Books about Queenan from Amazon.com

MY WALL STREET JOURNAL is a sizzling satire of the people responsible for the staggering mess we're in. Laugh away your great depression with cutting-edge comedy from the likes of Andy Borowitz, Richard Belzer, Terry Jones, Tony Hendra, writers from the Onion, the Daily Show, Saturday Night Live, The New Yorker and yes, the Wall Street Journal itself..
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Pregnancies compromised by disease, trauma, substance abuse, and other factors are not uncommon They clearly demand special attention from the obstetrician, obstetric nurse, primary care physician and others. Through three successful editions, Queenan has provided these audiences with a concise yet complete guide to managing pregnant patients and fetuses at risk.

For the fourth edition, Dr Queenan has replaced up to a third of the 96 contributors to get some "new blood" into the book. He has invited more contributions from European authors in order to better cater to an international readership. The book does, however, retain the popular "protocols" theme, in which very brief chapters on the spectrum of HRP topics provide quick summaries of a problem and diagnostic and therapeutic steps to manage it. Every chapter has been revised carefully to reflect the latest thinking on the best approach to pregnant patients with risks like tuberculosis, STDs, bleeding, pre-eclampsia, etc. The many quick reference tables and charts are updated as, are the brief bibliographies accompanying each chapter.

This new edition provides increased coverage of IUGR, Pre-eclampsia, teratology and genetics. New chapters have been introduced on doppler ultrasound, nuchal translucency and also on AIDS in pregnancy.

Furthermore this fourth edition is evidence-based. The new editor, Catherine Spong, is a guru of evidence-based medicine and as well as one of the editors of the journal of the American College of Obstetricians and Gynecologists: Obstetrics and Gynaecology, directs the foetal medicine programme at the National Institute of Health in Washington..
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"To me, the Phillies and Eagles are exactly like nicotine:," writes Joe Queenan in his painful and deeply funny book True Believers: The Tragic Inner Life of Sports Fans, "a preposterously noxious semi-hallucinogenic substance capable of giving great pleasure for brief periods of time, but that will ultimately destroy your health." Targets of Queenan's blowtorch mockery in previous books have included Hollywood, chain restaurants, and baby boomers. But here, he shines the spotlight on himself in an extended examination on what it means to join in the unique self-flagellation that is sports fandom. That flagellation is made more painful when, as in Queenan's case, the fan has sacrificed their time, emotional well-being, and regard among family members to following teams that often suck real bad. But True Believers is less a work of psychological research than a ruminative and passionate explanation of the rules of conduct by which the author believes fans should live. These same rules, of course, are discussed all the time by fans on bleacher seats, bar stools, and living room couches around the world as they desperately hope that this will finally be the year the Cubs or Cardinals or Clippers finally get it together. But rarely have the rules been codified in one bound volume. Queenan shines when attacking the dreaded "bandwagon" fan and when describing his decision not to stop the young son of a family friend from ruining his life by rooting for the Mets. And he's poignant and refreshingly void of cynicism in relating the last days of his father and how they overlapped with a pivotal Eagles-Falcons game. This is a lively and entertaining read that should appeal to any sports fan except those incomprehensible jerks that root for the Lakers and Yankees. --John Moe.
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Joe Queenan knows what a maleficent scuzz he is. In My Goodness, he admits he wrote a Barbra Streisand profile called "Sacred Cow" in his scurrilous book If You're Talking to Me, Your Career Must Be in Trouble. He apologizes for calling Sinead O'Connor "a short, bald distaff Bono" and for wishing Mr. Holland's Opus had ended "the same way as Braveheart, with Richard Dreyfuss getting his entrails ripped out while a cast of thousands cheered." Queenan figures that most of the 1,441,575 words he wrote from 1986-98 (including every word in Confessions of a Cineplex Heckler) were mean, containing "47,678 nasty remarks, or one cruel remark every two sentences."

