I really enjoyed this book as a teenager, today i read it and find it irritating, conceited.

I know there is some genious and art but its supported by post facto fame. If the artist had not been well known i am not sure he would have writ this text. ( )

he has a great sense of humor ( )

Andy Warhol is a very strange man, so it is not very much of a surprise that his novel (I use the term novel loosely) is rather strange as well. The 15 hapters are divided into themes - such as Love, Fame, and Underwear Power - which Warhol extrapolates upon at length. Some of his musings are extremely clever and amusing, but I found that his discussion became quite tedior as the book carried on. It may be just the lack of interesting themes (sorry, but the "Tingle" chapter on cleaning is quite dull), but the format (that of discussions between himself and "B") is rather trite and not at all engaging. At least there are some hilarious quotes in the early chapters, and the single line of the Death chapter is highly memorable. ( )

In The Philosophy of Andy Warhol—which, with the subtitle "(From A to B and Back Again)," is less a memoir than a collection of riffs and reflections—he talks about love, sex, food, beauty, fame, work, money, and success; about New York, America, and his childhood in McKeesport, Pennsylvania; about his good times and bad in New York, the explosion of his career in the sixties, and his life among celebrities.

I am glad to have experienced an Andy Warhol exhibition in Hong Kong a few years ago to provide some context to this work. Despite my initial trepidation, I found myself intrigued. Warhol seems to me to be Freudian in that he says what we all think but are afraid to say. Either that or I have a similar problem. Does it take one self-centred person to enjoy another self-centered person? Warhol has led me to read Freud and Truman Capote. But increasingly, I fear I am running out of time to read what I wish to read in my remaining lifetime. ( )