Much like parents with a newly bi-pedal toddler, I've found it's always best to give first-time novelists a wide-open area in which to stagger about drunkenly. Assembling a series of characters and events that merge cohesively and somewhat effectively is a feat many have attempted and most have failed. As standardized tests bequeath their quarry with points for simply reciting their names, I stack the deck in favor of the neophyte author for achieving the first and biggest hurdle of his or her budding career – a finished product fit for human consumption.

The Devil of Shakespeare, is at its heart, a cautionary tale about celebrity, ambition, and the societal worship of fame and glory, and our author, a former major label musician, is better equipped to address such topics than most. Set modestly in the future and accented with highly-entertaining and thinly-veiled references to well-known people in entertainment and politics, McCarthy introduces the reader to a world where seemingly not a single person operates without his/her own self-interest and advantage as his/her primary motivation. Admittedly, the world can sometimes feel like a human-shaped mine field but even the inmates at HBO's "Oz" have some redeeming qualities.

There are glimpses of protagonist Darian Fable as a susceptible and victimized youth, and photograph static backward glances toward his pre-mega-celebrity in Hollywood. However, the remaining gaps fail to provide the bridge between his naïve childhood goals and the stained-but-emotionally-struggling actor attempting to unmangle the lives of himself and his equally dysfunctional wife. This lapse prevents the reader from establishing genuine empathy for Fable, and thereby negating the coarse and violent climax, resulting in only vague puzzlement and curiosity.

It is evident throughout The Devil of Shakespeare what McCarthy intended with his cynical but not lascivious view of the L.A. celebrity mill, but unfortunately he fell short. His novel is not without redeeming features, most notably the biting facts about easily-recognizable public figures, but lacks in supporting character depth and plot feasibility, especially some decision-making motivation.

In the end, the future of Billy McCarthy's writing career can be adapted from a common phrase of band directors and music teachers worldwide, the one thing every student loathes to hear:

Practice. Practice. Practice.

http://www.billymccarthy.com/