Non-Fiction

I am up early this morning because I have a migraine headache thinking about these matters.

I will try to finish this thread today. But bear in mind: there is a lot more - a lot more - I could have written here.

I just have to get back to the business of trying to make a living and taking care of my health. I have come to accept
no one will ever attempt to do anything about any matter regarding James Patterson and his handlers.

He can say or do anything he wants with impunity. He has acted this way, with impunity and complete arrogance,
for almost 40 years now, ever since November 1984.

His memoir states something in the end to the effect that almost everything
he wrote in the memoir is false.

He now gives lectures to the public, as he did this week in Battlecreek, Michigan, claiming
he is an "entertainer."

If almost everything in his memoir is known by him to be false -- and an exercise of his free speech -- and
he is an entertainer, then this book should be classified in a different genre. It reads like a bad comedy routine.

Thus, this book should not be marketed or
classified as a memoir, nor as an autobiography or biography.

In my view, this book is a piece of fiction with true
stories about playing golf with famous people thrown in. So, I think he has created a new genre of book, though I have
no idea what to call it.

And if people think this book is the greatest thing since sliced bread, that's their right.

I have the right to walk away from what I consider garbage / trash. I continue to agree with how the reviewer on Good Reads I quoted earlier described this book: "crap, about crap." Maybe that is the name of the new genre Patterson has created here: CRAP.