Star News:

“I’ve pushed polluters and promoted porn. I’ve shilled for Shell and lied for Tide. I’ve helped a major pharmaceutical company sell a drug that does nothing by promoting a disease that doesn’t exist. And that’s just the old stuff on my resume.”

Meet Scott Singer (formerly Schulherr), an L.A.-based freelance guerrilla publicist. In other words, a flack – and the anti-hero and narrator of Slick, a slick first novel from author Daniel Price.

Mr. Price, a recovering screenwriter, runs a satirical Web site, AbusedbytheNews.com, out of Los Angeles. He also serves as director of media education for Loud and Clear, a non-profit group promoting voter education and public accountability.

(There’s also a local tie: The author is the son of Yona Bar-Zeev of Wilmington and visits the area frequently.)

Not surprisingly, his Slick reads like a hip, hard-wired, Net-savvy version of Upton Sinclair’s The Jungle, doing for the public relations industry what the earlier book did for meat-packing.

Like any pro, Scott understands that, normally, any publicity is good publicity. When we meet him, he’s off organizing a nude protest march by college co-eds who’ll claim that a new Hawaiian luxury hotel threatens the endangered monk seal.

He’s being paid by the hotel chain, since the resort needs business. Hordes of naked college girls are bound to attract TV cameras and press photographers, who’ll give it tons of free advertising. (Naturally, Scott was careful to recruit only fresh, good-looking undergraduates, not the chunky, hairy-legged variety.)

Soon, however, Scott is assigned to bigger game: Damage control for Hunta, a hot young rap star who’s positioned to go mainstream and become the next Will Smith.

Trouble is, Hunta is about to face rape and sexual harassment charges from a mid-level executive at his level, Mean World Records – a smart woman of impeccable reputation.

Hunta’s actually innocent. Trouble was, right after consensual sex with her, he made the mistake of phoning his wife. (The rapper has what one character calls a “Clintonesque” marriage.)

Still, Hunta is in hot water, particularly since the latest school shooting has been linked to one of his songs. Somehow, Scott has to defuse the situation before the media turn his client into the next O.J. or Kobe Bryant.

Scott’s solution: Recruit another woman to cry “rape” first. Her charges would freeze out any media attention to the actual “victim.” Then, cleverly expose the hired “victim” as a fraud – have her admit she faked the charges at the behest of some rich, anonymous white rap-hater. Hunta will end up as spotless as polished Teflon.

Of course, the hoax doesn’t quite go as planned …

Along the way, Mr. Price delights in exposing the tricks of the PR trade. Some readers, for example, might still be shocked to realize how many local television-news stories begin as “video news releases” (VNRs) from businesses or lobbyists. (“It’s pretty easy to tell the two apart. That fire in Century City? New. That new laser technique to remove wrinkles? VNR.”)

He recounts the history of rap in one easy lesson and traces the history of the media hoax back to Benjamin Franklin.

He also creates a memorable portrait of Scott, who talks in a staccato stream-of-consciousness familiar to anyone who reads many Web logs. Scott has his principles – he won’t do politics – but he generally relates to ethics the way the tone-deaf relate to music.

If Scott were Adolf Eichmann, he wouldn’t just say he was only following orders; he’d brag that the killing of 5 million Jews saved trillions in pensions and nursing-home costs and that the Holocaust made the state of Israel possible. (The monk seals, he claims, are going to end up extinct anyway.)

Most other characters in Slick, however, fail to evolve beyond cartoon caricatures.

Mr. Price also has trouble with one of the key lessons of Creative Writing 101: Cut out passages that don’t directly advance the plot or the point you’re trying to make, even if you really, really like those parts. Slick clocks in at 464 pages, and could easily shrink to three-quarters of that size with little real loss.

Still, Slick marks an impressive debut for a satirical moralist who can stand comparison to Christopher Buckley or the young Evelyn Waugh. (Ben Steelman -- 10/03/04)