This is a fascinating look into what happens to people who become famous and then lose the media attention and perks. I thought I knew about a lot of the former celebrities the book uses to explore life "in the aftermath of fame," but this book shows that what's widely believed about celebrities is usually only half the story. I thought for example that Susan McDougal went to prison rather than tell all she knew about President Clinton, but the truth is actually far more complicated than that. I didn't know anything about a few of the subjects, like baseball player Maury Wills and boxer Gerry Cooney, and this book offers vivid portraits that serve as excellent introduction. The story that's most fascinating is Melvin Dummar's. He's the guy who says he picked up Howard Hughes in the desert and that's why he was included in Hughes' purported will. Dummar's faith that fame alone would make his life better is sad and poignant, especially since that's what so many people think today about fame. The Sixteenth Minute is very well written, with compassion and humor, and tells a lot about how our expectations for celebrity in this media age are totally out of whack.

I've long been intrigued with the concept of fame and - more to the point - life in its aftermath. The Beatles were in their early 30's when their spectacularly productive ten-year run ended. And while none of the Fab Four ever stopped being recognized celebrities as post-Beatles, it's also obvious that none of their solo work matched the brilliance of the music they wrote as twenty year olds. What's it like to the live the rest of your life in the shadow of your youth? What's it like when your greatest achievemnts -- the best work of your life -- occurred in your 20's, and the next 60 years of life are marked by mediocrity, if that? Paul McCartney is in his 60's now. That's 40 years of being famous and answerinng for something he did as a kid. The Beatles are a little unusual, as they are uber-stars. But what about those who truly came and went? Whether a musician, an athlete, or an actor: Is it better to taste celebrity/fame once -- even if only briefly -- and then to lose it? Or is it better to never have tasted it at all? I was so looking forward to this book and the promise that it could mine the depths of post-fame loss, depression, identity confusion, etc. (Ever watch Vh1's Bands Reunited? I love seeing these former rock stars pumping gas or waiting tables; you can sense their sorrow and confusion. What do you do one you are no longer a rock star? go back to college? go to work for IBM? ) Unfortunately, this book spends much of the time focusing on the famed life and accomplishments of the seven-featured celebrities (who are minor celebrities at best) rather than "life after fame." Certainly no great revelations or candid insights here. It's mostly mini-bios of these people's lives, with far less attention paid to life in the "sixteenth minute." Who cares about what they did. What are they doing NOW! Plus, what a strange selection of people to profile? My guess is that the authors sought out former "celebrities" who were still alive so they could interview them (both authors are reporters). Unfortunately, these living post-celebrities are still invested in nurturing their legacy and places in history, a sort of twilight celebrity. This means they're not going to reveal much beyond how humble and modest their lives are now. Might have been better to do a more historical book on stars/public figures who really struggled in their later years, like Orson Wells, Richard Nixon, etc. If one's identity and self-worth is based solely on one's standing in the public eye, what does a person do when that fame abrubtly ends?? What's it like to be so recognized and so loved one day, then so unnoticed and forgettable the next? So many people struggle to become famous, most in vain. But what about the folks who tasted it and lost it? I so long for a real study on this fascinating topic. Unfortunately, this book just isn't it.