Confessions of an Idiot. Several, actually.

I don’t know what my readers will think of me after this, but I’ve got to be honest.

A couple weeks back I read (a library copy of) a book called Confessions of a Video Vixen. Ostensibly by a young woman named Karrine Steffans, but obviously written by a really bad ghostwriter, this book is intended, somehow, as a morality tale. Young woman grows up poor, becomes a stripper, lands herself some hip-hop celeb guys to sleep with… nothing good happens, then more nothing good happens, then even more nothing good happens. In the end, nothing good has happened.

Frankly, I’m ok with that. It seems to me that whatever woes Ms. Steffans (also known as Superhead) has suffered, with one possible exception (being raped as a teenager – no, she didn’t ask for that, but on the other hand, she put herself in a situation where it w as really really likely to happen, so… what gives, babe?), she basically asked to be shown her on a flimsy tin platter. All the better for the woes to topple off the platter and into her (scantily clad) lap. I don’t feel remotely bad for Superhead. I do feel bad for her child, though.

One thing that really infuriated me about this book – and boy, is this nitpicking, and anyone reading this is gonna be like, “This is what pisses you off?” – is that even the ghostwriter appears to be subliterate. This book is so poorly written it’s just shocking. Early in the book, Ms. Steffans claims to’ve found comfort and succor whilst reading the poems of Edgar Allan Poe, and specifically mentions two poems of his, “The Raven” and “Nevermore.”

Ok, my friends. I am not even going to really discuss why this is an idiotic thing to have in print. To be honest, I don’t expect Superhead to know what the fuck. But the ghostwriter – Karen Hunter – what the fuck was she thinking? Apparently she’s had quite the little career lately writing books for prominent Black figures – did that book On the Down Low about Black gay men, did some other thing for Al Sharpton – well and good – but Jesus fucking Christ, my friend… if you’re going to fucking namedrop, do it correctly, or don’t fucking do it at all.

Someone’s going to complain about my swearing, I’m sure; I’m not taking it out because I want to convey how totally aggravated I am by this. Weeks ago I read this book and it’s still bubbling around in my mind. Karen Hunter apparently teaches at Hunter College; she is responsible for molding young minds; and this is her idea of writing? It is a shande.

You’re probably wondering how a white girl such as I ended up reading this book. What on earth brought me to it? Well, it’s a funny thing. When I was working as the buyer for that little bookstore downtown, I remember very suddenly a lot of people who were not, shall we say, regular customers, started asking for this title about the Video Vixen. I had no idea what the hell it was, and had to go to Amazon.com to find out. My co-worker, M., as I recall, saw the book on the screen, looking over my shoulder, and screeched, “OOOOOOOOOOOO! It’s SUPERHEAD!”

She was extremely into popular culture in a way that I’d forgotten was possible. I think I turned 30 and that switch just went “off.” But anyway.

So M. was all excited. I rolled my eyes and ordered some copies of the book. Inevitably they sold. M. herself, along with a few other of my co-workers, actually borrowed a copy of the book from the store (we were allowed to do that; it was one of the very few perks of the job) and read it eagerly. I could not believe that these people, my co-workers, who, on the whole, I thought of as smart people with good taste in books, wanted to read what really looked like a piece of shit. But they did. I shrugged, at the time, and said “Whatever.”

But when I noticed the book on the shelf at the public library a few weeks back, I suddenly thought, “Gee, I’ll have a gander at that.” My husband was appalled when he saw the book on our kitchen table (“Why are you reading that????”). And it was a waste of time, certainly. But it was interesting – not for the reasons Superhead intended, but on a more sociological/anthropological level – and I’m not sorry that I spent the 1.5 hours it took to read the book. Confessions of a Video Vixen is certainly one of the worst books I’ve ever read, but it’s noteworthy for how it attains that status.

College professors, take note: an excellent assignment, particularly for professors in the fields of media or journalism,* might be to have your students rewrite Karrine Steffans autobiography so that it’s actually readable.

*this means you, Karen Hunter