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John Doe dies in a Belfast hotel room and sets in motion a flurry of conjecture, maudlin sentiment, and mercenary careerism that typifies the celebrity industrial death complex. Mr Doe is clearly a thinly veiled stand-in for Anthony Bourdain and the story is a chance to revel in the sordid machinations of high profile chefs, Michelin starred restaurants, and the vast, opportunistic ecosystem of fame. One wishes the three authors had kept their knives sharp instead of resorting to a slapstick sledgehammer in the form of a broad drunken antagonist and the random vagaries of viral sensation as orchestrated by a slightly bipolar 20-something. It makes for a chaotic read with a motley crew of characters chewing through the scenery in a world that has the interior logic of a schlocky 80's TV movie. Approached as such, it makes for a fun, if forgettable, distraction.
