Archive for the 'Review' Category

22
Aug
09

My Sister’s Keeper by Jodi Picoult

my sister's keeper

My Sister’s Keeper got picked up to become a movie before I even knew it was a book. I’ve never read a Jodi Picoult novel, though her books are my girlfriend’s sister’s favorites. I didn’t know what to think of her; at times, I feel like she just writes a lot of romance novels.

But my opinion changes with my reading of Keeper, an finely crafted book about a family’s fight to save their daughter Kate from the leukemia she has suffered from through most of her life. Her sister, Anna, is a perfect donor match for Kate because she was biologically engineered to be one – all of Anna’s life has been devoted to giving lymphocytes or bone marrow to Kate, making her life just as hectic. Now, Kate’s kidneys are failing and she needs Anna to donate one, but Anna wants to be her own person. Told through each character’s own point of view, we are presented with the subsequent court battle over morals and ethics, of who and when has the right to their own medical choices, but also a mental battle of what is right for Kate.

Rarely in this novel is there a moment without emotion; Picoult’s words are crafted so delicately and precise that each character feels fresh and different as we switch between them. Humor, sadness, anger: all come together to blend into a scenario that is so unique and shocking that the dispute between the family feels close to home.

Reality, though, is always just a step away for Picoult’s book. The characters progress just as people would, growing with their experiences and being moved by those around them. People will find favorites to befriend here; it’s human nature, especially since these characters are so three-dimensional. But what stands out as a touch of unfortunate realism is the ending, which I will not divulge here. A bit coincidental, perhaps, but for those who know the ending of the story, the quick way in which the event happens is so much like life – life does not catch up with us, we catch up with life.

Emotionally moving and fantastically searing, My Sister’s Keeper is written with finesse and wit. Picoult always ends with an emotional line, some unforgettable. Her prose moves quickly while maintaining that psychic weight. We are carried along on a tide of writing, barely wondering about what’s coming next as we are so caught in the moment – almost as if Picoult meant us to be, mimicking how Anna and her family are ferried along by Kate’s sickness.

26
Jul
09

The Golden Sores – A Peaceable Kingdom

peaceable kingdom

From the opening moments of A Peaceable Kingdom’s first track, “Double Gyres,” it’s difficult to pinpoint just what will become of The Golden Sores’ new record. Will the droning organ discard its slow buzzing sustain for a more prominent melody? Will the tones that take the forefront become a lead-in to post-rock leanings? How many layers will they use, and will they combine together in an effervescent climax?

As is soon apparent, though, The Golden Sores bring about an uplifting drone concept. Fuzzy, shifting, and pulsing layers push and pull, finally converging together in most songs to create a swell that is often magical and high-spirited. Oftentimes, drone can be a very dark genre, focusing more on the low end of the audial spectrum rather than higher notes. The Golden Sores prove that bleak, grim songs are not the only compositions to entrance a listener, however, as their hypnotic brand of peaceful (as the title suggests) and exultant drone is so effective in inducing trance-like qualities in the listener that it serves less as ambience and more as a sense of enlightenment.

Most of the songs on this disc tend towards a simple setup – start with a slow-moving rhythm, preferably one with sustained chords, snake in a more melodic and generally louder layer, and gradually move towards a crescendo of shimmery bliss. But while almost every song on the album follows this format, it doesn’t get repetitive simply because of how varied each song becomes. There’s something to be said about Steve Fors’ and Chris Miller’s virtuosity with their keyboards and their push-pull duality. When the layers are apart, they are constantly thriving around and through each other, where the listener loses no focus on either part. When they are together, it feels rightfully so: an inevitable convergence of two patterns that creates a stronger whole.

