There is an inscription in the front of this book, in a hand I don't know which says, "What a book! This plot deals mainly of the wonderings and episodes of a man's evil and filthy life."

I'm not sure it deserved the reaction of the inscriber, although, if the inscriber lived and read it in 1931, when this book was published, I'm sure it was much more shocking at that time. Now it wouldn't even titillate a YA audience. In fact, it was slightly ho-hum. Seemed that the author was trying to make a Paul Bunyan figure of Frank Harris. There wasn't an important moment in history, or place that he missed and had the vital "role" in. Seemingly. He didn't strike me as evil per se so much as a psychopath. Or is is sociopath? I looked both of them up, but I still can't tell. Anyway, I was right tired of him by the end. This would be a good moral tale for young women to read as it shows the mindset of a man who only wishes to bed them, not have them as a partner for life. Those men can be very convincing until the moment happens, then good-bye. That's about all the use I found in it. I won't be keeping this. Didn't inspire me to read more of either Samuel Roth or Frank Harris, not because of smut, but because of hubris. ( )