Review by Publisher's Weekly Review
Originally published in 1982 but out-of-print for years, '70s television icon Barris's forgotten autobiography is being reissued to coincide with the December release of a major film adaptation. After two decades of relative obscurity, Barris's memoir may finally find an eager audience. Readers will probably best remember Barris as the creator and host of The Gong Show, but his rsum also includes such classic shows as The Dating Game and The Newlywed Game, as well as a hit song, "Palisades Park," and a New York Times bestselling book, You and Me Babe (1970). What will shock readers, however, is Barris's claim that, throughout his successful TV career, he was leading a double life as a decorated CIA assassin. While supposedly "scouting locations" to send his winning game show contestants, Barris was actually traveling to exotic locales to knock off America's Cold War foes. Or so he'd have readers believe. While far-fetched, the tension-filled scenes of Barris's supposed CIA activities provide an ingenious counterbalance to the story of his meandering personal life, the snarling critics who attacked Barris for dragging television into the gutter and hilarious recollections of how wholesome contestants would become inexplicably filthy once on the set of The Dating Game. Even though Barris's reputation as a wacky TV show host doomed this literary venture when it was originally published, it is in fact a remarkably well-crafted and entertaining book, both unflinchingly personal and at times laugh-out-loud funny. Twenty years later, it reads like a classic. (Nov.) (c) Copyright PWxyz, LLC. All rights reserved
(c) Copyright PWxyz, LLC. All rights reserved
Review by Library Journal Review
Don earphones. Shield delicate ears. Confessions of a Dangerous Mind has sex, violence, and obscenities. As with his zany old TV productions (The Dating Game, The Gong Show), Barris tries to entertain. He describes his avocation as a CIA hit man, creating suspense, except one faux Raymond Chandler bit. The complete text includes his hilarious chase to Lisbon after an American beauty, added raunch, spoofs, and more. Nick Sullivan's phrasing in the unabridged program is smooth, sometimes underplaying foul words. The condensed version loses some humor but retains the author's ego. Even so, he freely admits failures. Barris's narration does not underplay; his voice is rougher. Some unshockable adults will be taken in by behind-the-scenes TV and CIA stories in either one of these audiobooks. For popular biography collections, it's a qualified thumbs up.-Gordon Blackwell, Eastchester, NY (c) Copyright 2010. Library Journals LLC, a wholly owned subsidiary of Media Source, Inc. No redistribution permitted.
(c) Copyright Library Journals LLC, a wholly owned subsidiary of Media Source, Inc. No redistribution permitted.
Review by Kirkus Book Review
Originally billed as non-fiction, then emphatically switched to the ""fiction"" category, this distasteful little book does indeed seem to be an ill-bred hybrid: game-show producer Barris' reminiscences about the joys and headaches of such as The Dating Game and The Gong Show; his foul-mouthed musings on his unlovely sex life; plus his intermittent confessions about a secret-life through the years as a CIA hit-man. Sheer fantasy? So one would like to think--though Barris delivers brief, unconvincing accounts of his ""missions"" with a straight face: he kills a trade unionist in Mexico, rival spies in London and Germany, is hunted by KGB assassins in the US, finally exposes (and kills)an elusive CIA mole. (""True, the bureaucracy of the agency would always drive me up a wall, but being a hit man was a fascinating avocation--an unbelievably exciting pastime."") But, aside from this creepy put-on, the material here is only for dedicated fans of Barris' shows or members of the immediate family. He recalls, somewhat amusingly, the unusable off-color remarks on early Dating Game episodes; he whines about his critics; he allows the obscene Popsicle Twins to appear on The Gong Show. (The NBC president yells: ""I want fucking ratings, not fucking cocksuckers!"") And he indulges his limitless loathing for his various bedmates, with ""sleazebag"" among the more tender epithets. A slimy exercise in self-indulgence and self-promotion--but don't underestimate the low taste and vast gullibility of the same TV audience that made Barris a millionaire. Copyright ©Kirkus Reviews, used with permission.
Copyright (c) Kirkus Reviews, used with permission.
Review by Publisher's Weekly Review
Review by Library Journal Review
Review by Kirkus Book Review