One may be thinking that The Golden Sores’ more upbeat, optimistic sound would lose their interest; part of the draw of some noise and drone is its confrontational demeanor. A Peaceable Kingdom may be peaceful as a whole, but a brooding tone encapsulates parts of the lengthy songs. “The Awful Rowing Toward God” starts out menacing with low bass-y notes, only to escalate into a more joyous eruption. “We’ll Wield Fire” begins with ominous buzzing, only to slowly work in a lulling organ. And most importantly, not all of the songs collide with each other into an ecstatic climax. “Klonopin” is content to hum away in aural bliss, acknowledging the fact that it needs no flashy conclusion. For those who like their music a tad harsher, The Golden Sores deliver as well. The mix for some of the songs’ crescendos can get very loud, a suitable dynamic for the album’s more triumphant heralds. There’s a lot to like and pick out here over repeated listens, mainly because some of the more subtle layers can hide their natural elegance on first listens.s

A Peaceable Kingdom delivers its title with a grace and finesse that emphasizes the lamb that graces the album cover. Even the simple picture exudes the album’s main feature – a shimmering mass of pleasant drone that leads one to believe there’s a bright future ahead of the two artists, one that hopefully includes more of their brand of fresh, epiphanic sound to stand out in the dark wash of bleak drone.

Buy it here, please

07
Jun
09

Matt Henshaw’s Unfurled, finally!

unfurled

Matt Henshaw brings the noise with his release Unfurled, a 75-minute long sprawl of oscillating industrial drones and metallic clanks and blips that remind one of underwater submarine life on a sub doomed to a life of hell. In fact, this is one of Henshaw’s darker, harsher forays, one that literally furls and unfurls into minimalist, extended low notes and high pitched squawls.

It’s the softer minimalist aspect of the track that draws this listener in, what with the ever-underlying hum and the quick clanks and patters that suck the listener into a dark lull. The subtle, rolling drip-drips coupled with the low notes are calming and pleasant to the ears, designed to put on in a trance. After a while, squealing feedback works its way over the drone, penetrating that trance in an homage to the track’s title, unfurling what was glacially built up. The feedback of the track is harsh and unsettling, and although it’s a nice jar from the quiet solitude of the minimalism, they sometimes proceed a little bit too long.

This listener enjoys, however, the subtleties that Henshaw plays with, an experimentation within lower and higher volumes. Though repetitive, the track mimics its title, slowly pulsing its way towards dark oblivion. It’s slightly creepy, too, and a good listen for late-night spooks. The industrial tones of the piece are more reminiscent of Henshaw’s 320 than his previous works, and a lot more inaccessible to those not familiar with harsher noise. But Henshaw’s ability to lull the listener and then snap them out of the gentle hands of the drone is captivating, even if the feedback does make for a very difficult 70 minutes.

This is not easy listening, nor is it a track meant to be taken in pieces. To get the full experience out of Henshaw’s album, one must take in the entire track, which is no easy task considering its length. If one can get past these hurdles, though, there’s a harrowing experience underneath that Henshaw has provided. The hum of the radiator will never sound the same again.

And again, Henshaw has dedicated a lot of time and energy to the presentation of his work, wrapping the album’s case with a nice tie to again emphasize the importance of unfurling.

Buy it here

28
May
09

Wm. Paul Young’s The Shack spiritual but not life-changing

The Shack

I’ve read a lot of blurbs and reviews about Wm. Paul Young’s The Shack – how it will make one religious or spiritual even if one isn’t a church-goer going into the novel, how it will give those who read it a new outlook on life – and I had dismissed them as fanatics trying to promote a book about religion just to get press coverage. But I decided to check it out anyway, because a good read is a good read no matter the subject matter or the hype that it gets.

After having a trek through the woods with The Shack’s main character, Mack, I’ve come to the conclusion that the book really is an overly hyped religious controversy. While it’s a good read, all of the praise about the novel’s ability to change opinions and viewpoints of religion are quite exaggerated and, I feel, are giving the book a more negative connotation than it deserves.

Young’s novel is very much a philosophical dialogue on religion and the current state of beliefs – it resembles some of Plato’s dialogues without taking on overly sophisticated speech or diction. In fact, The Shack reads like a common-man’s philosophy.

