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The Last Magazine
“The funniest, most savage takedown of the American news media since Fear and On the Campaign Trail ’72.”—The Washington PostMichael Hastings’ untimely death at the age of thirty-three rocked the journalism community. But the New York Times bestselling author of The Operators left behind an unexpected a wickedly funny novel based on Hastings’s own journalistic experiences in the mid-2000s. Discovered in his files, the novel features a wet-behind-the-ears intern named Michael M. Hastings who must choose between his career and the truth. A searing portrait of print journalism’s last glory days, The Last Magazine earned Hastings comparisons to Evelyn Waugh and Hunter S. Thompson and stands as a testament to one of America’s most treasured reporters.
338 pages, Kindle Edition
First published June 17, 2014
About the author
Michael Hastings
55 books74 followersMichael Hastings was a contributing editor to Rolling Stone. Over a five year span, he regularly covered the wars in Iraq and Afghanistan. He started his career at Newsweek magazine in 2002, and was named the magazine’s Baghdad correspondent in 2005. In 2008, he reported on the U.S. presidential elections for Newsweek. His work has appeared in GQ, The Washington Post, the L.A. Times, Slate, Salon, Foreign Policy, The Daily Beast, The Huffington Post, and a number of other publications. In 2011, he was awarded the George Polk Award for magazine reporting for his story in Rolling Stone, “The Runaway General.” In 2010, he was named one of Huffington Post’s Game Changers of the year. In 2009, his story Obama’s War, published in GQ, was selected for the Best American Political Writing 2009 anthology (Public Affairs, 2009). He is the author of I Lost My Love in Baghdad: A Modern War Story(Scribner, 2008) and The Operators: The Wild and Terrifying Inside Story of America’s War in Afghanistan(Little Brown, 2011).
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June 17, 2014
Best book I've read all year--by a country mile.
I blurbed this book, so I'll start with that, then expand:
That voice. That witty, subversive voice we thought we'd lost, is back for one last romp. Hastings decodes the culture even more incisively in fiction, with wild bursts of imaginative mischief. So damn funny.
Too salesy? I hope not. So much to pack in there, and especially, I wanted to convey the giddiness I felt snickering my way through.
I could hardly believe it. I missed Mike desperately, and there was everything I loved about him, everything that made him so special, the one living journalist I most looked up to, captured vividly on the page.
So there's my disclaimer: Mike was a friend. Stop there if you think I'm too biased. But it affected me deeply as a writer, and as someone working in a version of the same field, frequently appalled and furious at the profession.
As I've raved about the book pre-publication, I've found myself confessing that it's hard to be objective, but that's not actually true: My writer friends and I exchange work all the time, and they shudder at my critiques. I'm harsh and demanding, especially from those I respect most, and to be honest, I was terrified to read this: What if Mike couldn't pull off fiction? What if it wasn't his best work?
I never dreamed that it would literally be his best work. In my opinion, it is. If you thought you loved his voice in nonfiction, when he was still constrained by the form, wait to you hear him unshackled and unfettered in fiction. Kind of glorious to behold.
God, I wish he'd plunged into fiction deeper, sooner.
This book is described as a satire of the media, and at least 2/3 of it is, brilliantly, but it's so much more. One by one, he takes us deep inside so many cultural institutions, and shows us how absurdly they operate: war, media, even a hilarious bit on the airlines that had me howling and nodding. (pp. 29-31. That's when I knew that I was unabashedly in love with this book. Try that if you're looking for an excerpt. Search the phrase, "A.E. Peoria sits in first class..."
Every page I was nodding, because Mike had this incredible cultural x-ray sort of capacity to see right through the fog of cultural wars, take us readers right past all that, into the inside to see how it operates: who is pulling the levers and why.
The scary part for me, as a writer, was 1/3 of the way through, I set the book down, and had a serious argument with myself about whether I had to stop reading. The war sections were covering the same ground as my next book, and I was starting to feel panicky that I couldn't match it. (That debilitating intimidation has happened to me exactly twice before: reading "In Cold Blood" while writing "Columbine," and rereading "All Quiet On The Western Front" while working on my soldiers' book. And now "The Last Magazine." Pretty lofty company.)
That was my actual experience reading this--so I'm pretty sure I was feeling more than just admiration for a friend. (FYI, the war receded as a primary focus as the novel progressed, but I didn't know that at the time. And for the record, I got over the intimidation each time. But it fucked with me.)
This novel is a mischievous and cutting satire, and boy does Mike lay the media bare. You may think you've seen that before, because Jon Stewart and Stephen Colbert have been masterfully eviscerating it nightly. But those guys are skewering the media from the outside. They've got TVs lined up in the writers' rooms watching CNN and Fox and MSNBC like the rest of us. They can and do tell us HOW the media is fucking it up, but if you want to understand WHY all that perplexing sewage keeps spilling out, you need an insider. Mike lived it. Mike inhabited that self-perpetuating bullshit machinery. And here he's laying it bare.
People assume it's all about ratings, but that doesn't explain the half of it. Fuck the show's ratings, or the magazine sales, it's about PERSONAL stature. It's about opportunism, cowardice, personality branding. All of that comes to life in this book. It's about clever use of a question mark. I don't want to go any further without a spoiler, but there is an amazing use of a question mark in a crucial headline in this book that reveals so much about how a news organization can shamelessly, selfishly beat the drum for and against the same war.
Mike had an amazing eye for the telling detail, and a keen bullshit-detector.
So if you were offended by my use of "fuck" up there, this book might not be for you. It is not polite. Sometimes ruthless, even savage, but always dead-on. Mike illustrates a pitch-perfect ear for voice and dialogue and It's all rendered beautifully, through the eyes of (mostly) young men, who are not mincing words, or acting delicately.
There are a handful of pretty wild, graphic sexcapades, which for me, beautifully colored the life of these characters--and while avoiding spoilers, a certain juxtaposition of war, porn and news is deftly handled and revealing about all three, as well as the young men engaging in them.
If that's going to offend you, be prepared to skip a few pages, or skip this book. It's pretty damn gonzo. If you hate gonzo, you know who you are. If you hated Denis Johnson's "Jesus' Son," don't even consider this.
The book is not flawless. I could live without some of the interludes, the Thai sex scene went on too long, and I would have loved more introspection in the last 30 pages (Part VII), which were too plot-focused for my taste. In time, I think it will be viewed as an imperfect gem.
"Jesus' Son" is my favorite novel written in my time, and I kept recalling it as I read: in the brutal honesty and vivid insights each book captured about its characters. Also, I was reminded of "A Visit from the Goon Squad" (which I'm still reading, and LOVING), for the same reason, particularly the feeling and intensity of youngish artists (writers, musicians, whatever), and perhaps particularly in NYC at this moment in time. The tormented inner lives of the "fictional" Hastings and especially the A.E. Peoria he was projecting himself growing into--Peoria's fears, aspirations, his shaky identity as a magazine writer and the tenuous nature of making both your living and your hopeful contribution by typing shit on a screen ... These characters were so powerful and so real, it felt like someone had been listening in to all the conversations in my head.
That was unsettling for me. The passage on p. 240, when "Hastings" (the first-person narrator) says about Peoria, "Yes, the career had been his life...his id, his ego, and his soul. He didn't know it at the time. ... He just took pills and got drunk and ..." And then he made one mistake...
