An Amazon reviewer has given Richard Grayson's The Brooklyn Diaries a one star review:
A bore is starred
I would give this interminable book five stars as a soporific; try to get through of a few pages of any of the six volumes of this semi-literate diary of a 1970s Brooklyn nobody who somehow managed to get a few books published (it must have been easier back in the day) and you will fall asleep faster than you can say either "Ambien" or "Lunesta."
On the other hand, if you find the adolescent mumblings of a pretentious, neurotic twentysomething who's under the delusion he's a writer utterly fascinating, you will absolutely adore this boring boring boring endless book and its mundane crap about the author's odd and dopey friends and family and his so-what views on such events as the July 4, 1976 Bicentennial as seen from Brooklyn Heights, the trivia of the 1972 Democratic convention in Miami Beach, and a time when large dogs apparently walked onto New York City subway trains by themselves with few straphangers (besides the author) taking notice.
The book's most interesting discovery proved to be learning that in 1979 you could get a book of short stories published without having a discernible ounce of talent, style, or indeed, brains.
Possibly the worst book about Brooklyn ever published, this book would more aptly be titled "The Brooklyn Diarrhea." Unfortunately, the author in his dotage still lives in the borough, so we're likely to be punished with yet another thirty years of his diurnal dreck.