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A review by aeudaimonia
Catch Me If You Can: The True Story of a Real Fake by Frank W. Abagnale, Stan Redding
Did not finish book. Stopped at 3%.
I honestly feel bad that I'm giving up ten pages into a 293-page book (my edition). I'm sure that were I to make it into Abagnale's actual feats as a con artist, I'd enjoy probably the book more. But within the first ten pages, his self-constructed character is so unlikeable with such statements as "If I had to place any blame for my future nefarious actions, I'd put it on the Ford [that my Dad bought me]" and "I am not impressed by today's tomes on women's rights in the bedroom. When Henry Ford invented the Model-T, women shed their bloomers and put sex on the road." These sentences are both on page 10, and written from a place of hindsight: he's not describing how unlikeable he was as a teenager; this is just what he thinks.
(Speaking of his father, it's worth noting that one of the reasons he was so hard to catch was that his father--an affluent businessman very active in Republican politics--was able to scrub Abagnale's juvenile record. This isn't just the story of an intelligent con artist who gets by on nothing but his own charisma. Abagnale's success is inseparable from his privilege as a wealthy white man.)
Page 10, in fact, is the point I realized I couldn't finish--specifically after reading about his first sexual encounter. Abagnale writes, "I don't remember how she got into the car, or where we went after she got in, but I do remember she was all silk, softness, nuzzly, warm, sweet-smelling and absolutely delightful, and I knew I'd found a contact sport that I could really enjoy. She did things to me that would lure a hummingbird from a hibiscus and make a bulldog break his chain."
Later, at the bottom of the same page: "I woke up thinking of girls. I went to bed thinking of girls. All lovely, leggy, breathtaking, fantastic and enchanting. I went on girl scouting forays at sunrise. I went out at night and looked for them with a flashlight."
Writing is obviously a subjective art; I can't in good faith call Abagnale's writing strictly bad. But I can certainly call it personally unenjoyable. Those strings of adjectives send me back to 2015 and Lady Gaga on Ryan Murphy: "Talented, brilliant, incredible..." Except that was an interview; this is a (presumably) edited, published book. The phrase "lure a hummingbird from a hibiscus" alone makes me a little bit nauseous.
TL;DR: I will be consulting Wikipedia for a second-hand account of his exploits and I wish Frank Abagnale a very pleasant women's rights.
(Speaking of his father, it's worth noting that one of the reasons he was so hard to catch was that his father--an affluent businessman very active in Republican politics--was able to scrub Abagnale's juvenile record. This isn't just the story of an intelligent con artist who gets by on nothing but his own charisma. Abagnale's success is inseparable from his privilege as a wealthy white man.)
Page 10, in fact, is the point I realized I couldn't finish--specifically after reading about his first sexual encounter. Abagnale writes, "I don't remember how she got into the car, or where we went after she got in, but I do remember she was all silk, softness, nuzzly, warm, sweet-smelling and absolutely delightful, and I knew I'd found a contact sport that I could really enjoy. She did things to me that would lure a hummingbird from a hibiscus and make a bulldog break his chain."
Later, at the bottom of the same page: "I woke up thinking of girls. I went to bed thinking of girls. All lovely, leggy, breathtaking, fantastic and enchanting. I went on girl scouting forays at sunrise. I went out at night and looked for them with a flashlight."
Writing is obviously a subjective art; I can't in good faith call Abagnale's writing strictly bad. But I can certainly call it personally unenjoyable. Those strings of adjectives send me back to 2015 and Lady Gaga on Ryan Murphy: "Talented, brilliant, incredible..." Except that was an interview; this is a (presumably) edited, published book. The phrase "lure a hummingbird from a hibiscus" alone makes me a little bit nauseous.
TL;DR: I will be consulting Wikipedia for a second-hand account of his exploits and I wish Frank Abagnale a very pleasant women's rights.