To be taken with a grain of salt

Now that the tidal wave of hype over Andrew Morton's new book "Tom Cruise: An Unauthorized Biography" (St. Martin's $25.95) has somewhat receded, one can get a good look at what remains.

The book is ultimately about Scientology. Morton creates the idea of a biography in the book's first 100 pages, building up Cruise's life with simple background that, while occasionally interesting, is mere setup to Morton dropping the hammer on Scientology.

We discover, for example, that Cruise has short-man's complex. We learn he was shaped by a negligent father and was driven to succeed. We find out he was dyslexic and some people liked him in high school, and some didn't. This isn't groundbreaking information, nor is it alone worth paying full price for the hardcover version.

Now, the photo of Scientology founder L. Ron Hubbard administering a lie detector to a tomato? That's a whole different story.

The documentation of Cruise's early life aside, the book does have fascinating moments. Although Morton says he interviewed 130 people, it doesn't help his credibility that nowhere among them were Cruise, his wife, ex-wives, close family members or Scientology leader David Miscavige. But it's also clear, through documented stories of Scientology's wild tales of space aliens, truth detectors and vindictiveness toward defecting members, that no one close to the group could be on the record without fear of having his life torn apart.

But there are many holes and extreme statements that come off as Morton's mere speculation. For example, there's little evidence provided to support Morton's claim that Cruise is effectively the second-in-command of Scientology. Morton bases this on Cruise spending a lot of time with the apparently star-struck Miscavige, racing cars, skydiving and taking vacations together. Much of the book is Morton simply retelling stories we already know, such as Cruise's infamous interview/rant with NBC's Matt Lauer and his purchase of a sonogram machine to monitor the development of his daughter, Suri.

Holes and all, it's a hard book to put down, especially with wild tales of Scientology spilling forth page after page. The entertainment value falls off toward book's end, when Morton attempts to wrap up with some editorializing and a diagnosis of both Cruise and his religion that comes off preachy. But that shouldn't ruin the reading, as long as one can take it all with the proper grain of salt.