Breaking In is an extremely fine collection of interviews with successful movie directors. Judging from the depth to which the interviewees were willing to reveal their entire life histories, Jarecki must have been a charismatic interviewer. The advice offered to all would-be directors is detailed, solid, sound, and sensible, and it’s remarkably consistent. In a nutshell, “Think of yourself as a director, and then act, in every applicable regard, as if it were true. Follow your impulses with determination and optimism.” Jarecki followed the advice and directed the excellent film called Arbitrage.
The book is produced to high literary standards. The editing of the interviews, which itself is a challenging art, produced a clear and engaging series of revelations. The advice offered is practical, and each of the narratives is fascinating. This book should be required reading in all of the film schools, and not just for those on the directing track. The same principles apply to every aspect of filmmaking. They apply to success in any field, for that matter.
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Breaking In: How 20 Film Directors Got Their Start Paperback – December 26, 2001
by
Nicholas Jarecki
(Author),
Roger Ebert
(Foreword)
A naked-truth collection of interviews with today’s hottest film directors detailing how they made their first films and "broke into" the movie industry.
When Nicholas Jarecki graduated from New York University’s film school at the age of nineteen, he knew that he wanted to make movies, but the fortress-like wall around the film industry proved hard to crack. So he set out to talk to some of Hollywood’s greatest filmmakers about how they got started, thinking that if he learned their stories, he might well find his own road to success. The end result is Breaking In, a sizzling look at the movie industry that delivers candid advice from twenty of today’s most provocative directors--from the blockbuster kings to the arthouse visionaries.
Filled with insights they don’t teach you in film school, Breaking In offers readers access to some of Hollywood’s greatest minds, revealing what sparked their passion for film and what they did to get their first break. From the creation of the script to the first day’s shoot to the roller-coaster of marketing and promotion, the directors share unique insights into the myriad ways of getting films off the ground, and offer a wealth of practical tips for aspiring filmmakers. Their interviews also present an insider’s glimpse of their sometimes heartbreaking, sometimes joyous, but always exhilarating rides to the top.
When Nicholas Jarecki graduated from New York University’s film school at the age of nineteen, he knew that he wanted to make movies, but the fortress-like wall around the film industry proved hard to crack. So he set out to talk to some of Hollywood’s greatest filmmakers about how they got started, thinking that if he learned their stories, he might well find his own road to success. The end result is Breaking In, a sizzling look at the movie industry that delivers candid advice from twenty of today’s most provocative directors--from the blockbuster kings to the arthouse visionaries.
Filled with insights they don’t teach you in film school, Breaking In offers readers access to some of Hollywood’s greatest minds, revealing what sparked their passion for film and what they did to get their first break. From the creation of the script to the first day’s shoot to the roller-coaster of marketing and promotion, the directors share unique insights into the myriad ways of getting films off the ground, and offer a wealth of practical tips for aspiring filmmakers. Their interviews also present an insider’s glimpse of their sometimes heartbreaking, sometimes joyous, but always exhilarating rides to the top.
- Print length336 pages
- LanguageEnglish
- PublisherBroadway
- Publication dateDecember 26, 2001
- Dimensions6.25 x 0.75 x 9.25 inches
- ISBN-100767906748
- ISBN-13978-0767906746
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Editorial Reviews
From Publishers Weekly
Young NYU film school graduate Jarecki began this project as a "selfish" endeavor (he wanted to know how he could get his own start), but it evolved into an expansive collection of interviews with three generations of directors about how films are conceived, shot and distributed. The directors included span decades and genres, from John Schlesinger (Midnight Cowboy) to Amy Heckerling (Clueless) to Ben Younger (Boiler Room), but nearly all agree on the need for perseverance and the belief that writing a good script is, as Younger says, the "easiest and most direct route to success." These directors generally praise film programs, like those at Columbia, NYU and AFI (American Film Institute), as training grounds, and they view Sundance and other festivals with both starry and jaundiced eyes. Aside from offering advice, the book also provides directors' views on the purpose of filmmaking. Edward Zwick (Glory) sees film as a way to communicate feelings and "organize" experience; Peter Farrelly (Dumb and Dumber) considers it "telling a good story." Like a fine movie, the book generates memorable images, including Farrelly frozen by fear in bed before his first shoot and a teenaged John Dahl (The Last Seduction) trying to seduce a girl at a drive-in showing A Clockwork Orange. For future filmmakers, the book grants an extended community; for movie fans, it encourages faith in future films made by directors like Brett Ratner (Money Talks) who aim to inspire people, because "that's what movies ultimately are supposed to do."
