"A memoir, at its heart, is written in order to figure out who you are," writes Sean Wilsey, and indeed, Oh the Glory of it All is compelling proof of his exhaustive personal quest. It's no surprise that as a kid in the '80s, Wilsey found similarities between his own life and his beloved Lord of the Rings and Star Wars--his journey was fraught with unnerving characters too.

Wilsey's father was a distant, wealthy man who used a helicopter when a moped would do and whose mandates included squeegeeing the stall after every shower. Much of Wilsey's youth was spent as subservient to, or rebelling against this imposing man. But the maternal figures in Wilsey's childhood were no less affecting. His mother, a San Francisco society butterfly turned globe-trotting peace promoter, seemed to behave only in extremes--either trying to convince young Sean to commit suicide with her, or arranging impromptu meetings with the Pope and Mikhail Gorbachev. And Dede, his demon of a stepmother, would have made the Brothers Grimm shiver.

Unexpectedly moving

I bought the book hoping, somewhat voyeuristically, for an insider's view of San Francisco's high society, replete with scandals and revengeful details. Instead, I got absorbed in a startlingly honest, funny, and sad story of the author's life, so far. The author's wry humor often made me laugh out loud, and for me, the "happy ending" (of his writing and publishing the book) provided a reassuring "hero's journey" of long-last triumph over obstacles. The overall impact of the book, however, was one of deep sorrow about the human condition, a feeling that has lingered with me for days after finishing the book. Oddly, I feel saddest for the "evil stepmother."This is not because her deeds and character have been exposed in such an ugly light, but because the writer's plumbing of his own soul's depths left me wondering about the condition of hers. I've never quite bought the notion that "the rich suffer too" -- until now. Lastly, the book left me feeling more aware of the San Francisco Bay area's beauty, as lit by the author's gaze.

A Compelling Read

As a former San Francisco resident and social column reader, I bought this book thinking it may be interesting to read about the true life of the high and mighty San Francisco social scene. Instead what I got was one of the most compelling coming of age stories I have ever read. Even if I had never heard of these people, I still would have been caught up in the travails of Sean Wilsey. What a difficult, interesting life, and so very well written. Good for you Sean.

Oh, the freedom of the memoir form!

Oh, the freedom of the memoir form! You can name names, point fingers and choose details with absolute freedom, because, after all, it's your story. Sean Wilsey takes full advantage of the memoir's license to ill by penning a nearly 500-page poison pen letter to his stepmother. He's an excellent writer and "Glory of It All" makes fascinating reading. But plowing through this book is like a long day roaming the streets of New York in August: You get dirtier and dirtier until you just can't stand it any more and have to take a shower. I'd never heard of most of the people Wilsey mentions, but by the end I couldn't help but feel sorry for them. Especially as Wilsey is very selective in his venom: His mother is an adorably kooky free spirit who just happens to marry rich, but her replacement is the personification of all evil--who may have even killed her own dog! He also conveniently comes up with extended, verbatim recollections of stepmonster's failings -- scenes and conversations recorded by a 10-year-old self who presumably has perfect recall and the psychological insight of the ages. In all, Wilsey is the literary equivalent of a skilled US Weekly quipster or an artistically minded paparrazo: Good at what he does, but damn sleazy. Do you really want to spend any of your time on this planet reading this book?