Tonight, after Tuesday chess, Carol and I are headed to the Lit House to start working with the press there.
I think I'd like to begin working on a broadside, but I don't want to set one of my own poems. What to set? A friend's work? A favorite (Larkin, Yeats and Hughes all spring to mind)?
I think that as a warm up, while I turn this question over in my mind (and take opinions in the comments), I'll start by laying out the quote that serves as this blog's title and epigraph: "Love and fighting, and a little wine. Then you are always young, always happy." It's from Steinbeck's Tortilla Flat.
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Tuesday, October 25, 2011
Monday, April 11, 2011
Book Review: The Long Vigil by Jerome Charyn
Originally published on Pinstripe Alley
Jerome Charyn's Joe DiMaggio: The Long Vigil
makes a fascinating piece of social anthropology, centered on the
exploration of DiMaggio's relationship with Marilyn Monroe, how it
captured national attention, and how it has resonance as a cultural
touchstone.
Mining the wealth of biographies and documentaries about Joe D. and Marilyn, Charyn's slender volume is clearly a labor of love. He writes of living in the Bronx and following Joe's post-war exploits as a boy.
Charyn is puzzled by DiMaggio: "Why did his intensity and terrifying heat in center field diminish away from the field and leave him with so little sense of purpose?" Charyn writes in the prologue. "Why did [DiMaggio] become so dysfunctional and end his days in a golden ghetto, frightened of his own fame yet needing to guard it with a stubborn, maddening will?"
Mining the wealth of biographies and documentaries about Joe D. and Marilyn, Charyn's slender volume is clearly a labor of love. He writes of living in the Bronx and following Joe's post-war exploits as a boy.
Charyn is puzzled by DiMaggio: "Why did his intensity and terrifying heat in center field diminish away from the field and leave him with so little sense of purpose?" Charyn writes in the prologue. "Why did [DiMaggio] become so dysfunctional and end his days in a golden ghetto, frightened of his own fame yet needing to guard it with a stubborn, maddening will?"
Friday, March 18, 2011
Book Review: 56: Joe DiMaggio and the Last Magic Number in Sports by
Originally published on Pinstripe Alley
I was recently given a chance to read 56, a new biography of Joe DiMaggio. You can read my interview with author Kostya Kennedy here.
The book focuses on the young DiMaggio in 1941, an expectant father, a
budding superstar, but not yet an icon. Drawing from his interviews and
research, Kennedy draws us back to this world, showing us the characters
lives through their own eyes. This frees the book of the mustiness
that clings to most posthumous biographies.
The book functions on three levels: the intersection of DiMaggio the ball player and DiMaggio the man, the reactions and observations of those around him, and the view from the larger world.
The book functions on three levels: the intersection of DiMaggio the ball player and DiMaggio the man, the reactions and observations of those around him, and the view from the larger world.
Thursday, March 17, 2011
Interview with Kostya Kennedy, Author of 56: Joe DiMaggio and the Last Magic Number in Sports
Originally published on Pinstripe Alley
I recently got to talk by telephone with Kostya Kennedy, author of the new book 56: Joe DiMaggio and the Last Magic Number in Sports.
Not to give to much away from the book review I
plan to post tomorrow, but if you spend the $20 on that book, it'll be
the best investment you make this spring.
I definitely have to thank Mr. Kennedy for spending
time talking with me about my favorite ball player, and I hope you
enjoy reading this interview as much as I enjoyed conducting it.
J: I want to start with, why write about Joe DiMaggio? What is it that you find so fascinating about the Streak?
Tuesday, December 28, 2010
Book Review: The Bullpen Gospels
Originally published on Pinstripe Alley
Most sports books labor under the same burdensome motif: the subject is the greatest example there has ever been.
The Mick is the most tragic tragic-hero, while the Boss is the most contradictory contradiction; or this season or that season most embodies the soul of baseball. It's easy to understand why writers take this tack- why else would we bother to read the book?
So when a book comes along that is relatively hyperbole free, I find it refreshing.
Most sports books labor under the same burdensome motif: the subject is the greatest example there has ever been.
The Mick is the most tragic tragic-hero, while the Boss is the most contradictory contradiction; or this season or that season most embodies the soul of baseball. It's easy to understand why writers take this tack- why else would we bother to read the book?
So when a book comes along that is relatively hyperbole free, I find it refreshing.
Wednesday, December 22, 2010
Book Review: Yankee Classics by Les Krantz
Originally published on Pinstripe Alley
I was recently given the chance to review Yankee Classics: World Series Magic from the Bronx Bombers, 1921 to Today,
and I have to say I was pleasantly surprised. In a nice twist from the
sort of Yankee Classics that get airtime on YES, this coffee-table book
takes a look at the Yanks' World Series wins and losses.
Author Les Krantz gives about 2-3 pages to each Fall Classic, about half of which is taken up by some lovely photo spreads. In that space, Krantz is forced to recap the Series in a couple hundred words. He does an admirable job considering that limitation, though I'm sure hardcore fans will feel that the analysis is perfunctory for the World Series they can remember.
The book also features periodic sidebars highlighting things like notable events (The called shot, Larson's perfect game), important players (Yogi Berra and Lou Gehrig), and other historic footnotes (Yankee-Dodger matchups and Yankees in the Armed Forces).
Beyond the wonderful collection of images (both photographs and pictures of tickets, pins and program covers), I think one of the real strengths of the book is in connecting the key narrative of the season to the events of the postseason. This makes it a great starting point for younger fans, and for those of us who wish we had a stronger grasp on the team's early history.
