Chronicles, Volume One

by Bob Dylan

A memoir of Dylan's early days, from the hungry Greenwich village years to the recording of Oh Mercy with Daniel Lanois in New Orleans and back again to the ‘60s and meeting John Hammond and signing to Columbia. It's an illuminating, rambling, interesting, contradictory, and frustrating book. While he uncovers a vast treasure trove of his varied influences, from Johnny Rivers to Dave von Ronk to Brecht’s "Pirate Jenny" to Genet's "The Balcony," he pays no mind to chronology; he deliberately leaves many dots unconnected. More maddening is his prose itself — sometimes poetic and crystal, sometimes rambling to the point of dementia, as if he's narrated the book into a tape recorder.

He makes grammatical mistakes, misusing "whom" and "myself," which is disheartening for a fan like me. But more often, the book taunts and teases with passages that seem inane: "Moe Asch was chatting with Mike. They were just standing around like people who knew what they were talking about." Is that expressive? Or worse: "I used to play the phenomenal 'Ebb Tide' by Frank Sinatra a lot and it had never failed to fill me with awe. The lyrics were so mystifying and stupendous. I could hear everything in his voice — death, God and the universe, everything. I had other things to do, though, and I couldn’t be listening to that stuff much." Wait, what? And Dylan has endless passages of what appears to be meaningless psychobabble: "With a new incantation code to infuse my vocals with manifest presence I could ride high… Thematic triplets making everything hypnotic." He goes on and on about changing, about a new vocal line and new way of performing, but then a few pages later remarks, "Here’s the thing — I wasn’t looking to express myself in any kind of new way." And yet, it is a fascinating book as well; Dylan's at his best talking about people and their psychologies, as when he discussing folk snobbery, or gushing over one of the musical greats like Robert Johnson. I doubt there'll ever be a volume two, but for all my carps about this one, I'd read the next if it ever came out.  

four stars 

Little Women

by Louisa May Alcott
1869

The last time I read this was probably 26 or so years ago. Being on a children’s literature kick lately, I thought I ought to revisit this 450-page “girls’ book.” The plot is linear, episodic, and simple. The four March sisters grow up to embrace their less exalted positions in the world and find happiness in the simple pleasures of family and home.

I can’t deny the lasting appeal of Alcott’s characters, especially the literate and introspective Jo (based on the author herself); and I enjoyed the depiction of the sisters growing up alongside their boy neighbor. But I had forgotten or possibly never realized how didactic, priggish, and tedious this book is, its primary purpose apparently being to moralize to young girls. The book’s a product of its time, of course, and I have no problem with moral lessons in literature as a general rule. But I do object to being moralized at directly by the narrator and to being told rather than shown the conclusions I as a reader must draw. Of course, I’m a thirty-something-year-old man in the 21st century, and the book was written for young girls in 1870. Still, so was Alice in Wonderland, and that’s timeless. This book, not so much. It also features some of the most nauseating fake children’s speech ever (“Opy doy, me’s tummin!”).

[read twice]

three stars

Hallowe'en Party

by Agatha Christie
1969

A Hercule Poirot mystery.  A young girl is drowned in the apple-bobbing bucket at a Halloween party after announcing that she had witnessed a murder.  Poirot investigates and learns that the girl was a habitual liar, but he uncovered a series of crimes and cover-ups in the small town as well.  Soon, Poirot is fitting everything together, but not before the killer strikes again.

This is a fantastic work by a master.  I’d never read a Christie mystery before, but it’s clear she’s an old hand by the time she wrote this one, 1969.  There are a couple of bits that clang awkwardly (repeated comments about the habits of the young and the state of criminal psychiatry), but of course, the book is a product of the era.  In terms of the mystery itself, Christie is eminently fair with the clues, but no less skilled with the red herrings.  The final scenes are done particularly well, with the suspense high and filler kept to a minimum, without any extraneous exposition.

five stars

Always Outnumbered, Always Outgunned

by Walter Mosley
1997

Socrates Fortlow, released from prison after 27 years for murder, tries to live with honor in Watts, without giving in to his murderous rage.  This is a collection of stories that originally appeared elsewhere, but interwoven with new material.  The immensely strong, guilt-ridden Socrates helps rid the neighborhood of a killer, takes in a young boy, convinces a man to stay with his wife, and insists on his rights when dealing with authority like the grocery store where he applies for a job.