Copyright 2001 Cahners Business Information, Inc.
From Booklist
There is much to enjoy in this rather uneven set of interviews. Jarecki, a young director himself, isn't a deeply probing interviewer, and most of the questions sound as if the subjects had written them. For the most part, though, their stories prove immensely entertaining, detailing the cutthroat competition and illuminating the crazy luck that often leads to a filmmaker's first break. The debut films discussed by the likes of John Schlesinger and Edward Zwick tend to be ambitious or significant efforts, and it is enjoyable to hear their masterminds deprecate them from the perspective of subsequent experience. The book has great appeal to aspiring filmmakers, but the emphasis on technical details may put off casual readers. Still, the personality and intelligence of the subjects carries the day, as the director's affectionately recall how they turned their passion into a full-time gig. Will Hickman
Copyright © American Library Association. All rights reserved
Copyright © American Library Association. All rights reserved
From the Inside Flap
d-truth collection of interviews with today s hottest film directors detailing how they made their first films and "broke into" the movie industry.
When Nicholas Jarecki graduated from New York University s film school at the age of nineteen, he knew that he wanted to make movies, but the fortress-like wall around the film industry proved hard to crack. So he set out to talk to some of Hollywood s greatest filmmakers about how they got started, thinking that if he learned their stories, he might well find his own road to success. The end result is Breaking In, a sizzling look at the movie industry that delivers candid advice from twenty of today s most provocative directors--from the blockbuster kings to the arthouse visionaries.
Filled with insights they don t teach you in film school, Breaking In offers readers access to some of Hollywood s greatest minds, revealing what sparked their passion fo
When Nicholas Jarecki graduated from New York University s film school at the age of nineteen, he knew that he wanted to make movies, but the fortress-like wall around the film industry proved hard to crack. So he set out to talk to some of Hollywood s greatest filmmakers about how they got started, thinking that if he learned their stories, he might well find his own road to success. The end result is Breaking In, a sizzling look at the movie industry that delivers candid advice from twenty of today s most provocative directors--from the blockbuster kings to the arthouse visionaries.
Filled with insights they don t teach you in film school, Breaking In offers readers access to some of Hollywood s greatest minds, revealing what sparked their passion fo
About the Author
Since graduating from New York University’s Tisch School of the Arts in 1999, Nicholas Jarecki has directed several short films and music videos, as well as a documentary about the building of a New York nightclub. He has also directed and produced television pieces for clients such as IBM and HBO. Currently at work on scriptwriting and directing projects, Jarecki lives in New York City.
Excerpt. © Reprinted by permission. All rights reserved.
Edward Zwick ABOUT LAST NIGHT
EDWARD ZWICK was born in 1952 in Wyneck, Illinois. He attended Harvard University and began publishing work at the New York Observer and other publications by the time he was twenty-one. During a year abroad in France he met Woody Allen, who gave Zwick his first job working on a film. This exposure pushed Zwick to begin developing his own material. At the age of twenty-six he became producer of the television show "Family." He went on to direct his first feature, About Last Night, starring Demi Moore and Rob Lowe. Subsequently he created the television series "thirtysomething," and directed and produced many more films including Glory and The Siege, starring Denzel Washington and Bruce Willis. He also produced the Steven Soderbergh film Traffic. Zwick lives in Los Angeles with his family.
I grew up in Wyneck, Illinois, an affluent, middle-class suburb of Chicago. I went to a public high school, but it was a very progressive one, called Nutrier High. It's a bit odd, but a disproportionate number of people from this school have gone into the entertainment business, mostly as actors. I can't necessarily say why, but they have a very good drama department and I think it's that combined with the privilege of the suburb. Growing up there you're exposed to a number of artistic things as a child and indeed are given the presumptuous notion that you can go out into the world and succeed. There may be some sense of entitlement that comes from growing up in that particular way.
