So Dubya's new book thingie is set to be released next Tuesday, but the NYT has the review today. I'm sure the review makes for better reading than its subject.
Certainly it’s the most casual of presidential memoirs: how many works in the genre start as a sort of evangelical, 12-step confession (“Could I continue to grow closer to the Almighty or was alcohol becoming my god?”), include some off-color jokes and conclude with an aside about dog poop?
The prose in “Decision Points” is utilitarian, the language staccato and blunt. Mr. Bush’s default mode is regular-guy-politico, and his moods vacillate mainly among the defensive and the diligent — frat boy irreverence, religious certainty and almost willful obliviousness.
I was one of the lucky few given the opportunity to get a sneak preview of the draft of a chapter, posted in its entirety here.