Playground by Jennifer Sagnior, its trash, pure trash, nothing redeeming, nothing liberating, nothing transgressive...its about her childhood in the playboy mansion and its the end point of both the brett easton ellis and jacquliene suzanne schools, there is a scene about half way through, where a playboy playmate fucks a 15 yr old school girl in the back of a limo some where on sunset, which may be the best "the decadence of our fucking is the decadence of america", but clean, like physique pictorials (or early playboys, really),

there is also some really awesome food fetish stuff, a weird choosing between heff and her father moment, some wonderful incest subtext, a dead european model who gets dumped after a coke overdose at an LA partyt, some whores, some fashion name dropping, an enormous amount of drugs, all slightly off (she talks about brands too early (prada in the 80s? and drugs too late (quallades in the 80s?)

i dont think its real (what ever that means, call it a postmodern excercise in personae building), i mean its written as a memoir of her and her dad (who was a plastic surgeon/internist/pharmacist/hefs private physican/drugdealer) but its like shes downloaded all possible texts about LA's horrors (boogie nights, valley of the dolls, rules of attraction, ms lonelyhearts, a diamond as big as the ritz, any number of lifetime movies of the week, every memoir, kenneth angers hollywood babylon)

the best thing is that it is written in this really blank, purposfully bad, warholian prose. both larry king and ben affleck