In the book, a man named Mack gets a letter from God, supposedly, to come to a shack out in the middle of the wilderness where his daughter had been taken a murdered a year or two before. Mack has still not come to grips with the emotional turmoil inside of him, and has been taken over by a Great Sadness, one which does not allow him to forgive or understand God’s actions. As Mack stays at the shack for a weekend, he is transported to a new world, one in which God, Jesus, and a deity named Sarayu are all helping Mack to understand his pain and to forgive those who have caused it, while also accepting God into his heart.

The first part of the novel is dedicated to meeting Mack and his haunting experience of his daughter’s kidnapping and subsequent death at the hands of a child killer. It’s a harrowing, visceral and taut sequence, rife with psychological drama from Mack which makes this part of the novel intense, if not exactly original.

But then we get to the sequences with God, Jesus, and Sarayu. The characters are likable enough, as they should be – they are, after all, the almighty God broken into three pieces to guide Mack. As Mack struggles through conversations with God about his ways and Mack’s own beliefs, there’s a lot of explanations about religious teachings that are quite interesting. One that stuck out was the fact that God doesn’t exactly like organized religion. This is where a lot of the religious criticism comes into play, as Young characterizes God as someone who doesn’t want to punish the sinners and he also doesn’t care if you pray to him. He plays a waiting game of letting the people of the world choose whether they want to let God into their hearts, which is more of what I think of when I imagine God.

The dialogues between God and Mack go on forever though, and there’s a lull in the middle of the book where there’s a lot of talking but not a lot of doing going on. It evens out towards the end, in a very transcendental moment where Mack finds his daughters body, but I felt that the middle portion of the novel was a tad flat.

And although the book is supposed to have an uplifting message (which it succeeds at), some parts feel a little too goody-goody for my tastes. Mack seems to like every person he comes in contact with, which is pretty unbelievable. All of the characters – well, minus the serial killer, of course – are instantly likable but they all feel really similar to each other.

But what about the spiritual nature of the book? It’s fascinating, it’s entertaining, but one has to remember that it’s still a fictional story about God, not a true biography of Him. It changed my stereotypical views of God and got me thinking in new directions about what Heaven and Hell and sin and sainthood mean in our man-made realities, but it didn’t change my spiritual beliefs or make me convert from my agnostic beliefs. I think that if one’s spiritual beliefs were swayed so easily by a fictional book, that person did not have very strong beliefs or opinions at all. The book is a great read, but it shouldn’t be so easily persuasive.

Don’t get my qualms about the book’s ability to bring about an epiphany wrong, though; it’s an emotional ride that’s at some points sad and at others absolutely mouth-crackingly happy, and its views of a higher being are insightful, well thought-out, and philosophical. But it’s not going to make the devoted worshipers happy because of its stand against religion, and it won’t make non-believers convert. But at least it’s not too preachy, and the religious aspect is not a turn-off like I expected it to be. No religious experience required here.

17
Feb
09

Merzbow’s Somei

Somei

So far, I’m impressed by what it’s bringing to the table. Part drum solo fest, part destruction, it has equal parts of both that make it interesting in two layers.

Interesting to note how Masami Akita leaves some of his static-y ambience out of the songs, focusing on more of the drums and less on the noise at some points. I think that’s what’s different here than in his recent releases; he’s trying different things here, rather than just layers upon layers of surging, squealing undertones.

In other news, I am working on reviewing Matt Henshaw’s album Unfurled. I meant to listen to it at home on my nice stereo this weekend, where it should be properly listened to, but I didn’t get a chance. I’m still holding out for that opportunity.

25
Jan
09

Send material?

As I am at a lull right now when it comes to material for this blog, I am accepting any submissions that you would like reviewed. It can be music, comics, video games, movies (although that will probably be re-routed and posted on my other blog, The Moon is a Dead World), or even if you want me to host your band’s music.

Feel free to leave a comment and I’ll get in touch as to where you can send it.

Also, if anyone needs a guy to do some writing for your blog/website, preferably reviews, I’m in. Again, just leave a comment. I know this post will probably be ignored, but it’s worth a shot.

