And furthermore, you suck!

On further reflection, the problem with Fast Company is not the silliness of pretending it’s not about Ducatis, or the unfortunate title (the same as the much-parodied business magazine) but that it’s simply a mediocre story, ill-structured and ill-told. I’ll accept less-than-stellar writing to read a really compelling story like Ultramarathon Man, and great writing can make anything seem interesting, like Paul Theroux’s account of being bored and drunk on the Trans-Siberian railway. But Gross manages neither. His memoir meanders through the moderately successful relaunch of the company and his frustrating relationship with a closeted boyfriend, then stops without ending: the boyfriend is still closeted, the company is muddling through, and Italy is still charmingly different from the US. The only things Gross learns are how to ride a bike and how to buy expensive custom shoes. His readers are even less well served: we don’t learn anything at all from his experience and are barely even entertained.

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