God, it sounded like Mike had been listening into the arguments in my head. But he wrote it before he met me. Is this what all writers feel? All artists? Just certain kinds? I had no idea Mike was so haunted by the myth of Icarus, leaping out at him from among all the Greek myths, just as it did for me. For you? I actually hope to hear from other writers and artists about their reactions. (Perhaps in the comments?)
For me, personally, this was as much a portrait of two earnest but ambitious young artists trying to make a lasting impact on the world--and how that can run horribly astray.
It's a brilliant take-down of the media, too, for sure, but don't miss the richer personal story a quarter inch beneath the surface. This is an Icarus tale.
It's consistently witty and insightful and it's immediately so there. Just a stunning piece of work. Best book I've read all year.
I blurbed this book, so I'll start with that, then expand:
That voice. That witty, subversive voice we thought we'd lost, is back for one last romp. Hastings decodes the culture even more incisively in fiction, with wild bursts of imaginative mischief. So damn funny.
Too salesy? I hope not. So much to pack in there, and especially, I wanted to convey the giddiness I felt snickering my way through.
I could hardly believe it. I missed Mike desperately, and there was everything I loved about him, everything that made him so special, the one living journalist I most looked up to, captured vividly on the page.
So there's my disclaimer: Mike was a friend. Stop there if you think I'm too biased. But it affected me deeply as a writer, and as someone working in a version of the same field, frequently appalled and furious at the profession.
As I've raved about the book pre-publication, I've found myself confessing that it's hard to be objective, but that's not actually true: My writer friends and I exchange work all the time, and they shudder at my critiques. I'm harsh and demanding, especially from those I respect most, and to be honest, I was terrified to read this: What if Mike couldn't pull off fiction? What if it wasn't his best work?
I never dreamed that it would literally be his best work. In my opinion, it is. If you thought you loved his voice in nonfiction, when he was still constrained by the form, wait to you hear him unshackled and unfettered in fiction. Kind of glorious to behold.
God, I wish he'd plunged into fiction deeper, sooner.
This book is described as a satire of the media, and at least 2/3 of it is, brilliantly, but it's so much more. One by one, he takes us deep inside so many cultural institutions, and shows us how absurdly they operate: war, media, even a hilarious bit on the airlines that had me howling and nodding. (pp. 29-31. That's when I knew that I was unabashedly in love with this book. Try that if you're looking for an excerpt. Search the phrase, "A.E. Peoria sits in first class..."
Every page I was nodding, because Mike had this incredible cultural x-ray sort of capacity to see right through the fog of cultural wars, take us readers right past all that, into the inside to see how it operates: who is pulling the levers and why.
The scary part for me, as a writer, was 1/3 of the way through, I set the book down, and had a serious argument with myself about whether I had to stop reading. The war sections were covering the same ground as my next book, and I was starting to feel panicky that I couldn't match it. (That debilitating intimidation has happened to me exactly twice before: reading "In Cold Blood" while writing "Columbine," and rereading "All Quiet On The Western Front" while working on my soldiers' book. And now "The Last Magazine." Pretty lofty company.)
That was my actual experience reading this--so I'm pretty sure I was feeling more than just admiration for a friend. (FYI, the war receded as a primary focus as the novel progressed, but I didn't know that at the time. And for the record, I got over the intimidation each time. But it fucked with me.)
This novel is a mischievous and cutting satire, and boy does Mike lay the media bare. You may think you've seen that before, because Jon Stewart and Stephen Colbert have been masterfully eviscerating it nightly. But those guys are skewering the media from the outside. They've got TVs lined up in the writers' rooms watching CNN and Fox and MSNBC like the rest of us. They can and do tell us HOW the media is fucking it up, but if you want to understand WHY all that perplexing sewage keeps spilling out, you need an insider. Mike lived it. Mike inhabited that self-perpetuating bullshit machinery. And here he's laying it bare.
People assume it's all about ratings, but that doesn't explain the half of it. Fuck the show's ratings, or the magazine sales, it's about PERSONAL stature. It's about opportunism, cowardice, personality branding. All of that comes to life in this book. It's about clever use of a question mark. I don't want to go any further without a spoiler, but there is an amazing use of a question mark in a crucial headline in this book that reveals so much about how a news organization can shamelessly, selfishly beat the drum for and against the same war.
Mike had an amazing eye for the telling detail, and a keen bullshit-detector.
So if you were offended by my use of "fuck" up there, this book might not be for you. It is not polite. Sometimes ruthless, even savage, but always dead-on. Mike illustrates a pitch-perfect ear for voice and dialogue and It's all rendered beautifully, through the eyes of (mostly) young men, who are not mincing words, or acting delicately.
There are a handful of pretty wild, graphic sexcapades, which for me, beautifully colored the life of these characters--and while avoiding spoilers, a certain juxtaposition of war, porn and news is deftly handled and revealing about all three, as well as the young men engaging in them.
If that's going to offend you, be prepared to skip a few pages, or skip this book. It's pretty damn gonzo. If you hate gonzo, you know who you are. If you hated Denis Johnson's "Jesus' Son," don't even consider this.
The book is not flawless. I could live without some of the interludes, the Thai sex scene went on too long, and I would have loved more introspection in the last 30 pages (Part VII), which were too plot-focused for my taste. In time, I think it will be viewed as an imperfect gem.
"Jesus' Son" is my favorite novel written in my time, and I kept recalling it as I read: in the brutal honesty and vivid insights each book captured about its characters. Also, I was reminded of "A Visit from the Goon Squad" (which I'm still reading, and LOVING), for the same reason, particularly the feeling and intensity of youngish artists (writers, musicians, whatever), and perhaps particularly in NYC at this moment in time. The tormented inner lives of the "fictional" Hastings and especially the A.E. Peoria he was projecting himself growing into--Peoria's fears, aspirations, his shaky identity as a magazine writer and the tenuous nature of making both your living and your hopeful contribution by typing shit on a screen ... These characters were so powerful and so real, it felt like someone had been listening in to all the conversations in my head.
That was unsettling for me. The passage on p. 240, when "Hastings" (the first-person narrator) says about Peoria, "Yes, the career had been his life...his id, his ego, and his soul. He didn't know it at the time. ... He just took pills and got drunk and ..." And then he made one mistake...
God, it sounded like Mike had been listening into the arguments in my head. But he wrote it before he met me. Is this what all writers feel? All artists? Just certain kinds? I had no idea Mike was so haunted by the myth of Icarus, leaping out at him from among all the Greek myths, just as it did for me. For you? I actually hope to hear from other writers and artists about their reactions. (Perhaps in the comments?)
For me, personally, this was as much a portrait of two earnest but ambitious young artists trying to make a lasting impact on the world--and how that can run horribly astray.
It's a brilliant take-down of the media, too, for sure, but don't miss the richer personal story a quarter inch beneath the surface. This is an Icarus tale.
It's consistently witty and insightful and it's immediately so there. Just a stunning piece of work. Best book I've read all year.
February 11, 2016
“I grew up reading Holocaust literature at the beach, Gulag literature on winter holidays, Vietnam memoirs on spring break.”
― Michael Hastings, The Last Magazine
One of my big regrets over the last couple years is that I never met Michael Hastings. He wrote some of the great long-form journalism pieces for Rolling Stone during the last decade (The Runaway General & Bowe Bergdahl: America's Last Prisoner of War*). Hastings' genius was a combination of gonzo passion with the ability to laser-in on stories months or years before they became news.
