I am an ABBA fan. Therefore, I am willing to read just about anything which is published about the group. The Name of the Game was published in the UK in 1995, and is readily available in the U.S. Two of its three co-authors are connected to the music industry, some might say insiders. Ironically, because the book is criticized on certain ABBA-fan internet pages, I hoped that it might contain some bite.

The style of the book is chatty. The authors often resort to slang and sentence fragments in an apparent quest for a conversational tone. They project, or seek to project, both an intimacy with the subject matter and an air of being sagely above it. Oldham is a former manager of the Rolling Stones, and with his fellow authors apparently believes that a sneering irreverence is a requirement for credibility in both the rock and book worlds. In fact, it is the lack of sneer, and the projection of wholesomeness, by ABBA which they repeatedly argue precluded the Swedish group from having any credibility with music critics, and of being respected for their work.

It is nowhere claimed that the authors had access to any member of ABBA, or any ABBA insider. It is probable that they did not. Few details are offered, and sources rarely cited. The text offers no footnotes. Few ABBA fans will find anything new in this rehash.

More words are spent on Eurovision 1974 (discussed in three separate, but repetitive chapters) than on any other part of the ABBA story. There is almost no discussion of the songs themselves. There is virtually no analysis of the lyrics, except the uninventive correlation between certain sad songs and the parallel unraveling of Bjorn and Agnetha's marriage. The book leers, but it does not offer vision. Among the arguments, some well worn, a few intriguing:

• The Eurovision victory may have been the worst thing that happened for ABBA.
• ABBA hated to perform.
• The girls were stiff and wooden in performance
• Kidnap threats against Linda or Christian played a part in Agnetha's cloistering herself and her children, ruling out further touring
• Frida had the better range and more melodious voice
• ABBA was not a good live act; but on stage, Agnetha was the best.
• Frida was jealous of Agnetha, and they hated each other
• Agnetha and Bjorn's marriage was marked by violent arguments
• The glamorous and glossy public ABBA was a sham
• The greatness of the melodies is that they are complex, yet sound simple

One plainly stated thesis of the book is no less than that Ulvaeus and Andersson are the greatest pop music composers of the Twentieth Century. However, The Name of the Game offers only a short defense of the claim, and no scholarship. Given the authors' belief that ABBA were an irrelevance in the rock wars being waged during 1974-1982, and the brief, weak and facile argument they mount, I am suspicious that Oldham and Calder may have generated this claim mainly for its shock effect on the rock music establishment (bad boys, just like Mick), or merely to sell books, or perhaps, turning itself inside out, as a kind of mockery. I, for one, am interested to see someone make the case for B & B in all seriousness.

Notwithstanding their asserted respect for the musicianship of Ulvaeus and Andersson, the authors are quick to move the discussion into the alleged personal life of the men. Don't they drink too much. Isn't Benny lazy, and isn't it lucky that Bjorn could keep him working. Weren't their costumes ridiculous. Wasn't Bjorn ambitious. Wasn't it unseemly for Benny to dump Frida so.... The girls fare even less well. At least the guys are allowed to surmount these matters by virtue of their craft. The argument in favor of B & B becomes a kind of slap at Agnetha and Frida, about whom the treatment is by turns coy and catty. The authors objectify Agnetha (and, separately, her bottom) throughout. They define her as "the beautiful one," and give little articulate attention to her musical talents. They then present, in a kind of corruption of Hegel, that since Agnetha was the beautiful one, that made Frida the "plain" one, or the "bad" one. Again, little or no discussion of Frida's talents occurs. The authors never move past patronizing ABBA and the reader. They provide themselves an opportunity to discuss and dwell on "bottoms" and "looks" and that entire shallow end of interest, ultimately revealing an underlying misogynist streak.

One waits in vain for them to complete a thought, to give answers to their own questions: "Frida was (is) a beautiful woman as well," or "the women provided the group with a brilliant signature harmony," or "Agnetha and Frida are not lesbians." But no. These dirty old men scriven the insult, and pass it along, and leave it hang, titillated to write about it. As many have already pointed out, sufficient retellings of lies or rumors allow them to lurch toward acceptance as fact. This book is part of that problem.

The paperweight scholarship in this paperback is joined to abundant pop psychology and rank speculation. I continually found myself asking: "How do we know this? What happened that demonstrated this? Why is this important? What is your purpose, other than sensationalism?"

If you have some money to spend on ABBA this week, best to spend it elsewhere.