Confessions of a Master Jewel Thief, Bill Mason with Lee Gruenfeld

If you're interested in reading a self-congratulatory exercise in ego, combined with self-serving justifications for criminal activity, this book is for you. The title (and the cover photography) promises stories of daring heists by a thief who mingles, tuxedo-clad, among the bejeweled and glittering. Actual anecdotes of jewel thieving are few and far between. We learn a great deal more than is interesting about his legal problems (and what exactly makes him a master if he's been caught?), his relationships with women, his involvement with Mob figures and drug deals... all told with great attention to the number of times Mason can climb up a rope using only his amazing upper-arm strength. In the last seven of 358 pages, Mason takes the time to admit that perhaps his chosen profession was less than acceptable and to say that - at this late date - that perhaps he had inflicted more than financial damage when he stole, and gee, he's kinda sorry about that. Borrow this one from the library if you must read it; the man doesn't deserve a cent in royalties.

Debutante, Gioia Diliberto

"Debutante" is a biography of Brenda Diana Duff Frazier, Glamour Girl No. 1 in 1938. A product of a socially grasping mother and grandmother, Brenda Frazier became famous at age 17 for her beauty and fortune. Made much of by the press of the day, featured on the cover of Life magazine, set to inherit millions, Frazier was nonetheless a poor little rich girl whose home life left much to be desired. "Debutante" is the story of her unhappy childhood, adolescence and adult life. Though beautiful, rich and feted, Brenda became a drug addict and alcoholic who also suffered from anorexia and bulimia. Diliberto's book never makes a convincing case for why Frazier was considered interesting and not simply bizarre. Brenda Frazier makes a poor subject and an uninteresting story. Boring.

The Dormant Beast, Enki Bilal

Ugh. I'm a big fan of graphic novels, and this one was pretty awful -- melodramatic, and predictable. Women, apparently, also only have one face. They can have different hair, but they all have the same face.