The Way of the Male

To read Trakhtenberg, you have to be a cynic and/or a filthy aesthete. In principle, it’s decent prose and a candid autobiography.
The author’s speech—someone who can “jabber from the stage without stopping for exactly four hours”—flows easily, his vocabulary is enormous, and his sense of humor is peculiar, but many people like it. What he intends to “kill many birds with one stone” with this book—once again shocking everyone, earning even more fame, making a good deal of money—he doesn’t hide.
You see the whole path of a male: from a teenage boy’s all-consuming desire to peek at his classmates’ panties to cynical relationships with prostitutes. The author’s rich experience with women is heavily seasoned with advice from a seasoned guy like: “Male, remember!..” Sometimes following his adventures is interesting, often—funny, almost never dull, and not that particularly disgusting. It would be a lie to say you skim through this work with pursed lips. But your eyes also don’t burn.
It’s just that a smart, educated, well-read, well-mannered person who has turned himself into an enterprising showman has pulled off the “show-off” with considerable talent. And as for showboating, he knows what he’s doing.