3.5 stars (out of four): Only a more in-depth (and significantly longer) book would have been more satisfying, and Krantz gets extra points for not whitewashing Yankee history- from rightly noting the footnote status of the '51 World Series, to the lousy ratings for the 2000 Subway Series, to Alex Rodriguez's steroid admission, he's willing to remind us that the Yankees' dominance of baseball is not monolithic, uncontroversial or pre-ordained. Each Fall Classic (win or lose) is a unique event, and each is something to celebrate.
Author Les Krantz gives about 2-3 pages to each Fall Classic, about half of which is taken up by some lovely photo spreads. In that space, Krantz is forced to recap the Series in a couple hundred words. He does an admirable job considering that limitation, though I'm sure hardcore fans will feel that the analysis is perfunctory for the World Series they can remember.
The book also features periodic sidebars highlighting things like notable events (The called shot, Larson's perfect game), important players (Yogi Berra and Lou Gehrig), and other historic footnotes (Yankee-Dodger matchups and Yankees in the Armed Forces).
Beyond the wonderful collection of images (both photographs and pictures of tickets, pins and program covers), I think one of the real strengths of the book is in connecting the key narrative of the season to the events of the postseason. This makes it a great starting point for younger fans, and for those of us who wish we had a stronger grasp on the team's early history.
3.5 stars (out of four): Only a more in-depth (and significantly longer) book would have been more satisfying, and Krantz gets extra points for not whitewashing Yankee history- from rightly noting the footnote status of the '51 World Series, to the lousy ratings for the 2000 Subway Series, to Alex Rodriguez's steroid admission, he's willing to remind us that the Yankees' dominance of baseball is not monolithic, uncontroversial or pre-ordained. Each Fall Classic (win or lose) is a unique event, and each is something to celebrate.
Sunday, November 28, 2010
Book Review: The Last Boy by Jane Leavy
Originally published on Pinstripe Alley
When I first heard there would be a new Mickey Mantle autobiography, I cringed a little.
I've read The Mick and All My Octobers and countless narratives and analytical articles dedicated to Mantle's greatness, his faults and his superhuman prowess.
Then along comes Jane Leavy's The Last Boy: Mickey Mantle and the End of America's Childhood, which provides a breath of fresh air to traditional chronological biography.
Leavy's episodic approach to Mantle rightly presumes that her readers are already familiar with the ending of his story, relieving the narrative of the suspension of disbelief quality that so often makes biographies and histories stogy. This approach also allows Last Boy to become equal parts anthropology and media study, exploring the reasons the nation, especially the baby bombers, embraced the myth of Mantle so readily, and how the cozy relationship between the sports writers and the players allowed Mantle to hide his worst qualities and magnify he best.
For example, Chapter 6 (a personal favorite) explores "tape measure home run" Mantle drove out of Griffith Stadium in 1953. Section 1 sets the scene: a brief history and description of Griffith Stadium, the pitch and the flight of the ball, and Yankee PR Director Arthur Patterson's account of finding the ball. Section 2 begins the long search for Donald Dunaway, the "surprised and delighted Negro lad" from Patterson's story. Section 3 completes the Dunaway quest, filling in his background and laying out his version of the story. In Section 4, Leavy brings in a leading physicist to evaluate the possible trajectories of the ball.
Last Boy is a fantastic read, hard to put down, and with an interesting insight or anecdote on every page. Add to that the refreshing quality of the narrative, and the real work and exploration done by Leavy, and this may become the classic book about Mantle, the people who loved him, and the fans who adored him.
What was your favorite part of Last Boy? What didn't you like? Did you learn anything new, or was anything put in a fresh perspective?
I thought the exploration of Mantle's relationship with the media was one of the most insightful aspects of the book- the way it allowed Mantle to get away with anything, and fed his personal disregard for social niceties.
When I first heard there would be a new Mickey Mantle autobiography, I cringed a little.
I've read The Mick and All My Octobers and countless narratives and analytical articles dedicated to Mantle's greatness, his faults and his superhuman prowess.
Then along comes Jane Leavy's The Last Boy: Mickey Mantle and the End of America's Childhood, which provides a breath of fresh air to traditional chronological biography.
Leavy's episodic approach to Mantle rightly presumes that her readers are already familiar with the ending of his story, relieving the narrative of the suspension of disbelief quality that so often makes biographies and histories stogy. This approach also allows Last Boy to become equal parts anthropology and media study, exploring the reasons the nation, especially the baby bombers, embraced the myth of Mantle so readily, and how the cozy relationship between the sports writers and the players allowed Mantle to hide his worst qualities and magnify he best.
For example, Chapter 6 (a personal favorite) explores "tape measure home run" Mantle drove out of Griffith Stadium in 1953. Section 1 sets the scene: a brief history and description of Griffith Stadium, the pitch and the flight of the ball, and Yankee PR Director Arthur Patterson's account of finding the ball. Section 2 begins the long search for Donald Dunaway, the "surprised and delighted Negro lad" from Patterson's story. Section 3 completes the Dunaway quest, filling in his background and laying out his version of the story. In Section 4, Leavy brings in a leading physicist to evaluate the possible trajectories of the ball.
Last Boy is a fantastic read, hard to put down, and with an interesting insight or anecdote on every page. Add to that the refreshing quality of the narrative, and the real work and exploration done by Leavy, and this may become the classic book about Mantle, the people who loved him, and the fans who adored him.
What was your favorite part of Last Boy? What didn't you like? Did you learn anything new, or was anything put in a fresh perspective?
I thought the exploration of Mantle's relationship with the media was one of the most insightful aspects of the book- the way it allowed Mantle to get away with anything, and fed his personal disregard for social niceties.
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