Where: N/Q/R Platform, Brooklyn bound
Who was reading: A short, stout women wearing bright red lipstick, a black turban and a rather large brooch comprised of interlocking silver hoops.
Unlike those greedy Wall Street banks . . . this brooch was exactly the right size to fail.
But to "brooch" a new subject . . . The folks over at Viking call this "the definitive story of the most powerful men and women in finance and politics grappling with success and failure, ego and greed, and, ultimately, the fate of the world’s economy."
Awards? Accolades? The book received an 800-CEO-READ Business Book of the Year award (2009). And something called a "Loeb."
Does this mean anything to anyone? Probably Not.
But I don't get it! Why the lack of award-committee love? This book had everything, surely it deserved the Booker Prize, or at least the NBA. It was "the definitive story" of the banking crisis— there was a movie deal for crying out loud! And Sorkin was pretty huge in and of himself—a God among mortal authors. He was young, powerful and connected, there was no stopping him, he was far too big to . . . oh. Right.
Speaking of which (sort of). . . I wonder whether Sorkin referenced the Icarus/Dedalus myth in the book, and if so, how many times.