by FREDERIC BEIGBEDER
What first caught my eye about this little beauty of a novel was its price, which also cleverly doubles for the title. Written by Frenchman Frederic Beigbeder (not that his forename is much of a giveaway, is it?), the original version was set in his native country and has since had its location seamlessly transposed from gay Paris straight to London since the book has been translated for readers� consumption around the rest of the English-speaking world.
As far as I can tell, Frederic really did used to work in the cut-throat, big bucks biz of advertising, admitting that �No one in my profession actually wants you to be happy, because happy people don�t spend.� That�s not all: �The advertisers don�t want to make your brain work, they want to turn you into sheep. One day they�ll tattoo a bar code on your wrist. They know that the only power you have is in your debit cards. They need to stop you choosing. They have to transform your every action into the act of buying.� It�s futile to revoke his opinions, it really is. �No one any longer has the courage to offer you something that you might not like. That�s what�s killing off innovation, originality, creativity and rebellion.�
��9.99� is essentially a no-holds-barred expose of the industry which lays bare his utter contempt for the way it operates and the people at the top who operate it with just one thing in mind� and that�s making as much wonga as Willy could Wonka over. Having said that, the fact that �the story� incorporates a murderous sub-plot - with the author a prime accomplice in the crime - seems to jar the book�s �truth, and nothing but the truth� credibility for me (hey, I still believe that the �Blair Witch Project� movie is 100% authentic), though that doesn�t blunt the bruising impact it has.
Deftly, author Fred also drafts in some frankly astonishing figures into the bank-busting bargain: �The global investment in advertising in 1998 was �234 billion. At that sort of price, everything is for sale �especially your soul.�
Within its 259 easy-to-read pages there is plenty of scope for plenty of companies to sue Frederic for what he was to say about them, none more so than the yogurt company Yoplite. The fact that he was to come up with a TV ad to market the product makes for the crux of his ranting and raving, his cutting cynicism often reminding of Generation X�s author Douglas Coupland and his dry humour. Indeed, �It has to be said that what goes on on the surface of this little planet is not very important on a galactic scale. The writings of an earthling will be read only by other earthlings. The other galaxies probably couldn�t care less that Microsoft�s annual turnover is equivalent to the GNP of Belgium and that Bill Gates� personal fortune is estimated at $100 billion. You work, you become attached to other beings, you come to love a few places, but all you�re doing is jumping up and down on a little pebble spinning in the dark.� Gee, that kind of puts life and love in harsh perspective, don�t it?� and proves that while this is something of an insider�s guide to advertising, this is also a novel that dares to make brave sweeping statements and is happy to philosophize.
As Frederic�s work progresses on the TV ad, he becomes involved with the lady who�s to appear in it, Tamara, with whom he has an affair whilst questioning how love and lust differ, if at all. �Love hasn�t got anything to do with the heart, the heart�s a disgusting organ, a sort of pump full of blood. Love is primarily concerned with the lungs.� Yet deeper in, he ponders �Why does anything romantic make us feel so uncomfortable? We�re ashamed of our emotions.�
In a way, Beigbeder plays out his career like the McMurphy character does in �One Flew Over The Cuckoo�s Nest�: he�s his own man, that�s for sure� Similarly, he asks: �Do you know the difference between the rich and the poor? The poor sell drugs so that they can buy Nikes whereas the rich sell Nikes so that they can buy drugs.�
Never ever mincing one single word, Frederic Beigbeder is a frankly brilliant writer who � in this instance � hates his work, and thankfully loves to tell everyone exactly why that is so with unnerving levels of inhibition. Amen.
(Steve Rudd)
ISBN 0-330-49007-9
www.picador.com