It’s an amazing book, strong and blunt yet subtle.  Socrates is an all-too-human character: deeply flawed, but just trying to make his way in a world where the odds are stacked against him and to do the right thing.  He’s more than just a repentant man dealing out rough justice; he represents the anger and frustration inner-city blacks face dealing with crime, drugs, gangs, and absent fathers.  This is gritty and thought-provoking reading.

Brave New World

by Aldous Huxley

In the 26th century, after a destructive war, the world lives in peace, managed by World Controllers who use the principles of assembly-line manufacture and psychology to enforce a ubiquitous, passivist, pansexual, consumerist culture. Raised from cells in a lab (the idea of mothers and fathers characterized as obscene) into castes (Alpha to Epsilon) through hypnopedia and Skinner-like conditioning through pain, people’s mental and physical growth is chosen and accordingly expanded or stunted. To this end, independent art is abolished and pure science is discouraged; all innovations serve only to increase consumerism and the instantaneous gratification of simple desires. Books are not banned per se; people are simply trained not to care for books, instead being satisfied with video “feelies,” somatic drugs, and sexual release. Unlike Orwell’s 1984, there is no evil hypocrisy behind these principles, but a real desire for peace, stability and order. As the World Controller Mustapha Mond remarks, "What's the point of truth or beauty or knowledge when anthrax bombs are popping all around you?” To this world comes the Savage, a man born on an Indian reservation where there is still alcohol, hunting, religious ritual, and live birth. Fluent in Shakespeare and drawn to natural beauty, he is repelled and baffled by this clinical world in which everything comes easily. His keeper, Bernard Marx, an unusually neurotic Alpha, enjoys the uproar the Savage causes, but does not understand the implications of the upheaval his presence causes.

This is, quite simply, a brilliant book. Quite prescient (the instantaneous nature of YouTube and how quickly a video can become “viral” is just one thing that is foreshadowed here) and based on real principles, this is a world perhaps less frightening, because less violent, than Orwell’s, but a good sight creepier, because everyone is complicit in constructing the culture that limits them. The denigration of individualism, the natural inclination to associate physical size with value and to associate the difficult to process with the uninteresting, the worship of instant gratification and consumerism – these are all human impulses, and it’s easy to see how these can be manipulated in the name of larger principles.

[Read twice: 10/20/07, 5/10/11]  

five stars 

A Short History Of Nearly Everything

by Bill Bryson

Bryson writes with great enthusiasm and helpful clarity on science — from the Big Bang to tectonic plates, from evolution to extinction events. He notes the lives of some of the more eccentric men of learning, particularly in the 19th century, and he examines the ways in which they found out what we know.

Bryson’s a very readable writer: his voice is agreeable and, for the subject, suitably awed. I’m sure that at times he inadvertently sacrificed accuracy for breadth of scope, but that’s to be expected when a layman tackles such a vast array of unfamiliar material. I do think Bryson stumbles a bit in his avowed goal of explaining how we come to know some things, but the tone, and especially the ending — an impassioned plea for knowledge as savior of mankind — more than make up for any deficiencies in the information. 

four stars

Fish! Tales: Real Life Stories To Help You Transform Your Workplace And Your Life

by Stephen C. Lunden, Harry Paul, and John Christensen

A self-help book for ailing companies that I read for work. Told as a rather sappy parable in an irritatingly simplistic manner, its message is composed of four parts. One, Choose Your Attitude: even if your career choices are sometimes limited, one can decide to act “world famous” rather than complain. Two, Make Their Day: do something to catch customers’ (or co-workers’) attention and give them something to remember. Three, Be Present: pay attention and act like it. Four, Play: have some fun at work. All of which boils down to: stop complaining and actually do your job. As usual with books intended for managerial types, there’s a few grains of inspiration here wrapped up in an insult to someone with intelligence.