My mother had once been the assistant director in the high school class play. That was the extent of her theatrical involvement and yet it struck a chord in her. She loved the theater. She loved films. My father had loved film too, and it was important to my mother that we go see movies and important to my father that we go see them the first night. He was very into the glitz and allure of it and I think she was more aesthetically interested in the films themselves. When I was a kid I was initially very drawn to the theater. I first worked on a school play in fifth or sixth grade. By the time I was in eighth or ninth grade I was directing these little productions and acting in them and lighting them and doing all the things that somebody does when you're that age. We lived in a little split-level house that had three bedrooms. I have two younger sisters, and when they no longer wanted to share a room, I moved out of my bedroom and into the den of our house. In the den there was a television set, and although it was scandalous to have a television set in your room, particularly at age twelve or thirteen, I was now in the den, where it was somehow okay. That meant that I could stick a towel under the door so the light wouldn't show and turn the sound down and keep watching. When they thought I was asleep I could watch late-night movies.
It was about 1965 and at that time in the Midwest the late show was a wonderful venue for watching older movies. I remember seeing some of the real American standards such as The Maltese Falcon or Red River when I was supposed to be sleeping. It was a guilty pleasure, and one that I was passionate about, but not one that I ever really thought I could partake of.
WHAT WERE YOUR PARENTS' PROFESSIONS?
My father had several professions over time. He initially went to work for my grandfather in the dress business. Then he was a mortgage banker, which is someone who puts together financing for larger business projects. Then in the midst of one of those projects he chose to open some clothing stores. He had three different incarnations over the course of his life. Each business had a spectacular rise and an even more spectacular fall, and by the time I went to college he was in the midst of the most spectacular fall of all. I think he owed the government a lot of money. My mother took care of us while we were young, and then she and my father divorced when she was forty. She began to work, starting out at Harcourt Brace, a publishing company, and then went on to become director of entertainment at a geriatric hotel as a kind of a recreation director for eight hundred senior citizens.
I had been watching films since I was young, but didn't really ever think that I would be making them, so when I went to college at Harvard University, I didn't study film but instead was an English major, although theater remained central to my life. As well as doing all the things that one does at a liberal arts school, I also spent an inordinate amount of time in the theater.
SO YOU WERE DEFINITELY LEANING TOWARD AN ARTISTIC PATH.
You're getting to a very watershed moment, which is that after working so much at the theater, I began writing. I wrote for Rolling Stone while I was in college and later for a magazine called The New Republic. I also applied and was accepted to Harvard Law School. Certainly law school was a more conventional choice, and one that my parents thought more legitimate. I'll say though that my mother, because she harbored this very secret love of the arts, was encouraging about the idea of me being in theater, and my father, who was at the time in the midst of his business collapse, had lost some moral authority in the argument.
At the same time that I got accepted to Harvard Law, I received a Rockefeller fellowship to go to Europe and work with some local theater companies. It offered a year of grace, a year not to have to decide, and so I took it. It was cash really and tax-free cash and so I took it and went to France.
While I was there, I was very lucky in that when I had worked with The New Republic I had corresponded with Woody Allen because he'd written a number of short humor pieces for The New Yorker. But there were a number of pieces that William Shawn had not published, and Marty Parrots, a professor and a friend of mine from college, had solicited Woody to give those pieces to The New Republic. So I had had a brief correspondence with him throughout that process. I had heard that he was making a movie in France, and so when I actually saw him one day walking on Saint-Germain des Près, I did something that I would never do now. I was twenty-one and brash, and so I walked up to him and introduced myself right there on the street. He was remarkably kind and open. He professed to recall the correspondence, although I'm not quite sure he did. I told him I was in France on a fellowship and asked if I could hang out at the set and see what that was all about. I didn't even know if I was interested in doing that, really, because as I always felt like the technical aspects of film were daunting. I was well aware of film's relationship to what I did in the theater in terms of storytelling and directing the actor and things like that, but I felt that I needed to know the technical side. Then at this encounter Woody invited me to hang out on the set, and work as a kind of a half-assed assistant. I spoke some French, so I could help out, and they didn't have to pay me much.
