Good grief. I only made it halfway through Chapter 3 on this one. It’s supposed to be a somewhat fictionalized memoir of Jordan Belfort’s time on Wall Street at a chop shop. I love reading anything financial, particularly about trading and the financial climate during the Clinton administration and then post-Gramm-Leach-Bliley.
The prologue starts out promising–it’s the author on his first day at work and he’s like a fish out of water around all the cokeheads. However Ch. 1 jumps right ahead to 6 years after that, after he’s made his money and “converted to the dark side” if you will. By Ch. 3 he’s already gone into excruciating detail about Venice, some stripper he met, and his wife whatever-tf her name is (forgot already) and how irresistible she is. He describes her having “luscious, loamy loins” multiple times. WTF does loamy mean, I wonder? Well, per the Oxford English, loam means:
- a fertile soil of clay and sand containing humus.
- Geology a soil with roughly equal proportions of sand, silt, and clay.
- a paste of clay and water with sand, chopped straw, etc., used in making bricks and plastering walls
Allrighty then. (note: Apparently he stole this phrase from Tom Wolfe. Well, to hell with Tom Wolfe too, then, for such a stupid phrase).
Oh, he also mentions how he has all these nicknames (in 1993) about what a badass he is, in that list he includes Keyser Soze. Hey dumbass, Usual Suspects is from 1995. Who the hell published this book? Either he’s self published which explains the errors as noted above or his publisher finds him to be as much of a douche as I do.
Anyways, if you want to read more about Wall Street prior to 2008, read Matt Taibbi’s Griftopia. If you want to hear about highly privileged, low-functioning assholes, watch the Kardashians. They’ve got to be more entertaining than this schlock.