Phew, that’s a whole lot of media bold-face to include in one hed. Nonetheless, David Carr did indeed review Michael Wolff’s bio of Rupert Murdoch for this past Sunday’s New York Times Book Review. Here’s a taste, though the entire thing is really worth a read.
The book is a strangely alluring artifact, with huge gaps in execution and stylistic tics that border on parody; it will nonetheless provide a deeply satisfying experience for the media-interested. They are a pair, these two. Both adore gossip and revel in their unpleasantness, and neither gives a rip what anyone else thinks of him. Murdoch has achieved improbable business success, and Wolff has made no secret that he covets same.
Wolff has never distinguished himself as a reporter. Over the years, he has succeeded in cutting through the clutter by being far less circumspect — and sometimes more vicious — than other journalists, whom he views as archaic losers about to go the way of the Walkman.
Much was made of Wolff’s alliance with Murdoch, that it would lead to complicity and sycophancy, but Wolff remains true to his nature, which is joyously nasty…All of which makes the reader wonder why Murdoch would, in practical terms, drop a hungry ferret down his own trousers.