'The Last Magazine' gives us an energized, barely fictionalized, account of Michael Hastings' time at Newsweek. There is Nishant Patel & Sanders Berman (read Fareed Zakaria & Jon Meacham). There is sex. There is hackery. There's plenty of politics and porn, transvestites & bottom feeders. There are even twin narrators. Two sides of Michael Hastings. There is Michael Hastings the naive intern and A. E. Peoria the jaded combat vet who seems to have an inevitable destiny with self-destruction.
This is a novel that belongs, perhaps not next to, but on the same shelf as Scoop, The Rum Diary, and The Imperfectionists. Michael Hastings' journalism satire isn't as funny as Waugh's or as biting as Thompson's, but it still grabs you by the nuts and squeezes. Like most unpublished novels discovered only after their famous authors have died, 'The Last Magazine' is a hot mess. There are parts that are repetitive, segments that go on too long, underdeveloped ideas, etc., but there is also a current and energy that is hard to contain. 'The Last Magazine' is raw and it is FUNNY.
One of my favorite tropes is Michael Hastings' dance on the fourth wall. In the beginning of the novel he details how many words he thinks the novel will be, the book's dangers, its pitfalls, etc. Hastings the author (not the narrator) reappears again and again to apologize for going too slow or too fast or for writing too much. This voice is difficult to pull off, but Hastings manages it with grace and doesn't typically overstay -- Hastings the author and the magician knows how to both make a scene and make a dramatic exit.
* Full disclosure, Hasting's co-wrote this piece and another couple pieces with my little brother (and was working on an article on the CIA with my brother when he died). So, I am a bit biased as far as Hastings goes.
― Michael Hastings, The Last Magazine
One of my big regrets over the last couple years is that I never met Michael Hastings. He wrote some of the great long-form journalism pieces for Rolling Stone during the last decade (The Runaway General & Bowe Bergdahl: America's Last Prisoner of War*). Hastings' genius was a combination of gonzo passion with the ability to laser-in on stories months or years before they became news.
'The Last Magazine' gives us an energized, barely fictionalized, account of Michael Hastings' time at Newsweek. There is Nishant Patel & Sanders Berman (read Fareed Zakaria & Jon Meacham). There is sex. There is hackery. There's plenty of politics and porn, transvestites & bottom feeders. There are even twin narrators. Two sides of Michael Hastings. There is Michael Hastings the naive intern and A. E. Peoria the jaded combat vet who seems to have an inevitable destiny with self-destruction.
This is a novel that belongs, perhaps not next to, but on the same shelf as Scoop, The Rum Diary, and The Imperfectionists. Michael Hastings' journalism satire isn't as funny as Waugh's or as biting as Thompson's, but it still grabs you by the nuts and squeezes. Like most unpublished novels discovered only after their famous authors have died, 'The Last Magazine' is a hot mess. There are parts that are repetitive, segments that go on too long, underdeveloped ideas, etc., but there is also a current and energy that is hard to contain. 'The Last Magazine' is raw and it is FUNNY.
One of my favorite tropes is Michael Hastings' dance on the fourth wall. In the beginning of the novel he details how many words he thinks the novel will be, the book's dangers, its pitfalls, etc. Hastings the author (not the narrator) reappears again and again to apologize for going too slow or too fast or for writing too much. This voice is difficult to pull off, but Hastings manages it with grace and doesn't typically overstay -- Hastings the author and the magician knows how to both make a scene and make a dramatic exit.
* Full disclosure, Hasting's co-wrote this piece and another couple pieces with my little brother (and was working on an article on the CIA with my brother when he died). So, I am a bit biased as far as Hastings goes.
July 12, 2014
It is a terrible loss to American journalism that Michael Hastings died so young. And I really wanted his posthumously published novel to be as wonderfully witty and thought provoking as the rest of his body of work. Sadly, it simply is not.
But he wrote his first draft of this novel when he was in his early twenties, and did not decide, on his own, to revise it for publication. That decision was made by his wife and his colleagues, and this reader at least feels like it is a disservice to the writer he became to immortalize what amounts to juvenilia. Hallmarks of fiction that is not ready for prime time? The narrator is named Michael Hastings. The narrator periodically breaks into the not sparkling prose of the story to update you, the reader, directly about how much longer you will have to be reading for. The women who appear in the book are either (in order of numbers) there to have sex with AE Peoria, be administrative assistants to the Great Men of Newsweek, AE Peoria's lesbian mothers, or all named Sarah. Peoria's girlfriend for over half the book is simply referred to as "Six Orgasms," although she does not appear directly in the narrative, he does show Hastings a picture of her pussy. (Yes.)
The Last Magazine is lacking many things, including (but not limited to): narrative thrust, likable characters, and top shelf writing. The drama of who will be the next editor of The Magazine does not generate any real narrative suspense, as both contenders are fairly horrible human beings, and loathsome to encounter every time they waltz across the page. The ostensible protagonist, AE Peoria, allegedly suffers from compulsive disclosure disorder, a condition where he can not stop himself from spewing out every thought that enters his head with no filter attached. I find this character trait annoying, and also suspect when it appears to fail him when it comes to things like disclosing his Thai sexcapades and resultant STD to his girlfriend. Also, is a narrator who has thoughts about how they should not let a Frenchman direct the anti-human trafficking commercials because they make it look too sexy - is that the guy you want to read a book about? Maybe it was meant to demonstrate that Peoria is a mess, but Peoria has no dimensions - he is nothing BUT mess. The writing is straight forward, but the "author bursts in with bulletin" structure was tedious, and the overly long stretches of character diatribes against Shiites (by a Suuni) and Arabs (by a Frenchman so stereotypical that he comes across as a pornographic Pepé Le Pew) and detailed accounts of masturbation could all be eliminated with no loss and much gain to the story.
They say not to judge a book by its cover. But after slogging through to the bitter end, I can attest that the cover is far and away the best thing "The Last Magazine" has going for it.
But he wrote his first draft of this novel when he was in his early twenties, and did not decide, on his own, to revise it for publication. That decision was made by his wife and his colleagues, and this reader at least feels like it is a disservice to the writer he became to immortalize what amounts to juvenilia. Hallmarks of fiction that is not ready for prime time? The narrator is named Michael Hastings. The narrator periodically breaks into the not sparkling prose of the story to update you, the reader, directly about how much longer you will have to be reading for. The women who appear in the book are either (in order of numbers) there to have sex with AE Peoria, be administrative assistants to the Great Men of Newsweek, AE Peoria's lesbian mothers, or all named Sarah. Peoria's girlfriend for over half the book is simply referred to as "Six Orgasms," although she does not appear directly in the narrative, he does show Hastings a picture of her pussy. (Yes.)
The Last Magazine is lacking many things, including (but not limited to): narrative thrust, likable characters, and top shelf writing. The drama of who will be the next editor of The Magazine does not generate any real narrative suspense, as both contenders are fairly horrible human beings, and loathsome to encounter every time they waltz across the page. The ostensible protagonist, AE Peoria, allegedly suffers from compulsive disclosure disorder, a condition where he can not stop himself from spewing out every thought that enters his head with no filter attached. I find this character trait annoying, and also suspect when it appears to fail him when it comes to things like disclosing his Thai sexcapades and resultant STD to his girlfriend. Also, is a narrator who has thoughts about how they should not let a Frenchman direct the anti-human trafficking commercials because they make it look too sexy - is that the guy you want to read a book about? Maybe it was meant to demonstrate that Peoria is a mess, but Peoria has no dimensions - he is nothing BUT mess. The writing is straight forward, but the "author bursts in with bulletin" structure was tedious, and the overly long stretches of character diatribes against Shiites (by a Suuni) and Arabs (by a Frenchman so stereotypical that he comes across as a pornographic Pepé Le Pew) and detailed accounts of masturbation could all be eliminated with no loss and much gain to the story.