So Queenan embraced virtue as passionately as Jackie Collins heroes embrace vice. (You'll have to read page 146 of My Goodness to get this vulgar in-joke.) He began performing "RAKs" and "SABs" (random acts of kindness and senseless acts of beauty). He bought the most putrid movies by Robin Williams and Kim Basinger, to support their do-good deeds. He sipped shade-grown coffee and kale-based shakes. He wrote checks on soy and hemp paper for the Dog Toy Drive and Linda Tripp. He started "The Make a Wish, As Long As the Wish Doesn't Cost More Than Fifty Bucks, Foundation." He urged Tom's of Maine to put "cuddly rats" on its toothpaste tubes in solidarity with downtrodden vermin.

After six months, Queenan went back to work as a maleficent scuzz. But you can read this book and share his one brief, shining moment as the moral equivalent of Susan Sarandon. --Tim Appelo.
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Joe Queenan is, by his own admission, not a nice man. He is, however, hilarious These twin traits, combined with a genuine love of movies in all their flawed, insane glory, make him particularly well-suited to writing vicious and side-splitting little gems of film commentary. Queenan is a master of the quick jab (during a showing of Alive he is compelled to shout, "Eat Vincent Spano first!") and of cutting to the chase ("In short, Philadelphia is A Few Good Gay Men"), but it is his longer, more thoughtful pieces that really make the book. "Hair Force," his essay on actors who manage to hijack the audience's attention for entire films through inappropriate wig use, is a masterful dissection of an insidious and chilling cinematic phenomenon. "The Drilling Fields" is a heartrending piece on the consistent and doubtless crushing failure of the motion picture industry to portray dentists in a positive light. And only Queenan could produce "And Then There Were Nuns," the most complete guide to nun movies you're ever likely to run across.

But Queenan is no mere armchair sociologist. He is unafraid to venture into the field and put his own life at risk for the increase of cinematic knowledge. In the book's title piece, he shouts his way through movie after movie, trying to figure out what it is that makes people put up with hecklers. In the ongoing "Don't Try This at Home" series, Queenan puts cinematic plot points to the test, using the most rigorous scientific standards to determine whether you can really learn Portuguese in 20 minutes like John Travolta in Phenomenon (no) and if hot candle wax is really as erotic as it seems in Body of Evidence (don't even think about it). All in all, this is an indispensable volume for any serious film student. Especially if the film student in question really hates Vincent Spano. --Ali Davis.
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"How bad could it be?" With this simple question, Joe Queenan embarks on a nightmare journey through the depths of American pop culture, subjecting himself to Broadway musicals, Red Lobster Captains' Feasts, and John Tesh concerts: "With his shopworn, lounge-lizard stage gestures, eviscerated salsa compositions, and studied reveries, Tesh was a human Cuisinart of every hack musical stunt, effecting a strange synthesis of various mongrel styles where half the songs sounded like generic background music for promotional videos ... and the other half sounded like retreads of Mason Williams's sixties hit Classical Gas."

Queenan sets out to find music, movies, books, and TV that transcend awful, and the most remarkable thing about this book is that one never doubts for a moment that he actually subjected himself to all of the horrors he describes (including the literary efforts of Joan Collins). In an era where references to Burt Reynolds movies are used as hipster currency by people who have never endured Cannonball Run II, Queenan mocks nothing without experiencing it first. His odyssey throws up a few surprises--including the discovery that Barry Manilow is actually pretty good, and that most of the junk that clogs the arteries of popular culture never reaches the stratospheric level of badness achieved by someone like Michael Bolton. This leads Queenan to coin the term scheissenbedauern ("shit regret") to describe "the disappointment one feels when exposed to something that is not nearly as bad as one hoped it would be."

But generally, the answer to the question posed at the beginning of the book is "Really, really bad." Making fun of bad middlebrow entertainment may seem like a no-brainer, but when a writer as sharp as Queenan gets his claws into something like the collected works of Billy Joel, the results are hilarious. Like Jonathan Swift with a remote control, he gleefully shoots every fish in the pop-culture barrel. --Simon Leake.
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