three old favorites
mi amigo steve-o at the caravan of dreams tagged me with this assignment yesterday:
The Little-Known Favorites. Rules: List and describe three of your favorite books that other people might not be familiar with. Then tag five people.
rock from the beginning by nik cohn. i've blogged about thisun before, but over the years (since i first read it, age 13, when it was still relatively new) it's the formative influence i've returned to the most frequently and with the greatest relish. in a nutshell, it's one 22-year-old wiseacre's take, written off the top of his head in a single weekend of manic inspiration, of the history of rock from its inception up to the then (1969)-present, when he figured "the whole trip was dead." i've tried with varying degrees of success to emulate his methodology, but have a long way to go to capture his quality of insight. unlike greil marcus, who can intellectualize you into thinking you wanna hear music you _know_ you don't like, and legs mcneil 'n' gillian mccain, who managed to capture the whole flavor of a musical era without including a single word of description of the music, cohn's prose manages to encapsulate in a compelling way the heat, excitement, and immediacy of experiencing the originators he describes for the first time. my comments refer to the 'riginal edition, not the cowardly early-'70s revision (retitled awopbobaloobop alopbamboom: the golden age of rock) where he backed off some of his more outrageous original statements (surely not for fear of libel suits?). in the fullness of time, he's also become a noteworthy travel writer (the heart of the world, yes we have no: adventures in the other england) who specializes in the oddball and the eccentric, always with the same keen observer's eye and underlying affection for his subjects that he displayed in rock from the beginning. which reminds me, i still need to get his nawlins hip-hop tome triksta.
beneath the underdog by charles mingus. i always say that all musicians' stories are the same, but not thisun. written during a period (late '60s) when he was off the scene and in 'n' out of mental institutions, this is the titanic bassist-composer's autobiography, an epic journey through his initiation into the ways of manhood via the tutelage of mentors like his muso friend buddy collette's pop and his pimp cousin billy boness; his abiding passions for two women, donna and lee-marie; his stormy relationship with his authoritarian father; his experience of racism (a recurring theme in the recollections of all black musos of a certain day and time, no matter how much some white fans might protest that "it's all about the music"); and his development as a musician (the ongoing dialogue with his friend, the late trumpeter fats navarro, is particularly poignant). in the same way as mingus compositions like "meditations" and the black saint and the sinner lady, the book's narrative interweaves several recurring themes, although some readers might say it lacks resolution (fans will know that came in his '70s musical resurgence); that said, you needn't be a mingus fan to appreciate his writing. i was delighted to find a first edition of this at recycled in denton a decade or so ago.
the 13th valley by john m. delvecchio. i was going to include tim o'brien's the things they carried on this list, which is nominally about infantrymen in vietnam but i like for what it says about the power of stories and storytelling. however, the fact that my middle daughter was assigned to read o'brien's book in high school is probably indicative that more people are familiar with it than is appropriate for this assignment. so, i'll go with delvecchio, which was recommended to me by my writing mentor at what was then tarrant county junior college, the late benard doss (ben) trail (see the permalinks to his work on this blog). ben was a 'nam vet and hated a lot of the litterchur that emerged from that war, but spoke highly of three books in particular, all of which i quickly devoured: kenn miller's tiger the lurp dog, josiah bunting's the lionheads, and thisun. delvecchio was a g.i. journalist with the 101st airborne division, 1970-71. although the action chronicled in the film hamburger hill took place a year before delvecchio's tour, some of the characters and situations depicted in that film have the flavor of his book, and i wouldn't be surprised if someone involved in the production read it (although he's not credited). within the framework of describing a military operation, delvecchio shifts between the points of view of three characters: the platoon leader l-t brooks, his platoon sergeant (and short-timer) egan, and new guy chelini a.k.a. cherry, all three of whom undergo different kinds of inner struggles. the dialogues between brooks and his men might seem to have too weighty thoughts emerging from the mouths of these grunts, but only to a reader who's foolish enough to believe that soldiers are stupid.
ok, steve-o, i took out the papers and the trash. now, who to tag?
