I now regret not having read this memoir sooner.

This is not a book about tattoos. Rather, Trachtenberg uses his seven tattoos as a simple yet effective framework for not only his autobiographical narrative, but also his literary studies, theological musings, and cultural explorations. His story is familiar: self-destruction exacerbated by drug abuse, a love-hate bond with his parents, an inability to commit to relationships. What distinguishes this memoir from the many (tiresome) confessional accounts flooding the market are a self-mocking wit, the willingness to assume responsibility for his mistakes, and--most of all--the grace and hilarity of his prose. (I challenge anyone not to laugh aloud while reading his discourse on Christ's stigmata or his tale of attempting Zen meditation under the influence of speed.)

The breadth of his recall of literature is impressive--from James Boswell to Philip K. Dick. In one chapter, he brilliantly weaves a reading of "Lord Jim" into both an account of his travels in Borneo and a reminiscence of his affair with a Native American woman. In another, he entwines a fictional noir script (a la James M. Cain) with his tale of a writer whose stories increasingly resemble the details of their own friendship.

Equally impressive is his knowledge of religious customs; he is able to lampoon just about every faith with equal verve. ("Hell isn't even mentioned in the Torah. The closest thing you find is Sheol, a dusty gray underworld that's as inclusive as the Hard Rock Cafe and, I'm sure, as dreary: Anyone can get in; everyone will.") Some might find his mockery of religion blasphemous, but his skewering seems far more fond than venomous.

Both "Kirkus Reviews" and a customer's post on this Web site mock this book as an "exercise in self-indulgence." But isn't that the very definition of any memoir? Other readers might wonder: who is this guy; why is his life so interesting that I should bother reading about it? But we don't enjoy reading about Clarissa Dalloway or Stephen Dedalus because they have fascinating or unusual lives. Instead, like good fiction, Trachtenberg's memoir succeeds because he takes the oft-old tale of decline and recovery and turns it into a clever, coherent, captivating narrative.


Read the Book   September 9, 2000
 3 out of 3 found this review helpful

7 Tattoos is a good read for anyone who has spent sometime on the wild side and can relate to what Trachtenberg is saying, and what an amazing trip he has had becoming what we assume is a responsible adult. A little reminiscent of Jack Kerouac's 'On the Road', but not as ugly and Trachtenberg at least expressed a concience about most of his trangressions. I did an immediate re-read as I was intigued and wanted a deeper understanding. On the second pass I found myself wondering where he got the money to travel so much and was he sponging off his hard working second generation Holocost parents? The second pass also gave focus to the self indulgence present in his inner child ramblings, but what are memoirs for? It feels honest and alleviates one's own paranoia about self loathing and guilt - we all got some.


Memoirs Are Good, Even In Flesh   June 14, 2000
 1 out of 1 found this review helpful

This book is a pretty good read about one man's struggle to find himself and make sense of the world around him. The use of the tattoos makes the story that much more enjoyable. It is amazing to find out the meaning of each of the authors amazing body art. The use of the tattoos in portraying life is an art that has been lost in today's commercialized tatto world and it is nice to see that tattos still hold a place in story telling.


good read   March 31, 2000
 1 out of 1 found this review helpful

I enjoyed reading Trachtenberg's stories. There's the assumption that people get tattoos drunk one night or on a whim. It was nice to read about where, why and more about his tattoos. I'd highly recommend this if you have an interest in tattoo art or just a really good personal story