They say not to judge a book by its cover. But after slogging through to the bitter end, I can attest that the cover is far and away the best thing "The Last Magazine" has going for it.
April 10, 2014
A sharp, insightful book that left me feeling heartsick at the knowledge that such a smart and talented writer won't be able to write all of the amazing books I know he was destined to. An honor to have known him, and to have read this.
May 15, 2014
It's sad to know that Michael Hastings isn't around to write anymore. And it's sad that because of that The Last Magazine doesn't get to shine as brightly as it probably would if he'd been able to work through it with an editor. It's a solid book, but it's close to being pretty brilliant, you can see the rough edges just waiting to be scrubbed away.
While he seems like a secondary character at first, the novel ends up being mostly about reporter A. E. Peoria and his strange fall from grace as up-and-coming investigative reporter to national laughingstock. Narrator Michael Hastings becomes less involved in the story as it passes, and his insider stories of life at The Magazine start to get less juicy and interesting.
Still, if you like insider-style novels, this is a good one. A fast read, too.
While he seems like a secondary character at first, the novel ends up being mostly about reporter A. E. Peoria and his strange fall from grace as up-and-coming investigative reporter to national laughingstock. Narrator Michael Hastings becomes less involved in the story as it passes, and his insider stories of life at The Magazine start to get less juicy and interesting.
Still, if you like insider-style novels, this is a good one. A fast read, too.
June 14, 2014
This is a well written and thought provoking book. There is a harsh reality in many professions but in journalism it is intensified by the fast pace and changes in how information is delivered to the consumer. If you ever wanted to know the behind the scenes story or what people really think this book will open your eyes. It portrays the harsh realities of war, betrayal, and rise and fall of careers. It makes you want to know more about the author and the rest of the story. Be careful what you wish for.
June 26, 2014
With precision wit (which also signals disillusion), Hastings topples the paleozoics of US journalism. Courting danger from evil smoking cigars, he could duly sniff the empyreumia of the stogie. He died in 2013 when his Benz turned into a fiery ball. Verdict : traffic accident.
July 12, 2014
This is an awful book – for three reasons. First, it’s unfinished and poorly constructed. It reads like a first draft, which it probably was. It was taken from a dead man’s computer and published by his wife. The man was Michael Hastings, and if you’re familiar with his work you’ll probably want to read this novel. Hastings was a journalist, the one who’s 2011 article in Rolling Stone, forced Four Star General Stanley McChrystal, the man in charge of the Afghan war, to retire. This is a novel about what it’s like to work for a major magazine at the time of the invasions of Iraq & Afghanistan, after the attack on America in September of 2001. This book, like all first drafts, needs work. There’s a whole portion (See below, ‘Secondly’) of it that’s seriously off-putting and serves no purpose – unless it’s true; and then maybe it should have been a separate book—a memoir; but he already wrote one, represented, perhaps, by a fictional memoir in the novel. As with all novels, there is interplay between the author and the reader, and the story is subject to the interpretation of the reader; and also, like in many novels, the author sometimes inserts himself in the story, consciously or not. In this case – there’s a character named Michael Hastings, who works for The Magazine as a young ambitious, calculating intern; but there’s another protagonist, A. E. Peoria, who also works for the magazine, as a reporter, a war correspondent covering the Iraq war. Two sides of the real Hastings? Probably. If you’ve followed Hastings (TV & YouTube); which I have, you’ll notice he’s rather twitchy, giggly, hyper, almost manic. Here’s a description of Peoria from the character Hastings: ‘I wonder what kind of medication he’s on, and how long it’s going to last. There’s something in his eyes, a layer of air bubbles on an algae-covered pond. Distracted. His upper lip keeps making a quick motion, like a snarl, the meds going to work on his synapses as they battle his true nature and find expression in a twitch. He’s trying hard to seem calm and relaxed and to not just spaz out, right there at the table.’ (pg.266) A self portrait?
Secondly – if it’s true, the depictions of the war correspondent and his behaviors, his obsessive/compulsive sex additions and their realization, everywhere – that’s awful. Disgusting. All the sex scenes were not necessary, adding nothing to the story, or the character. And they consumed a lot of the text. Why? Unless they were true, confessionals of the author – like the character A. E. Peoria – Hastings, the author, suffers from CDD, compulsive disclosure disorder, which sounds made up. (At least it didn’t exist when I was in the mental health field.) It, the graphic sex, detracts from the story and Hastings, the author’s, major themes – which are important and worth looking at and thinking about. Such as: ‘We live in a society of assholes. The media is a reflection of these assholes. We’ll [I’ll, the author] show you what the inside of the asshole’s asshole looks like.’ (pg. 244) And, ‘… what was hidden inside him was a true patriot, his true self, a self that was prepared to go out and take criticism for revealing the government’s lies. We are beyond that, we are beyond that, don’t you see? We have to know the government lies, there is no shocking us—every soldier, or most, with a brain, know on some level that the government lies.’ (pg.276)
Thirdly – if it’s not true it’s awful, because it, indeed all books, influence. Fiction, believed or known to be imaginative, pushes the boundaries and seeps into the readers consciousness giving him, or her, if not permission something close to it; and there is horrible stuff in this novel—sexism, racism, perversion, selfishness, egoism to the extreme. It’s not funny, it’s awful.
This could have been a great novel. Hastings could have made all his points, without all the gratuitous sex and gimmicks. There is a section that speaks to a tortured man’s soul, his inner most thoughts and fears. That has great value! It rings true. Maybe that is what drove Michael Hastings, the author, to the edge – where he lived and then crashed and burned – literally.
RIP Michael Hastings, & thank you.
July 12, 2014
Secondly – if it’s true, the depictions of the war correspondent and his behaviors, his obsessive/compulsive sex additions and their realization, everywhere – that’s awful. Disgusting. All the sex scenes were not necessary, adding nothing to the story, or the character. And they consumed a lot of the text. Why? Unless they were true, confessionals of the author – like the character A. E. Peoria – Hastings, the author, suffers from CDD, compulsive disclosure disorder, which sounds made up. (At least it didn’t exist when I was in the mental health field.) It, the graphic sex, detracts from the story and Hastings, the author’s, major themes – which are important and worth looking at and thinking about. Such as: ‘We live in a society of assholes. The media is a reflection of these assholes. We’ll [I’ll, the author] show you what the inside of the asshole’s asshole looks like.’ (pg. 244) And, ‘… what was hidden inside him was a true patriot, his true self, a self that was prepared to go out and take criticism for revealing the government’s lies. We are beyond that, we are beyond that, don’t you see? We have to know the government lies, there is no shocking us—every soldier, or most, with a brain, know on some level that the government lies.’ (pg.276)
Thirdly – if it’s not true it’s awful, because it, indeed all books, influence. Fiction, believed or known to be imaginative, pushes the boundaries and seeps into the readers consciousness giving him, or her, if not permission something close to it; and there is horrible stuff in this novel—sexism, racism, perversion, selfishness, egoism to the extreme. It’s not funny, it’s awful.
