This pathetic attempt at sensationalizing what is, at best, a mediocre autobiography is only worth reading to cure a bad bout of insomnia. The sleeping tablet that I’m speaking of is a book titled “Raindrop Serenade”, written by Sadiq Ali (an obvious pseudonym. If I wrote this, I wouldn’t use my real name either.) I haven’t seen this much self-indulgent drivel since Will Smith’s last crossover hit song.

“Sadiq” starts out with his “hard knock life” as a poor black child living in the slums of Chicago in a strict family that taught him to be seen, but not heard. At some point, I was expecting him to mention that he was the son of a sharecropper or coal-miner’s daughter. I mean, the whole “bad childhood” angle went out with Michael Jackson’s last nose, didn’t it? Life is hard and sometimes it sucks, so you deal and get over it. Take that jazz to Oprah, but for God’s sake, don’t base ten chapters on it!

I could go on and on with the absurd details (Awkward adolescence, foolish young marriage, Naval enlistment, drunken sailor encounters with “delicious-looking” Australian women, ill-advised love affairs and one-night stands, difficult divorce, various heart-breaking relationships, his odd obsession with football and some guy named Walter Payton <yawn>) but I’m afraid that I’ll induce massive comas or violent nausea if I continue. Trust me, unless you need a good night’s sleep or a decent laxative, I recommend that you pass on this one.

"To be a poet is a condition, not a profession."
- Robert Frost

http://inevitabletruth.blogspot.com/
http://www.lulu.com/content/187759
http://www.hdfest.com/Barry/allreviewsbarry.html
http://wishbonec.wordpress.com/