In fairness to Christopher Buckley, I should explain that I read much of his Supreme Courtshipwhile bouncing through the Olympic Peninsula in the back seat of a friend’s car. So, I assume, motion sickness is responsible for the nausea I felt while reading the novel and the nausea that overcomes me when I think back on the novel.
Supreme Courtship is a satirical take on our celebrity culture and judicial and political machinery. After a wildly unpopular sitting president (sound familiar?) is unsuccessful in attempts to fill a vacancy on the Supreme Court, he nominates a feisty and popular TV judge.
Along the way we meet pompous presidential advisers, pompous Senators cum actors, and pompous television producers. On second thought, maybe it was the parade of pomposity that made me nauseous.
The book is not devoid of humor; I even genuinely laughed out loud. Twice. But, looking back, I don’t recollect it fondly and can’t strongly recommend it. For satire, it seems somehow empty. And empty shouldn’t be sold in hardback.