This could have been a great novel. Hastings could have made all his points, without all the gratuitous sex and gimmicks. There is a section that speaks to a tortured man’s soul, his inner most thoughts and fears. That has great value! It rings true. Maybe that is what drove Michael Hastings, the author, to the edge – where he lived and then crashed and burned – literally.
RIP Michael Hastings, & thank you.
July 12, 2014
June 7, 2014
(FTC:I recieved this book as a GoodReads/First Reads win. I thank the publisher for their generosity. In no way did this influence my opinions, which are 100% mine)
Cynical much? What drives news and politics in the US? If we take Hastings at face value, he believed a bunch of burned out, cynical men who didn't want to rock the boat. How can you bypass this old boys club? This new thing called a blog.
Alex (A.E.) Peoria literally is part of a story so against the "norm" that it drives him into an addictive spiral. Michael Hastings, the Magazine's intern, is the only person who appears to know what's going on because he's the only one who reads his collegues reports. He does what interns do; the grunt work: the background research for the bigwigs above him, the paperwork that falls by the wayside. So what if it puffs up his bosses.
And then A.E becomes an embedded reporter in the early days of Operation Enduring Freedom. His bosses, thinking it's just a blip, tell Peoria to report on the sales of cell phones because those fighting for freedom have touched off a technology frenzy. In their eyes, the destruction we are causing is of no interest to the general public
Told in both first(Michael) and third person(A.E), the story is seen in hindsight (Hastings claims time is 2004) with the idea of the haves and the havenots, and punishment for rocking the boat by reporting the real story.
Hastings, who died in 2013, is cynical yes, tongue-in-cheek, yes, ut scarily truthful about the changeable nature of newscasting in America.
Cynical much? What drives news and politics in the US? If we take Hastings at face value, he believed a bunch of burned out, cynical men who didn't want to rock the boat. How can you bypass this old boys club? This new thing called a blog.
Alex (A.E.) Peoria literally is part of a story so against the "norm" that it drives him into an addictive spiral. Michael Hastings, the Magazine's intern, is the only person who appears to know what's going on because he's the only one who reads his collegues reports. He does what interns do; the grunt work: the background research for the bigwigs above him, the paperwork that falls by the wayside. So what if it puffs up his bosses.
And then A.E becomes an embedded reporter in the early days of Operation Enduring Freedom. His bosses, thinking it's just a blip, tell Peoria to report on the sales of cell phones because those fighting for freedom have touched off a technology frenzy. In their eyes, the destruction we are causing is of no interest to the general public
Told in both first(Michael) and third person(A.E), the story is seen in hindsight (Hastings claims time is 2004) with the idea of the haves and the havenots, and punishment for rocking the boat by reporting the real story.
Hastings, who died in 2013, is cynical yes, tongue-in-cheek, yes, ut scarily truthful about the changeable nature of newscasting in America.
June 20, 2014
It helps somewhat to be aware of who the real Michael Hastings was and what his contributions to the media landscape has been. By doing so, he has made many of us aware of the politics and the wheeling/dealing that affects what we, as consumers and citizens, perceive as news. It is an eye-opening read and is couched in the dress of a novel, yet reflects actual events that happened during his career. Actual persons are transparently veiled characters in his book and their actions tell us more about our media than many of us care to know. It is insightful and at the same time paranoid-inducing information making one doubt the veracity of any of the mainstream media. Awareness of Michael's death (in real life) under questionable circumstances, only exacerbates one's fears about the trust we have historically shared in our news sources. RIP, Michael, and thank you for all that you have done. Here's hoping that there is someone brave enough and savvy enough to pick up the torch.
August 3, 2014
I really wanted to love this book. As others have noted, this draft was found posthumously on Hastings' computer; had he lived and been able to collaborate with an editor, I imagine it would have been polished and vastly improved. Sad all the way around.
That said, it's still a fascinating peek inside magazine journalism on a downhill slide--full of interpersonal rivalries, politics and editors who pooh-pooh the interwebs. Parts are hysterical; others are tragic and dismal. The narrative voice is charming. I'm no prude but most of the sex scenes seem gratuitous. If you've been in or around journalism in any substantive way over the last 15 years, I do recommend this book. If not, I don't think it would resonate.
That said, it's still a fascinating peek inside magazine journalism on a downhill slide--full of interpersonal rivalries, politics and editors who pooh-pooh the interwebs. Parts are hysterical; others are tragic and dismal. The narrative voice is charming. I'm no prude but most of the sex scenes seem gratuitous. If you've been in or around journalism in any substantive way over the last 15 years, I do recommend this book. If not, I don't think it would resonate.
August 3, 2014
Disappointing would be my review of this book in one word. I started this book with high expectations of a very readable book with wit and insight into the world of journalism. After reading it I'm left with questions about all the people who claim it's so witty and sharp and well written. In many parts the book reads in a self-indulgent manner of excess which doesn't further the development of either the plot or the characters. There are flashes of excellence but they are few and far between. This apparently was a manuscript that was written many years ago, never received a final edit job from the author and then published after Hastings had died. I fear this book tarnishes his journalistic reputation.
June 20, 2014
Michael Hastings was best known for taking down Gen. McChrystal in a brilliant Rolling Stone piece in 2010. Hastings died one year ago, but left behind this excellent satire of the magazine - "dead tree" - industry. The Last Magazine is a thinly veiled take on Hastings' years at Newsweek, when the top dogs think the Internet and blogging is a fad.
This is not a book for the faint of heart. A movie adaptation would be hard pressed to avoid an NC-17 rating. For mature audiences only, and those who appreciate the skewering of the media's "elite."
This is not a book for the faint of heart. A movie adaptation would be hard pressed to avoid an NC-17 rating. For mature audiences only, and those who appreciate the skewering of the media's "elite."
July 21, 2014
This is a fast, lively, entertaining read. That alone makes it a real accomplishment for a first-time novelist who apparently had not produced a final draft by the time of his death in a car accident. More important, the book will stand as a vivid portrait of establishment journalism just as the huge old ship was beginning to list enough for the deck chairs to start sliding. This story of "The Magazine" - Newsweek - begins in 2002, which is precisely when I took my own buyout from Newsweek after a 25-year career there. Hastings captures the sense of an institution that still towers like a superstructure that the most talented young journalists would give their best to climb, even if has begun to sink slowly beneath the waves.
It's a juvenile account. This is the view from the remotest cubicles, where the most junior researchers gather to mock the bosses they hope someday to succeed. A lot of it amounts to meaningless carping - probably a lot like the bitching and moaning of off-duty U.S. military officers in Baghdad, conversations that Hastings used to skewer the officers in his Rolling Stone article. Yet it succeeds because Hastings captures that poignant moment when all these important "national" and "international" journalists are jousting over plum assignments and expense-account benies as always, even as they can see the anarchy and chaos that is about to engulf them. He chose this moment perfectly.
Hastings frames his novel with a white-swan, black-swan conceit. His two main characters are "Michael Hastings," the buttoned-up researcher playing the yes-sir bureaucratic game at headquarters, and "A.E. Peoria," the drug-addled, sex-engulfed foreign correspondent whose job is to witness human anguish at its most wrenching. Presumably, Hastings found these characters within himself; he worked at Newsweek both as a researcher and as a foreign correspondent. In its heyday, an institution like Newsweek could provide a foundation for both of these journalistic types. The most elegant Ivy League wordsmiths and the most damaged working correspondents shared the sense of seeking truth - more than that, of telling truth to power. Hastings is extremely cynical about this process in his book, but he would have become less so as his career progressed.