I could tell very quickly that Woody was not technically inclined, but rather was an artist, a writer with a vision, and that he had surrounded himself with a number of people whose job it was to interpret that vision. Whether it was a cinematographer, or Kurt Gallow as an assistant director, or Paul Veder, Woody had all these wonderfully talented people surrounding him. Although this was before he made what I consider to be the extraordinary breakthrough of his career, stylistically, which was Annie Hall, he had only made a couple of movies at that time, and was now filming Love and Death. I worked on that movie for six weeks in France and then we went to Hungary for two or three weeks and then back to France. Ultimately I got bored because I wasn't doing anything truly interesting, but rather holding a walkie-talkie in the rain or doing office work. But the experience of the filming was revelatory.
HE WAS KIND TO YOU.
He was generous. I don't know how else to put it. He was very important, and yet he honored my idiotic questions and really was a big help to me at that time.
For the rest of that year that I lived in France I would go to the movies often. Paris is about the best place in the world to see movies. There are twenty (or at least there were at that time) revival houses going at any one moment including the cinematèque where they're showing every movie by Vittorio De Sica, Roberto Rossellini, Pier Paolo Pasolini, any Italian director, and at the same time they are doing a retrospective of John Ford and Preston Sturges, along with Jean-Luc Godard and Francois Truffaut. It's a remarkable place to get a cinematic education. I spent a lot of time going to movies, mostly because I was lonely, bored, or scared or uncertain as to what my future might be. The movies have always been a lovely refuge for those who want to escape for a couple of hours in the dark, and I wanted to do it for at least twelve hours every day if not more. The difference though was that I began looking at movies as a possible mode of expression whereas before I'd only looked at them as entertainment, or a kind of diversion. During that year in Paris, I also began to write much more seriously. I had written some bad plays in college, but alienation and disenfranchisement are a really good prompt to becoming a more internal writer and I began to do that.
I had always thought that when I started to run out of money I would go to New York, as I had had some offers to work in the theater there. But ultimately, and I can't remember how I heard about it, I decided that I wanted to go to the American Film Institute. I was about twenty-two at this point, I had finished Harvard and my year of rest, and so I wrote for the application and sent it in to the AFI. I didn't have a film to show them so instead I sent them some reviews of a few plays that I had directed, some music and songs that I had written, some articles I had written for magazines, and an essay, a...
EDWARD ZWICK was born in 1952 in Wyneck, Illinois. He attended Harvard University and began publishing work at the New York Observer and other publications by the time he was twenty-one. During a year abroad in France he met Woody Allen, who gave Zwick his first job working on a film. This exposure pushed Zwick to begin developing his own material. At the age of twenty-six he became producer of the television show "Family." He went on to direct his first feature, About Last Night, starring Demi Moore and Rob Lowe. Subsequently he created the television series "thirtysomething," and directed and produced many more films including Glory and The Siege, starring Denzel Washington and Bruce Willis. He also produced the Steven Soderbergh film Traffic. Zwick lives in Los Angeles with his family.
I grew up in Wyneck, Illinois, an affluent, middle-class suburb of Chicago. I went to a public high school, but it was a very progressive one, called Nutrier High. It's a bit odd, but a disproportionate number of people from this school have gone into the entertainment business, mostly as actors. I can't necessarily say why, but they have a very good drama department and I think it's that combined with the privilege of the suburb. Growing up there you're exposed to a number of artistic things as a child and indeed are given the presumptuous notion that you can go out into the world and succeed. There may be some sense of entitlement that comes from growing up in that particular way.
My mother had once been the assistant director in the high school class play. That was the extent of her theatrical involvement and yet it struck a chord in her. She loved the theater. She loved films. My father had loved film too, and it was important to my mother that we go see movies and important to my father that we go see them the first night. He was very into the glitz and allure of it and I think she was more aesthetically interested in the films themselves. When I was a kid I was initially very drawn to the theater. I first worked on a school play in fifth or sixth grade. By the time I was in eighth or ninth grade I was directing these little productions and acting in them and lighting them and doing all the things that somebody does when you're that age. We lived in a little split-level house that had three bedrooms. I have two younger sisters, and when they no longer wanted to share a room, I moved out of my bedroom and into the den of our house. In the den there was a television set, and although it was scandalous to have a television set in your room, particularly at age twelve or thirteen, I was now in the den, where it was somehow okay. That meant that I could stick a towel under the door so the light wouldn't show and turn the sound down and keep watching. When they thought I was asleep I could watch late-night movies.
