Boston author William Giraldi writes about the pitfalls of superstardom in 'About Face'

At the beginning of the pandemic, the actress Gal Gadot released a video of herself and several celebrity friends singing John Lennon’s “Imagine,” in what she claimed was an attempt to bolster the public’s spirits amid the early lockdowns. To say it was received poorly would be an understatement, and many wondered: Why didn’t anyone take her aside and let her know this wasn’t a good idea?

The answer, most likely, is that she has a face that’s hard to say no to.

Local author William Giraldi’s latest novel, “About Face” (out Sept. 6), explores the highs and lows of modern fame, the power of celebrity and how a pretty face can open lots of doors, some of which may have been better off left shut. Its subject is Val Face, a massive celebrity who parlayed his arresting beauty and unique skills as a motivational speaker into a preposterously successful career in film, television, theater, publishing, modeling and business.

After penning a scathing critique of the Face industrial complex for the local alt-weekly, “Beantown,” writer Seger Jovi is invited to follow him around on his latest tour and produce a feature profile on the star. He readily agrees and quickly becomes a member of Face’s entourage, shedding much of his objectivity, ethics, and dignity along the way.

When a menacing stalker begins harassing Face, Jovi is drawn even further into the inner circle, all the while trying to figure out how exactly his subject went from Valentino Detti, a regular East Boston kid, to Val Face, celebrity megastar. As we follow Jovi on his quest, Giraldi ticks off all the hallmarks of an American picaresque: a big cast of characters with goofy names, an irreverent, discursive narrator bumbling through circumstances he doesn’t fully grasp and a shaggy dog plot that’s not particularly concerned about where it’s ultimately headed.

The characters in the book insist that Face is imbued with a preternatural charisma that touches people in their souls and opens them up to new, life-changing ways of thinking. But it seems like he just has a really, really pretty face and, because of that, people fall all over themselves to praise whatever it is he does because he’s nice to look at—the attractiveness bias at work.

“You see this kid… he looks like some Roman god,” says one early devotee, “and you just can’t ignore him.” Giraldi tells us Face is magnificent ad nauseam, but we never get to see it. In his conversations with Jovi, Face comes off as a shallow bore. He doesn’t do anything particularly interesting at his massive motivational speaking events, but the crowds still go wild.

Perhaps this is Giraldi’s point: That a fast-talking, good-looking charlatan can toss off a bunch of generalized, self-help-inspired platitudes — what Jovi calls “the glib paradoxes Kahlil Gibran trafficked in” — and make it appear to an easily dazzled public that an epiphany has taken place even though nothing has actually happened at all. In the end, he seems to realize that his power comes from his beauty, if only subconsciously, and this awareness drives his actions in the final encounter with his stalker.

At times “About Face” feels like an old manuscript that was lightly updated to fit the present moment. Face and Jovi are both meant to be in their early 30s, and yet so much about them seems, well, old. They avoid the internet and have a deep-seated disdain for social media. Together, they engage in an extended argument about the merits of various Bruce Springsteen albums that is loaded with middle-aged-dad energy. Jovi, in particular, is prone to making obscure or conspicuously dated references that would have even Dennis Miller reaching for the index of his Funk & Wagnalls.

For a while, it seems like Jovi is going to be the one to finally shout that the emperor has no clothes. “You’re just another American whoring after fame any way you can,” he yells during the Springsteen contretemps. “You’re a corporation, not a charismatic.” But, disappointingly, he too ends up sucked in by Face’s allure. “I still think you’re special,” he says to Face near the book’s close. “And I think you deserve your success.” Ultimately, even an inveterate curmudgeon like Jovi can’t help but want to stay in the good graces of a pretty face. Readers, who see nothing but the words on the page, may feel otherwise.