30
Dec
08

New Animal Collective album, Merriweather Post Pavilion, leaks, indie kids everywhere spew gross exaggerations

merriweather post pavilion

It has been, what, five days now? Five days since Merriweather Post Pavilion, Animal Collective’s new album and their follow up to 2007’s full-length, Strawberry Jam (not counting the Water Curses EP), leaked to the Interwebz, leaving AC fans everywhere (and I don’t mean Anal Cunt) gasping for breath and thanking God, Jesus, or Santa for granting their prayers.

Pitchfork had been one of the first publications to comment on the Collective’s effort, having posted a first listen way back in October with mostly favorable views. Spin gave the album a solid four star rating, and various other sources began listing this new album as a keeper and a great start to 2009. Hey, wait… what the fuck? It’s still 2008.

That’s right. We’re still stuck in this year. And the album is not even released until January 20. So why all the hype?

Fans the world over are nutting all over this release, saying it’s the best album of 2009, when right now it may be the only album. I’m not dissing the Collective by any means; in fact, Strawberry Jam remains in rotation on my iPod all the time. What I am saying is that we all just need to settle down nah. Animal Collective have put out a nice array of danceable gems, more palatable than the noisier bits on Strawberry Jam and more engaging than Feels. Sure, they’ve progressed as a whole. Avey Tare has taken a cue from his vocal bits on Strawberry Jam and pushed more of a low and high juxtaposition on the new album; songs like “Lion in a Coma” even focus on some jew’s harp sounds to help create a beat. Most songs start out with some sort of ambience before taking a gigantic bite, as evidenced by the first song “In the Flowers;” and there’s definitely an abundance of dance synth-y pop songs that have replaced the more reclusive tracks found on the rest of AC’s discography.

But really, how much of the album differs from the rest of Animal Collective’s output? In fact, what are Animal Collective doing differently now, paired with the likes of MGMT, Black Kids, and Black Dice putting out electro-pop dance hits? I guess what I’m trying to say is that I’m not seeing the draw here. I just don’t understand how Merriweather can be lauded as standout of 2009, with there having been no other releases. I don’t see the pull on the album; sure, the songs are catchy, but they’re not jangling around in my head. I can barely remember them after I’ve listened to them once. And the 55 minute runtime kills me – I love long songs, don’t get me wrong, but Animal Collective’s beats just seem to linger, repeating over and over again in a dull roar that I tune out of.

In my mind, right now this release is just average fare from Animal Collective, and not really a step in a direction that I wanted to see from the group. Of course there’s the random liked tracks: “Bluish,” “Lion in a Coma,” and “My Girls” stand out at the moment, but 3 out of 11 songs, averaging only a meager 15 minutes, does not a good album make in my eyes. I’m an album guy; I love listening to whole albums, and that’s not cutting it. But I’m going to give Merriweather more chances, because I want to like it, if only to fit in with that elite indie crowd who proclaims the album’s triumph over all others. And I like the Collective’s work, although I rarely listen to this kind of music. Maybe I’m not feeling this album because no matter how bad I want it, I just don’t have a taste for indie like I do for metal. Or maybe it’s because we haven’t reached 2009 yet and I’m trying to rush the music’s sound. Or maybe – just maybe, the holiday cheer and anticipation has gotten to everyone’s heads, and they’ll soon find themselves shying away from Merriweather and rethinking their Myspace and Last.fm posts to AC saying, “Dudes youve released the BEST ALBUM EVARRRR or at least for ‘09!” Maybe.

Consider this album REVIEWED. Commence hate.

14
Dec
08

The roar of George Plimpton’s Paper Lion

Paper Lion cover

I had to write an extended book review for my Sports Lit class on Paper Lion, George Plimpton’s account of his experiences on the Detroit Lions football team during the preseason of 1963. This is not a normal book review, but an extended one with summary, author bio, critical reception, etc. It is much longer than most reviews, but since I was planning on reviewing Paper Lion here anyway, I decided to post this. Enjoy.

