I gave it a rating of so-so as I think I enjoyed this one the least out of all the Chinaski novels. Henry is approached by a bizarre French director about writing a screenplay of events taken from Factotum, the formidable years of a drunk writer. Much of the novel is a commentary on the absurd business maneuvering and back-stabbing by film producers and the prima donna egos and odd hang ups of the talent on set. The least dirty book of the series.