Tonight I picked up "Kafka's Last Love," which I discovered at Borders. I plan on digging in as soon as I'm done with "Driving Mr. Albert."
Oh, yeah. A guy named J.L. King is coming to Barnes & Noble. King is the author of a talk-show circuit book called "On the Down Low," which purports to be about the world of "straight" men (presumably black) who sleep with other men. Confused? You're not the only one.
My question: Who's going to come to this signing? If you're on the "down low," that means it's a secret, right? It would seem to me that anyone "on the DL" (King actually uses this inane abbreviation) would make a point not to be present at a book signing for an author and self-professed expert on the subject. (You can tell King is an expert, because the book cover is a somber black-and-white portrait of him looking very grim and serious, wearing the kind of expression that says "We need to talk.")
I have half an urge to make the scene just to see who, if anyone, is there -- but I'm afraid someone might mistake me for being "on the DL."
The truly galling thing is that King is making a killing off this fictional social malady. Not that there aren't bisexual men (of all races) who cheat on their spouses. But all King's done is slap an Oprah-friendly name on it; by now -- judging from his silly cover portrait -- he probably believes he's a patron of humanity on a par with Gandhi.
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