How About ‘I Can’t Believe How Great He Is’?

[The] publication of Tom King’s biography, “The Operator: David Geffen Builds, Buys and Sells the New Hollywood,” has incensed this pioneer of the California rock scene. . . . Reportedly, Geffen regrets that he granted access to King, a Wall Street Journal reporter, and has been referring to King as “Kitty Kelley” when bad-mouthing the bio.

--Salon

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From the Desk of Napoleon Bonaparte, Island of St. Helena

Dear Editor:

Enclosed please find the corrected galley pages of Ian Silverberg’s coming biography of me, “Napoleon Bonaparte: An Evil, Evil Guy Who Is Even Shorter Than You Thought He Was.”

As you may recall, I handpicked Mr. Silverberg as my biographer because he promised to give me the same balanced treatment he gave the subjects of his earlier biographies, “Robespierre: Good-Looking, All-Around Great Guy” and “Marat: You Wouldn’t Believe How Great This Guy Was.” Repeatedly, Mr. Silverberg assured both me and my agent that he would downplay the unfair “tyrant” image the press has tagged me with and would, instead, focus on the real me: a compassionate, caring man who has, on occasion, been kind to small animals.

For five years, I let Mr. Silverberg follow me around as I conquered Europe, including a three-hour grilling session at Waterloo about my “turn-ons” and “turn-offs,” which, upon reflection, may have distracted me from the battle at hand. While I didn’t expect Mr. Silverberg’s biography to be an unqualified love letter, I never dreamed he would write a book that, in its first paragraph, describes me as both “the devil incarnate” and “smaller than a breadbox.”

As for his promise of “balance,” his book never mentions that I have a prankish sense of humor, cry at sad songs and secretly dream of being a children’s book illustrator. Instead, if one peruses the book’s index, one finds no fewer than 30 separate entries under “Bonaparte, Napoleon, Unprovoked Acts of Cruelty of.”

There is also the question of Mr. Silverberg’s sources. I know that when you conquer as many countries as I did, you’re going to put some noses out of joint--and those noses are going to talk. But Mr. Silverberg apparently never met a vindictive psychopath he didn’t like, with my ex-wife topping the list. Here’s a whiff of her “reliable” account of my coronation, from page 236: “At first, no one could see Napoleon, even on his tippy-toes, so he had to stand on an orange crate. The pope, clowning around, said, ‘Helloooo down there!’ and faked throwing the crown on Napoleon’s head like a ring toss.” If you want to know my opinion of my ex-wife’s credibility, you’ll have to wait for a little biography I’m writing: “Josephine Bonaparte: Big Old Lying Drunk.”

Adding insult to injury, Mr. Silverberg invariably misquotes me. When he asked me what my “turn-ons” were, I distinctly remember saying, “Ice-cream sundaes, warm summer nights and long walks on the beach,” not “The really cool holes that cannonballs make in things.” As for “turn-offs,” I am certain I said “phony people,” not “When I froze my ass off in Moscow.” Finally, I am positive I never said, “Able was I ere I saw Elba,” a remark that makes me sound like a complete dope.

Once you have removed the offending passages as indicated, I think you will have a 14-page book we can all be proud of. As for the title, I would recommend changing it to either “Napoleon: A Very Nice Man” or “Napoleon: Six Feet Five Inches of Wonderful”--or, as long as we’re thinking outside the box: “The Corsican Kid Stays in the Picture.”

I remain

Yours truly,

Napoleon Bonaparte *