After receiving threats from an unhinged young Internet suitor, aging actor Michael-David holes up in a downtown L.A. hotel to re-evaluate his career, a sudden disappearance that leaves in chaos a troubled film with little plot beyond a deadly trombone and a child raised by wolves. The director of this messy film is Chris Culpepper, a Scientologist with a cuckold fetish and an astounding nicotine addiction who seems to be losing both his wife and his mind. Hiding out, Michael-David meets Tim, a sexy young skateboarder, who quickly moves into his hotel suite and begins mixing up dangerous chemicals. Cox’s novel (after Krakow Melt) is at once a comic exposé of ego and neurosis and an insider-y look at the perils and pitfalls of fame, art, and Hollywood, where self-Googling, aging out of roles, and getting the right table at a restaurant are of paramount importance. Cox has a punchy, darkly humorous style that embraces the profane, but is still probing and exciting. (June)
