A couple of weeks ago on a talk show -- which is essentially what Rex Reed's books are -- he contended that he was a Renaissance Man in a rock 'n' roll era, although you can't prove it by this. Read Rex on Jacqueline Susann's last book which has ""warmth, humor, wit, sharply defined characters, complex relationships"" et bull. Read Rex on almost everybody else (except Doris Day who left him with a ""milkshake hangover"") and you'll find that the one-time enfant irrepressible terrible is generally generous to the point where that milkshake hits your gorge -- ""deliciously insane"" isn't it -- and he's writing about anybody who is anybody whether it's Bette Midler or Jeanne Woodward, George C. Scott or Richard Chamberlain, Tennessee Williams and Mastroianni (he's stronger here), Merle Oberon (""Age is just something they stamp in your passport"") or Tuesday Weld (her voice is ""a freckled whisper of a gurgle""). Occasionally the old Rex, before he became saftig, is on location -- i.e., Hitchcock who ""accepts his own legend as if it were a weather report."" But for the most part this is only boutique penny candy.