Journalistic institutions like that are, of course, disappearing. Yes, these are the "arrogant mainstream media" - good riddance to them all, right? Still, reading this book reminds me of all the marketers, propagandists, bloviators and bullshit artists who have flooded the market these days. The dead-tree New York Times has been replaced by a great dead space of blah-blah-blah. Where are Michael Hastings and A.E. Peoria working now, and where will they find as solid a foundation as The Magazine for professional journalism that strives for nothing more than to record history as it happens?
It's a juvenile account. This is the view from the remotest cubicles, where the most junior researchers gather to mock the bosses they hope someday to succeed. A lot of it amounts to meaningless carping - probably a lot like the bitching and moaning of off-duty U.S. military officers in Baghdad, conversations that Hastings used to skewer the officers in his Rolling Stone article. Yet it succeeds because Hastings captures that poignant moment when all these important "national" and "international" journalists are jousting over plum assignments and expense-account benies as always, even as they can see the anarchy and chaos that is about to engulf them. He chose this moment perfectly.
Hastings frames his novel with a white-swan, black-swan conceit. His two main characters are "Michael Hastings," the buttoned-up researcher playing the yes-sir bureaucratic game at headquarters, and "A.E. Peoria," the drug-addled, sex-engulfed foreign correspondent whose job is to witness human anguish at its most wrenching. Presumably, Hastings found these characters within himself; he worked at Newsweek both as a researcher and as a foreign correspondent. In its heyday, an institution like Newsweek could provide a foundation for both of these journalistic types. The most elegant Ivy League wordsmiths and the most damaged working correspondents shared the sense of seeking truth - more than that, of telling truth to power. Hastings is extremely cynical about this process in his book, but he would have become less so as his career progressed.
Journalistic institutions like that are, of course, disappearing. Yes, these are the "arrogant mainstream media" - good riddance to them all, right? Still, reading this book reminds me of all the marketers, propagandists, bloviators and bullshit artists who have flooded the market these days. The dead-tree New York Times has been replaced by a great dead space of blah-blah-blah. Where are Michael Hastings and A.E. Peoria working now, and where will they find as solid a foundation as The Magazine for professional journalism that strives for nothing more than to record history as it happens?
August 23, 2014
I haven't read the other reader reviews on goodreads, yet, but I suspect there are not many who think this is an actually good novel. Don't get me wrong: there's lots to like here, but it is a really good first draft, not a finished work. Oh sure, trashing Newsweek is great fun, and Newsweek deserved to be trashed. And picking out the various characters (Nishant Patel = Fareed Zakaria, Sanders Berman = Jon Meacham, Michael Healey = Michael Isikoff, Michael Hastings = ... Michael Hastings) is a nice pastime. And it was good to be reminded that basically the entire mainstream media were in favor of the war on Iraq, until two years later when they all seemed to forget that they were for it and the war had become a "mistake" and had been "incompetently mismanaged". And who wouldn't get perverse pleasure seeing Fareed Zakaria portrayed as the attention seeking media whore that he is?
But this was a novel seriously in need of some editing. Did we really need the long porn sequences of A.E. Peoria in Thailand? What was the point of that? For pages it went on, when a paragraph or two, at most, would have served just as well.
But it's a pretty entertaining book if you skim the irrelevant parts and read the rest.
But this was a novel seriously in need of some editing. Did we really need the long porn sequences of A.E. Peoria in Thailand? What was the point of that? For pages it went on, when a paragraph or two, at most, would have served just as well.
But it's a pretty entertaining book if you skim the irrelevant parts and read the rest.
August 9, 2014
Very quick, captivating and cynical portrayal of foreign policy magazine journalism. It was spooky to revisit the build up to the Iraq war as we all wonder if we're all getting drawn back in. I found myself wondering if foreign policy punditry is more hawkish by its very structure than we consider--the two leading thinkers are always writing dueling pieces to make the same points to go to war and stay on, and while I think the idea that both wouldn't recognize their own hypocrisy as events unfold is ridiculous and unfair, it probably also has some truth.
This can be a polemic at points--the characters are archetypes that don't change much, cheap shots are taken at editors and the Gawkerati. I could have done without the extensive focus on prostitutes, porn, and masturbation. I maybe a prude, but it also wasn't done well. Even one respectable or even similarly contemptuous elite female reporter would have been welcome.
All of that said, it's certainly worth a read for anyone that wants to grapple with the calculated ambition and egoism that comes with advising on foreign policy from the elite cocktail circuit.
This can be a polemic at points--the characters are archetypes that don't change much, cheap shots are taken at editors and the Gawkerati. I could have done without the extensive focus on prostitutes, porn, and masturbation. I maybe a prude, but it also wasn't done well. Even one respectable or even similarly contemptuous elite female reporter would have been welcome.
All of that said, it's certainly worth a read for anyone that wants to grapple with the calculated ambition and egoism that comes with advising on foreign policy from the elite cocktail circuit.
July 15, 2014
Fiction? Yes, but....
Hastings' posthumous novel probably could only be published now that he is in his grave. As a lightly fictionalized account of working for an international news magazine at the dawn of the 00s, the novel says what insiders think, know and would never, ever commit to paper. The story is bifurcated between two main characters, both of who we are left to wonder are stand ins for Hastings' himself? Or as composites of the characters he worked with?
For those who long lost faith with corporate mainstream media, there will be few surprises but much fun putting real names to the pseudonyms. For those who already loath Hastings' work, there is plenty of obscene paragraphs to be used as evidence that he was an incredibly flawed character. It will be easy to tell how close to the bone this novel cuts by the hostile criticism it garners or the studied ignorance of its arrival on the scene. My prediction? Ignorance and silence about this insider's account.
Hastings' posthumous novel probably could only be published now that he is in his grave. As a lightly fictionalized account of working for an international news magazine at the dawn of the 00s, the novel says what insiders think, know and would never, ever commit to paper. The story is bifurcated between two main characters, both of who we are left to wonder are stand ins for Hastings' himself? Or as composites of the characters he worked with?
For those who long lost faith with corporate mainstream media, there will be few surprises but much fun putting real names to the pseudonyms. For those who already loath Hastings' work, there is plenty of obscene paragraphs to be used as evidence that he was an incredibly flawed character. It will be easy to tell how close to the bone this novel cuts by the hostile criticism it garners or the studied ignorance of its arrival on the scene. My prediction? Ignorance and silence about this insider's account.
September 8, 2014
Obviously the Hastings should have lived to do more than just clean up this book, but be that as it may The Last Magazine could have been improved by judicious editing. For my tastes,that would include cutting about 90% of the porn and prostitution material, call me a prude if you will but I found the more extreme forms of misogynist degradation depressing and unnecessary.
The best parts of the book to me were the insider look at the more pathetic aspects of the scheming, backstabbing world of mainstream print and web journalism around the start of George W's Iraq war. The repulsive tendency for careerist hacks to go along with the rush to war is skewered beautifully, and makes the book well worth reading.
Here's more on the book from a writer who was active in the opposition to that war and many others:
https://lareviewofbooks.org/review/mi...
