The New Yorker has a rambling piece on how author Dan Mallory is full of it. Bottom line: if someone is a liar, they aren’t all that interesting or warrant that much colour and filler.
That we have fiction authors bullshit about their lives is hardly anything new.
When you go for melodramatic bullshit stories, you are going to get hosed for eternity. The end.
Spinning yarns gets you lucrative contracts, and Mallory knows the game well.
He also knows that you can spin a story to deflect the accusations, and go on.
Vox, a publication for morons addicted to sophistry, loved the New Yorker puke-a-thon,
The greatest thriller I have read this year is not a book. It’s a new article in the New Yorker by Ian Parker about the editor and author Dan Mallory, and it is filled with so many twists and turns, such scheming and brazen lies, that it eclipses fiction. It definitely eclipses Mallory’s 2018 novel The Woman in the Window — written under the pen name A.J. Finn — which is a competent but paint-by-numbers thriller that is substantially less interesting than Mallory’s real-life story appears to be.
Honestly, if that is the “greatest” anything you have read so far in 2019, you are sheltered idiot. Go get some real life experience.
This isn’t a story to build up: this is a story to tear down. A man gets ahead in a lucrative career by conning people at work. Just the facts. Figure out how it happened and where the breakdowns are.
There is no “thriller” here. What you have is deceit.
This is the precise why journalists constantly get conned: they honestly believe sophistry, color, and babbling make a good story.
You are building up destructive people, making them sound more interesting than they are, and that makes you no less deceptive than the subject you are rambling about.
Please shut up, and try you article again…