Soret resuming his self-deprecation and explaining how the band breaking up was his own fault.

Confessions of a Local Celebrity is the most poorly written book I’ve ever read. It is rambling and incoherent. Soret uses slang and inside jokes which only succeed in confusing the reader.
There is no linear story and no definite point to the book at all.

However, for the majority of the book the reader will be laughing out loud at the sarcastic and oddly accurate comments on band politics and human nature.

Also, Soret’s dry sense of humour is accessible to everyone, not just musicians. There are moments of comic brilliance, like when Soret writes about his hungover appreciation for Legally Blonde:

“I watched it twice in a row and cried at the same spots. That bend and snap routine should have been cut, it just didn’t work, and the speedy trial was a little too Perry Mason, but I really like how she overcame the prejudice about her beauty. Not exactly Virgin Suicides, but effective enough considering my hangover. But I’m sorry, when she came down those stairs after the verdict in that orange thing, there’s no way her ass was a size four like she claimed.”

All things considered, Confessions of a Local Celebrity is worth reading. If you can get past the beginning and get through the end you might enjoy yourself.

But who cares about my opinion? You don’t know me, so why should you care?

Published in Volume 64, Number 2 of The Uniter (September 10, 2009)