Book Review: Telling Lies and Getting Paid

"With this magnificent work, Konik cements his role as dean of the world's gambling writers," writes Andy Glazer on the back jacket of Telling Lies and Getting Paid, Michael Konik's second book of gambling stories.

It sounded pretty flattering, but I wasn't buying it. I know that most people who give these quotes on the back jacket of books are friends of the author who lack objectivity. And in this case, I had evidence to prove it. Not only are Konik and Glazer the best of friends, they're also practically next-door neighbors. With a book of my own and my ego in full swing, I opened the book ready to tear it to shreds.

It turns out I was drawing stone-cold dead.

If I had to nitpick, I'd say Konik's only flaw is that the title of this book isn't as creative as his first book of gambling stories, The Man With the $100,000 Breasts, which is also a must-read. But as interesting as $100,000 Breasts is, it still can't touch the story that gives this book its title. Telling Lies and Getting Paid details Konik's experience playing in the World Series of Poker. He doesn't tell you what to do with pocket queens in a raised pot, nor does he explain to you how he won a million dollars (he didn't, and when you read the story, you'll realize how inconsequential his actual results are). What makes the story so compelling is that he lets you in on his inner thoughts. He shows you his human side. He tells you how he, a man who makes his living by reading people to get the best of it, was conned by a woman who manipulated him the same way he manipulates other poker players and pointspreads. What's most impressive is that he isn't afraid to tell you how he felt. It's Konik's ability to remove the layer of self-consciousness that plagues us all from showing our true selves that really makes this book special. After I finished reading the book, I wanted to call him and invite him out for a beer.

Another one of the stories I enjoyed was about the offshore sportsbook industry. Aside from telling an interesting story, he also provides specific reviews at the end of it as to which sportsbooks to avoid. Granted, it might be a bit dated, but I wouldn't make another bet with an offshore establishment until I had read it.

A story that will interest poker players is about a woman he calls the "Poker Flower," Cindy Violette. Konik describes how she evolved from a pregnant, unmarried 22-year-old, dealing blackjack and poker in Downtown Las Vegas, to a 38-year-old world-class poker player. It's an inspirational story for anyone grinding it out in a $1-$2 game, male or female.

The story "Holy Macau" not only introduces you to a region of the world where gambling flourishes, but also shows Konik's versatility and depth as a writer as he describes the cultural phenomenon of gambling to the Chinese. I've heard the metaphor that residents of Hong Kong were born with dollar signs in their eyes, and with this story, Konik brings it to life.

Perhaps my favorite line in the book comes during Konik's discussion of the game show Who Wants to Be a Millionaire. Weaving a simple tutorial on odds with common sense, Konik describes how he continually watches contestants make poor decisions on Regis' show. He even goes so far as to debunk the excuse that most people make when they don't use simple probability to get the best of it. Utility theory, as he describes, "basically says that if the money you stand to lose could be better used in your real life than in a highly positive gambling proposition, it's better not to gamble it all." It's the thought process of those who, without pondering the odds, make decisions using logic such as: "$125,000 could buy me lots of things, so I'm not going to risk it by getting greedy."

By walking through different scenarios and pointing out simple probability, Konik shows how irrational this line of thinking can be. It's these types of people, the same who play slot machines, who make decisions based on emotion and feelings rather than logic that drive Konik nuts. In reaction to the utility theory, Konik offers my favorite line: "My position is this: Either you believe in the concept of expected value or you don't; it doesn't apply only when you're comfortable." Spoken like a true risk-taker, a winning risk-taker.

If there's one criticism of Konik, it is that he's almost too literary. There were many times throughout the book that I wished I hadn't goofed off so much in art history class. But I can't say I'd tell him to do it any differently. There are so few literary writers in the poker community (Jim McManus being another) that I think it can do us all some good to read a few polysyllabic words besides "youfrickindrewoutonme" and "acekingnogood" from time to time. The combination of a gambler who has been in the trenches and writes like a novelist is hard to beat.

I may have blown Andy Glazer's cover of objectivity, but I know Andy wants to be the best, and he gets points for tipping his cap to a friend he feels honor-bound to accept as his better. In any event, his assessment of Konik is now the same as my own: "With this magnificent work, Konik cements his role as dean of the world's gambling writers." I can't wait for the next one.

Greg Dinkin is the co-founder of Venture Literary, an agency that works with writers to find publishers for their books (www.ventureliterary.com). He is the author of The Poker MBA (www.thepokermba.com), and is currently co-writing the memoirs of Amarillo Slim, entitled Amarillo Slim in a World Full of Fat People.