The Little-Known Favorites. Rules: List and describe three of your favorite books that other people might not be familiar with. Then tag five people.
rock from the beginning by nik cohn. i've blogged about thisun before, but over the years (since i first read it, age 13, when it was still relatively new) it's the formative influence i've returned to the most frequently and with the greatest relish. in a nutshell, it's one 22-year-old wiseacre's take, written off the top of his head in a single weekend of manic inspiration, of the history of rock from its inception up to the then (1969)-present, when he figured "the whole trip was dead." i've tried with varying degrees of success to emulate his methodology, but have a long way to go to capture his quality of insight. unlike greil marcus, who can intellectualize you into thinking you wanna hear music you _know_ you don't like, and legs mcneil 'n' gillian mccain, who managed to capture the whole flavor of a musical era without including a single word of description of the music, cohn's prose manages to encapsulate in a compelling way the heat, excitement, and immediacy of experiencing the originators he describes for the first time. my comments refer to the 'riginal edition, not the cowardly early-'70s revision (retitled awopbobaloobop alopbamboom: the golden age of rock) where he backed off some of his more outrageous original statements (surely not for fear of libel suits?). in the fullness of time, he's also become a noteworthy travel writer (the heart of the world, yes we have no: adventures in the other england) who specializes in the oddball and the eccentric, always with the same keen observer's eye and underlying affection for his subjects that he displayed in rock from the beginning. which reminds me, i still need to get his nawlins hip-hop tome triksta.
beneath the underdog by charles mingus. i always say that all musicians' stories are the same, but not thisun. written during a period (late '60s) when he was off the scene and in 'n' out of mental institutions, this is the titanic bassist-composer's autobiography, an epic journey through his initiation into the ways of manhood via the tutelage of mentors like his muso friend buddy collette's pop and his pimp cousin billy boness; his abiding passions for two women, donna and lee-marie; his stormy relationship with his authoritarian father; his experience of racism (a recurring theme in the recollections of all black musos of a certain day and time, no matter how much some white fans might protest that "it's all about the music"); and his development as a musician (the ongoing dialogue with his friend, the late trumpeter fats navarro, is particularly poignant). in the same way as mingus compositions like "meditations" and the black saint and the sinner lady, the book's narrative interweaves several recurring themes, although some readers might say it lacks resolution (fans will know that came in his '70s musical resurgence); that said, you needn't be a mingus fan to appreciate his writing. i was delighted to find a first edition of this at recycled in denton a decade or so ago.
the 13th valley by john m. delvecchio. i was going to include tim o'brien's the things they carried on this list, which is nominally about infantrymen in vietnam but i like for what it says about the power of stories and storytelling. however, the fact that my middle daughter was assigned to read o'brien's book in high school is probably indicative that more people are familiar with it than is appropriate for this assignment. so, i'll go with delvecchio, which was recommended to me by my writing mentor at what was then tarrant county junior college, the late benard doss (ben) trail (see the permalinks to his work on this blog). ben was a 'nam vet and hated a lot of the litterchur that emerged from that war, but spoke highly of three books in particular, all of which i quickly devoured: kenn miller's tiger the lurp dog, josiah bunting's the lionheads, and thisun. delvecchio was a g.i. journalist with the 101st airborne division, 1970-71. although the action chronicled in the film hamburger hill took place a year before delvecchio's tour, some of the characters and situations depicted in that film have the flavor of his book, and i wouldn't be surprised if someone involved in the production read it (although he's not credited). within the framework of describing a military operation, delvecchio shifts between the points of view of three characters: the platoon leader l-t brooks, his platoon sergeant (and short-timer) egan, and new guy chelini a.k.a. cherry, all three of whom undergo different kinds of inner struggles. the dialogues between brooks and his men might seem to have too weighty thoughts emerging from the mouths of these grunts, but only to a reader who's foolish enough to believe that soldiers are stupid.
ok, steve-o, i took out the papers and the trash. now, who to tag?
posted by stashdauber at 10:05 AM
1 Comments:
I read the 13th Valley when I was in 8th grade and it rocked my adolescent mind. I was interesting to me because growing up in the 70s, NO ONE I knew talked about Vietnam, at least not to kids. I read this and though, Oh, this is what it's about. Another book along those lines that I love is The Things They Carried by Tim O'Brien. It deals with lots of my favorite themes: stories and memories and how we construct the narrative of our lives.
Regarding Rock From The Beginning, it raises an interesting question: how do you write about music. I think this is REALLY hard. Thoughts?
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