It was about 1965 and at that time in the Midwest the late show was a wonderful venue for watching older movies. I remember seeing some of the real American standards such as The Maltese Falcon or Red River when I was supposed to be sleeping. It was a guilty pleasure, and one that I was passionate about, but not one that I ever really thought I could partake of.
WHAT WERE YOUR PARENTS' PROFESSIONS?
My father had several professions over time. He initially went to work for my grandfather in the dress business. Then he was a mortgage banker, which is someone who puts together financing for larger business projects. Then in the midst of one of those projects he chose to open some clothing stores. He had three different incarnations over the course of his life. Each business had a spectacular rise and an even more spectacular fall, and by the time I went to college he was in the midst of the most spectacular fall of all. I think he owed the government a lot of money. My mother took care of us while we were young, and then she and my father divorced when she was forty. She began to work, starting out at Harcourt Brace, a publishing company, and then went on to become director of entertainment at a geriatric hotel as a kind of a recreation director for eight hundred senior citizens.
I had been watching films since I was young, but didn't really ever think that I would be making them, so when I went to college at Harvard University, I didn't study film but instead was an English major, although theater remained central to my life. As well as doing all the things that one does at a liberal arts school, I also spent an inordinate amount of time in the theater.
SO YOU WERE DEFINITELY LEANING TOWARD AN ARTISTIC PATH.
You're getting to a very watershed moment, which is that after working so much at the theater, I began writing. I wrote for Rolling Stone while I was in college and later for a magazine called The New Republic. I also applied and was accepted to Harvard Law School. Certainly law school was a more conventional choice, and one that my parents thought more legitimate. I'll say though that my mother, because she harbored this very secret love of the arts, was encouraging about the idea of me being in theater, and my father, who was at the time in the midst of his business collapse, had lost some moral authority in the argument.
At the same time that I got accepted to Harvard Law, I received a Rockefeller fellowship to go to Europe and work with some local theater companies. It offered a year of grace, a year not to have to decide, and so I took it. It was cash really and tax-free cash and so I took it and went to France.
While I was there, I was very lucky in that when I had worked with The New Republic I had corresponded with Woody Allen because he'd written a number of short humor pieces for The New Yorker. But there were a number of pieces that William Shawn had not published, and Marty Parrots, a professor and a friend of mine from college, had solicited Woody to give those pieces to The New Republic. So I had had a brief correspondence with him throughout that process. I had heard that he was making a movie in France, and so when I actually saw him one day walking on Saint-Germain des Près, I did something that I would never do now. I was twenty-one and brash, and so I walked up to him and introduced myself right there on the street. He was remarkably kind and open. He professed to recall the correspondence, although I'm not quite sure he did. I told him I was in France on a fellowship and asked if I could hang out at the set and see what that was all about. I didn't even know if I was interested in doing that, really, because as I always felt like the technical aspects of film were daunting. I was well aware of film's relationship to what I did in the theater in terms of storytelling and directing the actor and things like that, but I felt that I needed to know the technical side. Then at this encounter Woody invited me to hang out on the set, and work as a kind of a half-assed assistant. I spoke some French, so I could help out, and they didn't have to pay me much.
I could tell very quickly that Woody was not technically inclined, but rather was an artist, a writer with a vision, and that he had surrounded himself with a number of people whose job it was to interpret that vision. Whether it was a cinematographer, or Kurt Gallow as an assistant director, or Paul Veder, Woody had all these wonderfully talented people surrounding him. Although this was before he made what I consider to be the extraordinary breakthrough of his career, stylistically, which was Annie Hall, he had only made a couple of movies at that time, and was now filming Love and Death. I worked on that movie for six weeks in France and then we went to Hungary for two or three weeks and then back to France. Ultimately I got bored because I wasn't doing anything truly interesting, but rather holding a walkie-talkie in the rain or doing office work. But the experience of the filming was revelatory.
HE WAS KIND TO YOU.
He was generous. I don't know how else to put it. He was very important, and yet he honored my idiotic questions and really was a big help to me at that time.