The best parts of the book to me were the insider look at the more pathetic aspects of the scheming, backstabbing world of mainstream print and web journalism around the start of George W's Iraq war. The repulsive tendency for careerist hacks to go along with the rush to war is skewered beautifully, and makes the book well worth reading.
Here's more on the book from a writer who was active in the opposition to that war and many others:
https://lareviewofbooks.org/review/mi...
July 21, 2014
I'm not sure I would have enjoyed this book half as much if I hadn't interned at Newsweek.com around the same time Hastings writes of his own experiences at the magazine -- mine were much tamer, obviously, but his description of the complete ambivalence of the executives to the website is spot-on in all of its irony. I'm also not sure I would have enjoyed it half as much if I wasn't fascinated by the life and death of the author. But these two forces intersected to make this a quick and intriguing read. However, if you did not intern for a newsweekly or blog in the '00s, or if you do not enjoy extended exotic sex scenes that do not advance the plot, maybe go read fear and loathing on the campaign trail for the 18th time instead.
May 29, 2014
An utterly loathsome book that I persisted with only because there was nothing else on my Kindle for my commute. Unprepared going in (and aided by the mostly deceptive cover) I was expecting more about journalism, or, as Gawker calls it, journalismism. Instead, it's just an ugly, nasty, unlikeable tale t6hat includes porn, war, drugs, alcohol, ambition, failure--the whole checklist. The true part about the cover is that is shows a man; this truly is a Boy's Own Adventure.
Not recommended to the strongest degree.
Not recommended to the strongest degree.
June 28, 2014
This is a remarkable and great book. Michael Hastings was special, and we got screwed - not more than he - by his death. This is a wonderful book about being a correspondent and living in/with the news "industry."
July 5, 2014
Recently, I saw an interview with Michael Hastings’s widow in which she described her husband’s last book published soon after his death. I looked forward to reading it as her comments about the subject of the novel were very appealing, and having read some of his previous articles in Rolling Stone and Newsweek, I immediately picked up a copy of the book. However, having just completed it, I am a little disappointed. THE LAST MAGAZINE: A NOVEL encompasses a number of story lines. The most important seem to be the battle that the print media faces as it tries to deal with the digital world of websites and blogs. In addition, Hastings skewers the liberal media for its support of the invasion of Iraq in 2003. Finally, there is the character, A.E. Peoria, a journalist on the international desk for The Magazine, and his journey to achieve personal fulfillment. Employing a cynical and sarcastic methodology the novel is at times reminiscent of the works of Kurt Vonnegut, but it does not have the depth or the symbolism that one would hope for. I admit that there are a number of humorous asides, like describing the Clinton-Lewinsky episode as the “Pentagon of blow jobs.” Or analyzing the problems of an American occupation of Iraq after the invasion, as Hastings concludes that “no one ever accuses America of being a nation of historians.” Despite many astute comments, the novel is missing a degree of cohesiveness despite the fact that the narrator, who happens to be named Michael Hastings periodically, inserts his personal situation into the story as he as he writes a novel.
Hastings, the author, not the character integrates historical events throughout the dialogue. In discussing the promise of the Bush administration that the invasion of Iraq would take three months and that American troops would be home by Christmas, Hastings brings up Lyndon Johnson’s similar promises during the Vietnam War, promises made by Pope Gregory VIII during the Third Crusade, and Napoleon’s promise as he invaded Russia in 1812. Hastings historical observations are dead on as his characters discuss the American occupation of Iraq in relation to Japan and Germany after World War II. The problem is that those successful occupations do not apply to Iraq as their situations were totally different. The only similar occupations were in Vietnam and the Philippines, and we all know how that turned out.
The subject that Hastings is most concerned with is decisions that THE MAGAZINE’S editorial staff made in covering of events related to the Iraq War. The main characters involved are Nishant Patel, an intellectual snob of Indian descent, who is the international editor; Sanders Berman, a southerner, who is THE MAGAZINE’S leading reporter; Michael Hastings, an intern; and A.E. Peoria, an investigative reporter whose personal identity crisis interferes with his work. As with most of the American media in the run up to the invasion of Iraq in March, 2003, the editorial board of THE MAGAZINE goes all in for war. The arguments that are presented ring of Cheney, Rumsfeld, and the neo-con crowd as Patel and Berman prepare articles researched by their intern to support the invasion. The episode dealing with the torture and demeaning of Iraqi prisoners at Abu Ghraib highlight Hastings condemnation of the liberal media. When the magazine places the story on its cover it is confronted with Bush administration denials and as anger across the country increases because of the articles lack of patriotism, in conjunction with the predictable worldwide Islamic backlash resulting in numerous Iraqi deaths, THE MAGAZINE and its editors go into full damage control. To save its reputation Patel and Berman choose Peoria as its scapegoat send him to appear on CNN which results in a media disaster. Peoria seems to apologize for the cover and article while being interviewed by a “Wolf Blitzer type” and the magazine follows up by instituting “new regulations to prevent this kind of mistake from happening again.” (211) Peoria is suspended and he continues his emotional spiral that in the end will lead to what appears to be personal renewal. During the episode Hastings, the character, leaks the truth of the story, but it gets little press as the governor of Virginia is caught receiving a “blow job” on an Amtrak Acela train.
Hastings, the character, emerges once again in relation to Peoria’s resurrection at THE MAGAZINE. It seems that the magazine’s darling, and acting editor in chief, Sanders Berman is a guest on the Don Imus radio program. When Imus describes the Rutgers women’s basketball team as “nappy-headed hos,” Berman seems to snicker at the comment, and now is being branded with the broad brush of racism that encompasses Imus and his staff. After three years on the syndicated program, Berman is incredulous that he didn’t know that Imus was capable of such remarks. THE MAGAZINE cuts its relationship with the radio talking head, but it needs to refocus public attention away from Berman. Enters Peoria with a story about an Iraqi war hero who was wounded during the invasion in 2003 and as a result lost the lower region of his anatomy and became a transvestite, or as Hastings, the writer, calls a “sheman.” Peoria who had saved this soldier, Justin and/or Justina’s life during the invasion, and becomes his or/her lover has this story that could save THE MAGAZINE. At the same time, Hastings, the character, the mole inside THE MAGAZINE fills in on a blog entitled, wretched.com as a hedge against losing his position at the magazine, or as wretched.com’s head Timothy Grave calls “dead trees.”
In the current unstable political climate in Iraq and the threat of ICIS, Hastings reminds us of what a mistake the invasion of Iraq was and the tragedy that has resulted. He also sends a message to the liberal media’s complicity in the 2003 invasion. The book is encapsulated best by James Rosen in his review in the June 16th edition of the Washington Post, “Here is the duality that appears to have gripped Hastings most profoundly: America as Good vs. America as Not Living up to the Hype of Good. He sees this in the Green Zone and in Columbus Circle.”
Hastings, the author, not the character integrates historical events throughout the dialogue. In discussing the promise of the Bush administration that the invasion of Iraq would take three months and that American troops would be home by Christmas, Hastings brings up Lyndon Johnson’s similar promises during the Vietnam War, promises made by Pope Gregory VIII during the Third Crusade, and Napoleon’s promise as he invaded Russia in 1812. Hastings historical observations are dead on as his characters discuss the American occupation of Iraq in relation to Japan and Germany after World War II. The problem is that those successful occupations do not apply to Iraq as their situations were totally different. The only similar occupations were in Vietnam and the Philippines, and we all know how that turned out.
