The not-memoir took the form of a road trip with massive gambling losses, and there were some funny parts sprinkled throughout. What I liked about the book was that it played fast and loose between fact and fiction; Macdonald took facts of his life and manipulated them, blew them all out of proportion, so there was a swirling uncertainty over what I was reading and how much it was true or not. That and many of the anecdotes were surprising and unpredictable in their payout, which was intentional. It did take me longer than I expected to read the book, though; it should have been a day or two read, but it took me over a week to read it, and that’s because what I am looking for to connect with is depth, wrestling with the pain and uncertainty of life. Macdonald feels that, sure, but he transmutes it into surface level puns and humor and stories; he shields and hides his interiority from the world. I prefer something more depth oriented and direct.

With that said, the not-memoir was somewhat better than the review blurbs made it out to be (i.e. praise from big institutions and famous people = it’s going to be shit), and I do appreciate that Macdonald kept his cancer diagnosis to himself, thinking correctly that it would take away from his humor, and overall I would recommend the book, but only to those who appreciate his humor, and not for those who think they will become much closer to knowing who Norm was, because his interior shielding is up throughout the whole book.

(http://www.autoadmit.com/thread.php?thread_id=5836399&forum_id=2most#49680637)