Star Struck Review
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Always a sucker for juicy Hollywood gossip, I couldn’t resist this thinly-veiled tell-all by America’s Canadian sweetheart, Pamela Anderson (and her not-so-secret co-author, Eric Shaw Quinn).

At the end of Anderson’s first book, Star, Star Wood Leigh was left pondering her future. Should she call the rock star who won’t seem to take no for an answer? Should she consider the film role she’s been offered? As Star Struck opens, it’s pretty clear that Star has made a few decisions—when she wakes up exhausted and naked, with a rock on her finger and a rocker in her bed. As Star and her new husband, Jimi Deed, begin their life together, they realize that their marriage has caused them to attract even more of a media frenzy. The pressure often gets to be too much for Star and Jimi, who take on an us-against-them attitude after one reporter gets a little too close to them on their honeymoon and ends up paying with his life. Once they return home to L.A., Jimi goes back to work with his band, Fools Brigade, while Star juggles her two TV shows, Hammer Time and Lifeguards Inc., with her upcoming movie, Hy Voltz—but the two still can’t seem to escape the constant attention of the media.

  
 
Star Struck is part autobiography-disguised-as-fiction, part fantasy. Anyone who’s glanced at the tabloid covers while waiting in line at the grocery store will realize that most of the story was taken directly from Anderson’s real life. Anderson goes into explicit detail about the most intimate moments of her—I mean Star’s—marriage. And I do mean explicit and intimate. Pam apparently felt the need to publish the transcripts of her infamous videotape with ex-husband Tommy Lee—for those who haven’t seen it. And, as if that weren’t enough, she keeps going—adding in a few pages of detailed advice, given by Star’s gay stylists. Combined, it’s enough to make any reader squirm.

Outside the sex scenes, the book is deliciously gossipy. Anyone who’s the least bit fascinated by the Hollywood lifestyle will be captivated. And the thinly-veiled references make reading it feel like a game of guess-who-she’s-talking-about.

Star Struck definitely isn’t a stunning work of literary fiction. The actual plot is weak and rather confusing—ending in a rushed conclusion that doesn’t seem to fit in with the rest of the story (perhaps because that part truly is fiction). But let’s be honest here. No one’s really going to pick up this book for the plot. And the dialogue may be pretty silly at times, but that’s not the point, either. Readers (those who can handle the adult content) will pick up this book for the same reason they pick up People: it’s a guilty pleasure. Anderson does exactly what her character tries to keep the paparazzi from doing—dishing the dirt. And that’s what makes it fun to read.

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