Happy Hour is for Amateurs: Work Sucks. Life Doesn't Have to. [Paperback]

Half-memoir, half-gonzo, Happy Hour Is For Amateurs is greater than the sum of its autobiographical parts. Ultimately, the book is a morality play; the deadly sins are sacrificing happiness for a paycheck and perpetuating the status quo in a morally bankrupt industry.

Some readers may object to the author's profanity and depiction of drug and alcohol use--of course, some readers call Mark Twain "racist" and Aldous Huxley "immoral." In other words, if you have a weak constitution or delicate sensibilities, this book probably isn't for you.

This book is for: (1) every worker who's ever felt like a cog or an itinerant, (2) every person who thinks, "this is as good as it gets for me," and (3) anyone who enjoys funny, insightful writing on topics most people can relate to. From the book: "There's an accidental wisdom in following. Letting something else define you narrows the decisions you have to make. It gives you parameters, a track to follow and a holiday from all the angst that comes with carving your own path." `Following' is exactly what some people need--this book is for everyone else.

Happy Hour Is For Amateurs is not a book about being a lawyer, it's a book about being unsatisfied with what you do. (Though it's completely, depressingly accurate if you want to know what the actual practice of law is like for the majority of attorneys.) It's about settling and the push-pull of childhood dreams--and adult dreams--against the weight of responsibility and expectations. Philalawyer escaped, and most of us haven't, a fact sure to generate equal measures of envy and hostility. Either way, this book is compulsory reading for every disaffected office monkey, every fungible bureaucrat.

The writing is always serviceable and frequently soars. Some readers may quibble with the non-linear style--but this isn't a novel, and each chapter contributes something important on the way to understanding the overall ethic of the author. The momentum slows very occasionally, but the humor underlying each vignette is more than enough to
excuse the occasional digression.

Lawyers, in particular, will nod their heads in agreement or sympathy throughout Philalawyer's book. Equity partners in big law firms might not get it, and associates on the same track will probably ignore it. The rest of us will say, "Thank you," and buy him a drink.

The introductory author's note concludes with Sergeant Hulka's memorable line from Stripes "Lighten up, Francis" and it sets the tone for what's to come. Occasionally, pre-release examination copies will cross my desk, but this was the first book to inspire me to jump on Amazon and write a review.

Happy Hour is for Amateurs is not for everyone. If you're easily offended, you might do better to avoid the book. More importantly, if you rely on cognitive dissonance to get through 9-5 life, then the book might shake your fragile mental farce a little too violently.

Philadelphia Lawyer tells the story of a young man fresh out of college who is beaten down over the course of a decade in the legal profession. The lines between work and play, misery and happiness are often blurred, and each chapter is a slightly different take following an overarching theme of discontent leading to self-actualization. Perhaps the author's greatest strength is his ability to maintain a fast-paced, page-turning plot while interspersing insightful anecdotes that put into words all the random thoughts I've had about corporate culture, leaving me wondering "why the hell didn't I write this?" Yet, at the same time, I realize that it takes great craft to make life's mundanity compelling.

Philadelphia Lawyer writes like a man who isn't afraid to write. So often writers are concerned with what others might think; what literary conventions or technicalities to abide by in order to appeal to a certain crowd, but in this book the language comes relentless and unrestrained. Pop culture references from the last half century blend seamlessly with serious deliberations on legal culture and its implications on sanity. Finally, somebody is writing in an honest way about the world the forty and under population grew up in.

Immersed in a mass of workaholic drones all too eager to bill their way to the top, the narrator turns to mind-altering substances to cope with his sad reality. His sexual exploits left me laughing and cringing all at once, but the trick is Philadelphia Lawyer tells the story like you're in on the joke. One doesn't have to identify exactly with his debauchery, but instead with the potential of that act's occurrence. That maybe, if the stars had aligned differently, it might have been me running from the cops in a blizzard - merely entertaining the thought reminds us that the world isn't as serious as everyone seems to make it out to be.

Our egos are padded from childhood to make us believe there is a greater purpose behind all our actions. Despite what we're led to believe sometimes life really is a ridiculous charade - the only purpose being that there is none. Everybody has to earn a paycheck, and the need for food and shelter is a real one. Somehow in our drive to provide, we start taking everything serious. We forget how to take a joke and laugh at ourselves. Philadelphia Lawyer reminds us that enjoying the ride is more important than the end goal.

The sad truth is that without the humor, the subject would be an unbearable read. Hardly a page goes by without negative adjectives such as "rotten" "awful" "terrible" or "atrocious." As someone unaccustomed to the legal climate, the daily drudgery experienced within the plot really begin to wear. Just when I think "this can't possible get any worse" it does. I imagine lawyers may find themselves offended, but if so, they are missing the point. Philadelphia Lawyer does not blame the players, he blames a corrupt and immoral game. Nonetheless the players - whether a thirty year old gunner looking for the next promotion or a twenty-something drug dealer looking to latch on to anything - are held responsible for their own existence.

Among all the vulgarity and belligerence there is a very real message communicated. That message will resonate differently with everyone, but "do what you love and love what you do" sums it up nicely for me. Unfortunately it takes the legal profession, a concentrated embodiment of every occupational evil, to demonstrate what we're all failing to see. The end goal of life isn't to die.

For a first effort, it's no wonder Philadelphia Lawyer is already making waves in the legal and publishing community. A fresh voice that has emerged from a thankless, empty lifestyle with something to offer all of us. Happy Hour is for Amateurs is a book I recommend to anyone that's ever sat in a pub and complained about their day.

And Francis, before you get all worked up and self-righteous, remember: if you can't laugh at yourself, then everyone else will do it for you.

This was an enormously entertaining book.

But before I jump into the superlatives, I think it's important to make a distinction between this book and the other bourbon-soaked tales of anal sex and professionally hazardous hangovers that this emerging genre has seen over the past few years. This book is more than the sum of its drugs, fornication and booze - it is a crushing social critique of a respected profession and of thousands of its practitioners. The author attacks the American legal system as a complicit antihero, publishing a decade worth of subversion. He portrays the frenetic courtroom, the golden shackles that bind him to his work and the familiar (for some of us) haze of substance abuse. Based on 10 years that would have driven most to a Xanax prescription, he manages to write one of the funniest books I've ever read.

And that's really what matters, right? Sure, there are strokes of brilliance and the sort of introspection that makes you want to step back and re-examine your own life. But there is also a swimsuit model trying to shoot herself in the face with a taser, a hockey team locked in the back of a Uhaul with a keg and few naked lesbians thrown in for good measure. And that's what life should be about.

Formulating my thoughts on this book took me a little while. This is due in part, I feel, to the author's willful disregard for the molds I like to fit books into. It's refreshing to read books like this - ones that challenge you. Fortunately, for all its complexity, it never loses itself; the tangents of the narrative never detract from the point. It is painfully funny and brutally honest; the sordid confession from a man who is not the least bit sorry.

I recommend it wholeheartedly.