It was a difficult assignment, but someone had to do it. In an act of journalistic subterfuge worthy of Dian Fossey, Laurence Leamer went “undercover” for 15 years to spy on the wealthy denizens of the idyllic isle of Palm Beach, Florida. With admirable stoicism, Leamer endured dozens of rounds of golf, hours of relentless sun-tanning, and countless cocktail-fueled confessions about the inherent difficulties of being filthy rich. His subjects freely discuss their rampant sex lives, their annoyance at being saddled with spouses and children, and the various corrupt means by which they accumulated their piles of money. Naturally, the reader is left with the impression that no amount of wealth can ever purchase happiness, unless you happen to define happiness as a permanent vacation on a tropical island where a parade of virtual slaves waits to diligently service your every whim.
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