A more honest picture would be Madison shouting at the reader. It's hilarious that the cover photo shows Madison holding a finger to her lips, because she is holding nothing back here.
I wanted dirt, and hoooooly shit, readers, does Holly Madison deliver the dirt. But mostly I just wanted dirt on Hugh Hefner, the weird atmosphere of the Playboy Mansion, and the women who were paid to have sex with Hefner under the guise of "girlfriends." I read it because "behind-the-scenes look at trashy reality show" is one of my favorite memoir styles, and I've always been weirdly fascinated by mistresses, harems, harem culture, and the whole "what men think women do when they're not around vs. Underneath the surface, this is a scathing indictment of unfair beauty standards, the fear of female sexuality, and the entire goddamn patriarchy (and Madison, delightfully, seems blissfully unaware of the deeper implications of some of her observations about the unfairness of life at the Playboy Mansion - she's just mad that all these girls were so mean to her). Look, I'm not going to pretend that I had any good reason to read this book. Better yet: The Truth About Kettle: An Autobiography by Pot.
Or, as I called the book in my head, Everyone is a Whore Except Me and Here's Why.
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