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by Jel D. Lewis Jones Paperback: 321 pages Reviewed by Kam WIlliams
In the wake of Michael Jackson's untimely passing, I'm sure his legions of devoted fans are looking for a way to keep his spirit alive. They would do well to consider picking up a copy of Michael Jackson: The King of Pop, a comprehensive anthology comprised of interviews, song lyrics, dozens of color and b&w photographs, and more. The literary equivalent of a bound fanzine, the book offers an uncritical peek at Jackson both from his own, self-serving perspective and that of the admittedly-adoring author. Despite her gushing, syrupy sweet tone, the tome is still fairly fascinating primarily because Michael comes off as a very sympathetic figure who clearly became bizarre because he never had a normal childhood. It's sort of like how a dog or a cat is worthless as a pet if it's weaned from its mother at too young an age. Consider Jackson's response when asked by a reporter from USA Today in 2001 whether he's �resentful that stardom stole his childhood. �Yeah, it's not anger, it's pain,� he admitted. �People see me at an amusement park or with other kids having fun, and they don�t stop and think, �He never had that chance when he was little.� I never had the chance to do the fun things kids do: sleepovers, parties, trick-or-treat. There was no Christmas, no holiday celebrating. So now you try to compensate for some of that loss.� In another article, Michael takes on the paparazzi, saying �The tabloid press are bastards, and you've got to have rhinoceros skin to deal with that ignorant mentality� They simply make it up� I'm nothing like the way the tabloids have painted me out to be, nothing� They�re the ones who are crazy.� He even sounds very convincing when he explains that his
trademark crotch-grabbing dancing �isn�t sexual at all.�
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