For the rest of that year that I lived in France I would go to the movies often. Paris is about the best place in the world to see movies. There are twenty (or at least there were at that time) revival houses going at any one moment including the cinematèque where they're showing every movie by Vittorio De Sica, Roberto Rossellini, Pier Paolo Pasolini, any Italian director, and at the same time they are doing a retrospective of John Ford and Preston Sturges, along with Jean-Luc Godard and Francois Truffaut. It's a remarkable place to get a cinematic education. I spent a lot of time going to movies, mostly because I was lonely, bored, or scared or uncertain as to what my future might be. The movies have always been a lovely refuge for those who want to escape for a couple of hours in the dark, and I wanted to do it for at least twelve hours every day if not more. The difference though was that I began looking at movies as a possible mode of expression whereas before I'd only looked at them as entertainment, or a kind of diversion. During that year in Paris, I also began to write much more seriously. I had written some bad plays in college, but alienation and disenfranchisement are a really good prompt to becoming a more internal writer and I began to do that.
I had always thought that when I started to run out of money I would go to New York, as I had had some offers to work in the theater there. But ultimately, and I can't remember how I heard about it, I decided that I wanted to go to the American Film Institute. I was about twenty-two at this point, I had finished Harvard and my year of rest, and so I wrote for the application and sent it in to the AFI. I didn't have a film to show them so instead I sent them some reviews of a few plays that I had directed, some music and songs that I had written, some articles I had written for magazines, and an essay, a...
Product details
- Publisher : Broadway; First Edition (December 26, 2001)
- Language : English
- Paperback : 336 pages
- ISBN-10 : 0767906748
- ISBN-13 : 978-0767906746
- Item Weight : 13.6 ounces
- Dimensions : 6.25 x 0.75 x 9.25 inches
- Best Sellers Rank: #1,304,717 in Books (See Top 100 in Books)
- #1,053 in Video Direction & Production (Books)
- #1,235 in Movie Direction & Production
- #12,751 in Performing Arts (Books)
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Top reviews from the United States
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Reviewed in the United States on December 24, 2013
Reviewed in the United States on April 15, 2007
I initially read through this book at the library, and was immediately interested in the approach. Occasionally, I did find the question and answer style of the book to be dull at times, but overall, I was able to gain a wealth of great ideas and information. This book is about breaking in. Each director giving their path to success was inspiring as it revealed that anyone can make it. On the other hand, it disheartening to realize that even with the most dedicated individuals, breaking in takes a bit of randomness and luck. The one idea that still holds with me today, is that no one is assigned the title of "director". It is a title that you assign to yourself.
Reviewed in the United States on December 15, 2012
spot on. gave it to my stepson, the film director.nice concrete examples of how 20 directors made their start in film
Reviewed in the United States on December 27, 2012
Having studied film production in college, one thing that I am sure every aspiring filmmaker wants to know, but is never privy to, is how the professional directors we know today completed that tedious task of completing that first feature and more so how they made a living from it. Jarecki's book gives the reader just that through his in depth interviews with a great variety of filmmakers working today. The book is even more relevant to its message considering this past year Jarecki just completed his first feature, Arbitrage with Richard Gere and Susan Sarandon that has been getting very positive reviews. The ongoing motif from the directors he has interviewed in his book is essentially that drive trumps "talent" to make it in this business.
Reviewed in the United States on April 27, 2021
Wonderful, insightful read. Great gift for the film buff in your life.
Reviewed in the United States on October 29, 2010
I actualy read this book a while back when I was still trying to break into the film industry... and now having worked in the biz for almost 10 years I always recommend this book for beginners. Which is why i bought this book again. For a friend of mine who aspires to be a film director. Great read too!
Reviewed in the United States on March 2, 2015
This is excellent. As I began to read and continued through the book, I was surprised and pleased at the directors' lack of pretension.. I thought for the most part the stories were honest and real and thus were very inspirational.to me. I liked the book a lot.
Reviewed in the United States on April 14, 2017
interesting read
Top reviews from other countries
Reginald Gruenenberg
5.0 out of 5 stars
Excellent Book!
Reviewed in Germany on April 28, 2019
It's almost 20 years old, but without being dated a bit. Great read!
Z. Nieborski
4.0 out of 5 stars
Four Stars
Reviewed in the United Kingdom on April 20, 2015
Insightful, personal accounts.
Mr Andrew Watson
1.0 out of 5 stars
Retail price of $14.
Reviewed in the United Kingdom on November 16, 2013
Sent this as an 18th birthday present. Paid £76. Very dissapointed to receive a paperback that retailed for $14. Perhaps it's a collectors piece but I would have liked to know.