British Sarah Lacy May Be a Better Writer. Damn Him.

Typically when people ask if I hold grudges I point out that I'm friends with Robert Scoble. If you're in the Web scene, that says it all. Scoble was one of three big rabble rousers at the infamous SXSW incident that is pretty much literally all around me as I write this on a lonely Saturday night in the lobby of the Austin Hilton.

To the right is the table where Mark and I joked about how funny it would be if we staged some sort of book-selling controversy on stage. Oh, yes. Hilarious. To the left, the table where I sat in a stunned state afterwards with Brandee Barker, of Facebook, and my Yahoo publicist Stephanie Arnoldy-- a God send that week. And, of course on the other side of the lobby, there's the couches where Scoble awkwardly but sincerely apologized just before we both left town.

And did I mention I just started taking antibiotics for a virus that won't go away and am not allowed to have a drink right now?? If I were on Austin's Chamber of Commerce I would re-tagline this city: "Austin: It's Always a Character Building Experience." (I'm being mostly dramatic here, we've actually had a phenomenal time.)

But back to grudges: It occurred to me recently that I could probably replace Scoble's name with Paul Carr, who by his own admission was pretty brutally vicious to me at sxsw too, and, well still brings the whole thing up on the rare occasions we're in one another's country. In other words, fairly recently, as he was in town for TechCrunch50. And it was that visit that prompted me to finally read his book, Bringing Nothing to the Party, True Confessions of a New Media Whore.

I'd actually been really anxious to read it, but put it off once he sent me a copy with a rather ominous inscription:

"We'll see if you still describe me as the British Sarah Lacy after reading this. I only hope you are still speaking to me."

Whoa. Really? What could be so bad? After all, I knew I wasn't in it. Having decided that I liked Paul, I wasn't looking forward to potentially hating him, particularly since Robert Loch has all sorts of bizarre cross-promotional book events planned where Paul interviews me wearing a short skirt. (Um, not happening, btw. No one needs to see that.) As he brought up in his review of my book, how awkward if you like someone but hate their book.

Well, short answer: I did like it. In fact, I loved it. Very few people can pull off writing about themselves well. Even San Francisco's own Dave Eggers gets tedious about two-thirds through Heartbreaking Work of Staggering Genius. But Paul genuinely pulls it off. You don't love him, but you don't hate him either. At the end of the book, you have to respect someone who so brutally details his failure in business and relationships, in a way that has you laughing out loud most of the time.

I have to admit, I got a little worried in the first 20 pages or so as Paul explained the bubble, bust and all that and a bit later when he talked about Facebook and other Valley companies. In short-- writing about the Valley isn't his strong suit, which isn't surprising since he doesn't live here. Also, I realized about 30 pages in, that's sort of the point.

It's not a book by a Valley insider, and that's what makes it so remarkable. Even though our books couldn't be more different in tone, style and characters, amazingly they track really closely when it comes to themes and seminal Web moments, ala the YouTube acquisition and its ripple affects. It's a fascinating look at just how universal Web 2.0 is and the degree to which it's really not a Valley phenomenon. And whether or not Paul knows that F8 was the name of Facebook's conference, not a product, (ahem, he doesn't) he clearly has a pulse on the general angst of modern Web entrepreneurship. Trust me, as I get ready to leave Austin and hit city eight or so of my User Generated Book Tour, that angst is widespread. Anyone who's seduced by the Web dream, should read my book (duh!) but then read Paul's book immediately afterwards.

All that said, I'm not sure I think of him as the British Sarah Lacy anymore, or at least not in the same way. Not for whatever reason he feared when he wrote that inscription. That's still a mystery, because the book actually made me like him more. But because there were so many stark differences between the way we approached our books. For one, I've always considered myself more a reporter than a writer. I'm guessing Paul is the reverse. As such, I set out to tell a story of the most important people in the scene--people I wanted to deconstruct-- limiting any mention of myself to about four or five anecdotes where I'm mostly furniture. I was thrilled to put all of their fears and failures and vulnerabilities on display while discussing none of my own.

Paul's entire book, on the other hand, deconstructs himself on his quest to become rich and famous. Fame being one thing I've actually tried to avoid through most of my career. (Of course if I did hate him, I would point out that I'm actually far more famous without really trying. "Boo ya!" as he might say if the situation were reversed....) Frankly, I wouldn't have had the guts. I guess that's why I have about four jobs and he gets to just gallivant around being himself. That and he got paid in pounds.