This week in the book section, I review a book about Neil Diamond. (You may have noticed that the cover of this book appears in the print edition's book section, but there is no review. That's because the was cut for space and then we didn't actually remove the photo. This is how we fill the Regrets issue, people.)
Look. I love Neil Diamond, and not in an ironic way. I have somewhere between 15 and 20 hours of his music on my iTunes, and I sing his songs at karaoke—wholeheartedly and without irony—whenever I get the chance. I've seen The Jazz Singer five times; that is how much I love Neil Diamond. So when David Wild releases a book like this, something that claims to be an unabashed adoration of Diamond's life and work, my ears perk up with interest.
It's too bad Wild is so busy playing cutesy-pie—writing crap like "in my heart of hearts—my "Heartlight" if you will—I remain a firm Believer that if you hate Neil Diamond, then you may actually hate yourself" to explain sincerely why he likes Diamond's work.
You should read the whole thing (the review, not the book.)
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