What a hoot! This tale of Peter Cavanaugh and Gibert Selwyn, two ambitious New York pals who find themselves entangled in the ridiculous schemes of not just one but TWO socialite/billionaire dynasties to ruin each other, is just what the blurbs promise: a thoroughly satisfying blend of farce, social satire, caper and camp.

The plot barely matters - all you need to know is that the cast of characters - besides Cavanaugh (a singularly unlucky librettist) and Selwyn (no fixed occupation) - includes a billionaire New York developer with abject taste and his former lounge-singer wife ("She can carry a tune, I'm just not sure how far"), his wife's brassy (and busty) little sister ("Her breasts jumped and strained at her low-cut gown as if they were puppies and she was taking them out for a walk"), a suave bit of British man-candy named Tommy seducing everyone in sight, a corrupt Italian vocal coach, posturing Hollywood stars and starlets, gossip columnists, socialites, a Geraldo-type "expose" talk show host, silly social causes, preposterous parties, obscenely over-decorated penthouses, insanely outfitted yachts, and a certain swimming pool with a retractable dance floor that ends up playing a memorable role towards the end. All served with a side of 1920s glamour (think Cole Porter, mink carpets, and New York's Rainbow Room) and topped by a froth of catty humor.

Those who might be wary of the hashtag #gay have nothing to fear here. Yes, our hapless heroes bat for the other team, as do many of the other male characters in the book, but there's nothing graphic and the theme blends nicely with the novel's whole irreverent attitude towards life, love, and loss.

A great read anytime and especially perfect for the beach, where no one questioned my frequent outbursts of laughter as I polished this off in an afternoon.

This is a sequel to Joe Keenan's Blue Heaven, but you don't have to have read that first to enjoy it. (You should, because it's great. But you don't have to.) As with the first one, the narrator, Philip Cavanaugh, finds himself going along with a very bad idea proposed to him by his friend Gilbert. This time, it involves two feuding billionaires, a high-society gal desperately dreaming of a glamorous singing career despite her less-than-glamorous voice, and a little amateur espionage. It then spirals wildly out of control from there.

The plot itself is lots of fun (even if parts of it do make me cringe a bit for some of the characters), but it's the execution that's truly brilliant. Keenan's writing is marvelously, hilariously witty; there were long stretches where I found myself laughing out loud at least once per page. It feels a little bit like P. G. Wodehouse, if Wodehouse had combined Jeeves' erudition and Bertie's tendency to get drawn into wacky schemes into one single character. And made him a gay songwriter in 1990s New York. ( )

Laugh-out-loud funny and so queer it hurts...but very little to scare off squeamish straight people, no graphic anything, and the main characters are all decorous to the point of pain until they get their slut on...off stage, so to speak. Delightful. ( )

Typically wack-o Joe Keenan adventure, full of good chuckles, nutty mix-ups, mistaken identities. A fun read. ( )