Although this volume expounds on the tribulations of those seeking to enter the legal profession from "second tier" law schools, it is nothing more than a self-congratulatory rant about how young Wellen overcame the stigma of a degree from Temple Law School to pass the New York bar exam and join a prestigious Manhattan law firm. As he banally puts it, "I was the bicoastal, high-powered New York attorney that I'd always dreamt of becoming." Of course the reality of the litigation life proves less glamorous than an episode of L.A. Law. Wellen spends his first year as an attorney poring over thousands of documents related to a patent dispute involving ink-jet printers. Small wonder that he quits after a year. All this would be tolerable—maybe even entertaining—if Wellen's writing were witty or insightful. Wellen seems to derive no intellectual pleasure from the law; instead it is all about punching the ego ticket. Perhaps because his insights into the law are so minimal, Wellen pads his book with digressions that have nothing to do with its legal premise. Readers accompany him and a friend on a whirlwind backpacking tour of Europe, which consists of worrying about trains and "speed-seeing" sites like the Parthenon. His lack of preparation, not to mention sophistication, is constantly on display, such as when he and his friend disembark on the Greek island of Naxos and he blithely confesses, "Neither of us had ever heard of it." Other digressions include the saga of finding a loft in lower Manhattan, which no one outside of New York will care about and New Yorkers themselves will find dull. In the end, Wellen cares only about spending money on things that validate him, whether hanging out at Au Bar or buying a $3,000 chair. (Sept.)
