Two halves make a-hole

IN 2006, American writer Tucker Max published a collection of nonfiction stories that revolved around boozing and sex.

IN 2006, American writer Tucker Max published I Hope they Serve Beer in Hell, a collection of nonfiction stories that revolved around boozing and sex.

Max was hailed as a pioneer of "fratire", a masculine answer to chick lit, his book sold more than a million copies worldwide and was made into a film.

His follow-up, Assholes Finish First, is split into two sections. In the first we are in familiar territory as Max relives more sex-and-booze stories from his college days, taking us up to the release of his first book. The second section carried a self-explanatory title: "Post-Fame Sex Stories".

Max hasn't taken his rise to fame with particular grace: he details his early attempts to get published, describing how the stories that "eventually anchored" a No. 1 bestseller "got precisely ZERO interest from the very people whose only job is to discover new talent". Undiscouraged -- "I'm a narcissist and a genius, and I knew what I had on my hands" -- Max put the stories on his website for free, where their popularity soon attracted publishing houses.

While the genius tag is a bit much, Max has an immersive style that hurls the reader into the centre of the maelstrom. His writing has tightened up: there are fewer offhand comments, leaving more streamlined stories, told at a whirlwind pace.

The TuckerFest Story, the 60-page centrepiece, is the best example. It details Max's first sniff of celebrity in 2003: a road trip from Chicago to New Jersey to judge a bikini contest at a wrestling show.

Like Hunter S. Thompson's best work, the story soon becomes more about the trip than the destination, as the author and his travelling companions land in jail after drink-driving their 12m motorhome through Harlem. It's reckless, dangerous and hilarious.

Sex is but a footnote, and while this may seem odd it underlines a theme that became apparent in Max's first book: his real talents lie in crafting dialogue-heavy stories concerning a range of characters and series of ever-escalating events. Even so, Max's writing remains provocative to the point of polarisation. Read a sentence such as "Of all the types of women, I like sluts the best" and you'll either be aghast at the vulgarity or amused by the brazen absurdity.

Like Neil Strauss's bestseller The Game, the crux of Assholes lies not in the base premise -- in Strauss's case, endeavouring to become a pick-up artist; in Max's, detailing debauched tales -- but in the finer details. Max reportedly received a $300,000 advance for this book.

Dig beneath the boastful exterior, and his message is clear: work hard, seek excellence, believe in yourself, and you'll be rewarded handsomely.

Andrew McMillen is a Brisbane-based freelance journalist.