The subject that Hastings is most concerned with is decisions that THE MAGAZINE’S editorial staff made in covering of events related to the Iraq War. The main characters involved are Nishant Patel, an intellectual snob of Indian descent, who is the international editor; Sanders Berman, a southerner, who is THE MAGAZINE’S leading reporter; Michael Hastings, an intern; and A.E. Peoria, an investigative reporter whose personal identity crisis interferes with his work. As with most of the American media in the run up to the invasion of Iraq in March, 2003, the editorial board of THE MAGAZINE goes all in for war. The arguments that are presented ring of Cheney, Rumsfeld, and the neo-con crowd as Patel and Berman prepare articles researched by their intern to support the invasion. The episode dealing with the torture and demeaning of Iraqi prisoners at Abu Ghraib highlight Hastings condemnation of the liberal media. When the magazine places the story on its cover it is confronted with Bush administration denials and as anger across the country increases because of the articles lack of patriotism, in conjunction with the predictable worldwide Islamic backlash resulting in numerous Iraqi deaths, THE MAGAZINE and its editors go into full damage control. To save its reputation Patel and Berman choose Peoria as its scapegoat send him to appear on CNN which results in a media disaster. Peoria seems to apologize for the cover and article while being interviewed by a “Wolf Blitzer type” and the magazine follows up by instituting “new regulations to prevent this kind of mistake from happening again.” (211) Peoria is suspended and he continues his emotional spiral that in the end will lead to what appears to be personal renewal. During the episode Hastings, the character, leaks the truth of the story, but it gets little press as the governor of Virginia is caught receiving a “blow job” on an Amtrak Acela train.
Hastings, the character, emerges once again in relation to Peoria’s resurrection at THE MAGAZINE. It seems that the magazine’s darling, and acting editor in chief, Sanders Berman is a guest on the Don Imus radio program. When Imus describes the Rutgers women’s basketball team as “nappy-headed hos,” Berman seems to snicker at the comment, and now is being branded with the broad brush of racism that encompasses Imus and his staff. After three years on the syndicated program, Berman is incredulous that he didn’t know that Imus was capable of such remarks. THE MAGAZINE cuts its relationship with the radio talking head, but it needs to refocus public attention away from Berman. Enters Peoria with a story about an Iraqi war hero who was wounded during the invasion in 2003 and as a result lost the lower region of his anatomy and became a transvestite, or as Hastings, the writer, calls a “sheman.” Peoria who had saved this soldier, Justin and/or Justina’s life during the invasion, and becomes his or/her lover has this story that could save THE MAGAZINE. At the same time, Hastings, the character, the mole inside THE MAGAZINE fills in on a blog entitled, wretched.com as a hedge against losing his position at the magazine, or as wretched.com’s head Timothy Grave calls “dead trees.”
In the current unstable political climate in Iraq and the threat of ICIS, Hastings reminds us of what a mistake the invasion of Iraq was and the tragedy that has resulted. He also sends a message to the liberal media’s complicity in the 2003 invasion. The book is encapsulated best by James Rosen in his review in the June 16th edition of the Washington Post, “Here is the duality that appears to have gripped Hastings most profoundly: America as Good vs. America as Not Living up to the Hype of Good. He sees this in the Green Zone and in Columbus Circle.”
August 15, 2017
I like Hastings' writing; it's solid prose with an occasional gem of description. This (probably at least semi-autobiographical) story alternates between following an intern at a top NY magazine and a field reporter for said magazine. It covers the fervent media push justifying the invasion of Iraq through the awesome irony of those same media outlets criticizing others whose lack of foresight got us into that war. Of course, it's less about any of the (inter)national politics, which only serve as a backdrop, and much more about the inter-office politics. Petty infighting. Ass kissing. Egos, big and small. Throw in a drunk/drug-addled reporter, an existential crisis, and some really unnecessarily gratuitous sex scenes. Add some equally unnecessary post-modern, meta-narrative narrative breaks. The result: a very readable book with a few nice turns of phrase, a poignant scene here and there, but largely forgettable.
October 16, 2021
I love Hastings writing style. Sad that he is gone so soon, but have another book of his in my queue to also read.
The Last Magazine gives the detailed view of the decline of print media and the meteoric climb of internet access to everything! I also love the thinly veiled view of media celebrities that I actually watch on a regular basis on cable tv.
I find the book interesting also in the switch between Hastings and his "friend" A.E. Peoria and their timelines. I was curious as to why he didn't choose one or the other as the protagonist instead of using both to tell the story(ies). And as a warning to some: quite explicit sexual content. Made for interesting conversations with the spouse.
A great read.
The Last Magazine gives the detailed view of the decline of print media and the meteoric climb of internet access to everything! I also love the thinly veiled view of media celebrities that I actually watch on a regular basis on cable tv.
I find the book interesting also in the switch between Hastings and his "friend" A.E. Peoria and their timelines. I was curious as to why he didn't choose one or the other as the protagonist instead of using both to tell the story(ies). And as a warning to some: quite explicit sexual content. Made for interesting conversations with the spouse.
A great read.
February 17, 2018
Short version: if you're a trans woman (like me), or care about the way trans women are portrayed in the media, look out--there's a lot of hateful ignorant bullshit about trans women that shows up 4/5 of the way through the book and will really ruin your good time. Otherwise it's an entertaining novel that hit home for me as a fellow journalist, which is why I gave it 3 stars instead of one. But is that enough to make up for the garbage that infects the last fifth of the book? Your mileage may vary. My answer: ... Not really.
July 6, 2018
Can’t believe I got this little gem at the Dollar Tree Store. Because I discovered, before reading the novel, that Michael Hastings died in a single car crash in 2013, at age 33, my experience of the book was freighted with sadness. Published posthumously, “The Last Magazine” purportedly was discovered on Hastings’ computer after his death.
TLM is “Bright Lights, Big City” meets “Fear and Loathing in Las Vegas.” Had he lived, Hastings might have become the Hunter Thompson of a new generation. Perhaps that’s what ultimately did him in....RIP.
TLM is “Bright Lights, Big City” meets “Fear and Loathing in Las Vegas.” Had he lived, Hastings might have become the Hunter Thompson of a new generation. Perhaps that’s what ultimately did him in....RIP.
October 14, 2017
The Last Magazine is a lively, funny read set in the years preceding and following 9-11 and the war in Iraq told from the point of view of an ambitious young staffer and a front-line reporter on a dying magazine not unlike Time or Newsweek. We follow the internal politics of the magazine as the Internet emerges as killer competition for tree-killer media. The characters are entertaining although mostly not likable.
March 11, 2018
Exciting read with streaks of genius. Unnecessary sexual vulgarity that do little to support character development, which probably would have been removed if Hastings had lived to see the edits. Hilarious. Interesting enough to send you down a rabbit hole of what happened to Michael Hastings, and what could have been.
April 2, 2020
Michael Hastings was incredibly talented, but this first novel published posthumously is an early draft from a writer still finding his voice in fiction. The authorial interludes aren't effective, and the sex scenes, especially the whole bit in Thailand, are just too much.
June 3, 2024
This book was bad. It may be interesting to people who worked in the magazine or blogosphere in the early 2000's. The long narratives involving sex with a prostitute, and men looking at different kinds of porn to masturbate to is really not my preferred reading material.
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