“[Sterry] more than delivers on the promise of his title, and readers looking for sex, drugs, and New York-style debauchery will find it in spades . . . There are two underlying love stories, one between Sterry and a coworker, and one between Sterry and his craft; both enrich the narrative with genuine heart. Sterry possesses an engaging writing style, and fans of his earlier memoir, Chicken: Self-Portrait of a Young Man for Rent, will not be disappointed. Recommended for large public library collections and cultural media studies collections.” —Library Journal
“The passages are compelling, and often wickedly raunchy . . . We learn to trust his sincerity”In quick prose, [Sterry] recreates the atmosphere around him . . . allow[ing] us to see what he saw and to feel what he felt . . . We are given plenty of show.” —Christina Eng, San Francisco Chronicle
“Enjoyable, funny, slickly written, and almost as meticulously choreographed as a Chippendales show.” —The Independent
On David Henry Sterry’s Chicken:
“Compulsively readable, visceral, and very funny. The author, a winningly honest companion, has taken us right into his head, moment-by-moment: rarely has the mentality of sex been so scrupulously observed and reproduced on paper…[he] clearly possesses the storyteller’s art.” —Phillip Lopate, author of Portrait of My Body
“Sterry writes with comic brio, [he] honed a vibrant outrageous writing style and turned out this studiously wild souvenir of a checkered past.” —Janet Maslin, The New York Times