Football is a sport that many know and love, but few of its followers have actually experienced the drives and dedication it takes to play the game. Instead, most fans are happy with sitting back and watching the game with food and a beverage, rather than enduring the grueling conditions, intricate plays, and rigid scheduling that football players must work into their lives. It takes a certain mindset to want to play a game in which injuries are bound to occur and where no play is ever considered “mastered,” or where anything can go wrong simply because of timing. In this regard, it might seem as though football players are a masochistic bunch, almost enjoying the pain and suffering that they are forced to undergo for the game.

However, one ordinary sports reporter decided to put aside fears of physical contact and embarrassment to join a football team. This man was George Plimpton, a writer for Sports Illustrated, Esquire, and author of a variety of sports-related books. Plimpton was determined to join a football team for one season and understand the game from a player’s perspective, rather than an audience member. Plimpton’s goal was to uncover the truth about a football team and its players – not just what the game of football was and how to play it, but also who the players that make up the game really were and why they were so interested in the game. After his encounters in football, he wrote the novel Paper Lion, one that is widely considered an important asset to sports literature.

George Plimpton was born March 18, 1927 in New York City to Francis Plimpton and Pauline Ames. He attended Harvard University until 1945, where, at 18, he joined the Army to fight in World War II. After his time in the Army, he went back to Harvard to finish his degree, and then attended both Cambridge University and King’s College for two more degrees. He became editor of The Paris Review in 1953, which helped him progress to various other magazines such as Horizons and Sports Illustrated.

At Sports Illustrated, Plimpton began writing pieces that required him to join in on various sports. Plimpton was interested in putting himself in different situations; the research and writing that Paper Lion consists of were not the only times that Plimpton put himself in the shoes of a player. Before his stint as a football player, Plimpton took up the pitcher’s position in a baseball event where he pitched to the National League, which became the book Out of My League. He also went on to write more participatory sports books, a golfing book called The Bogey Man, Open Net (a hockey book), and Shadow Box, which focused on boxing.

While Plimpton’s first foray into participation in professional sports focused more on enduring the sport as a whole, Paper Lion is more a look at the culture of football in general. In the book, Plimpton is invited to join the Detroit Lions football team in its 1963 season. To get the overall feel for the game, Plimpton wants to learn the spot of quarterback, since much of the game centers around this position. Although he only stays on with the team through its preseason training, Paper Lion does provide a hilarious account of Plimpton’s struggle at quarterback in an exhibition game.

Plimpton has much trouble being accepted at any football league, and writes that many teams are wary of accepting a journalist who might divulge their secrets to the public. However, Plimpton writes in his foreword to the 2003 edition of the book that he did not “peek into closets or put his feet up onto the nearest sofa.” Instead, Plimpton reports what he feels are both an important aspect of the game and the real story of who the players are.

Throughout the course of preseason training, Plimpton is forced to learn football maneuver as well as how to fit in with the team and take notes relevant to his book. Plimpton writes of the hardship that this meant; rookies are treated as “little brothers” to the veteran team members, who force Plimpton and others to sing their college anthems, play pranks on them, and force them to undergo other normal rites of passage. Practices are grueling and embarrassing, especially for a man who has had little to no experience playing regulation football. Even the players tend to view him as a joke, laughing at his size and ability.

Plimpton tries to keep his personal motive a secret, although most of the players pick up on the fact that he is not a real football player. Over time, Plimpton makes friends with some of the team members on the squad, becoming involved with both their personal and football lives.

One of the first members that Plimpton writes about is the head coach of the Lions, George Wilson. Plimpton describes him as a “wide-shouldered” and “deeply-tanned” man who is more than just his bulky appearance. Plimpton has a tendency to get right to the heart of a man with his intelligent and detailed descriptions of personality, and George Wilson is outlined as being a very gentle, free-spirited man with his players. At one point, Plimpton writes of how there are two different ways of coaching: either to be very strict as to what the players can and cannot do, or to be lenient with them and to allow them to do what they want, but with guidelines. Wilson is the latter of these two, and his players respect and respond well to it. Even Plimpton, with his short time on the team, comes to regard Wilson with some sort of respect. When Wilson is forced to make team cuts the day after a scrimmage, he does so while during a team meeting, having a teammate act as a harbinger of sorts who motions them out of the room, the rookies then dispatched by Wilson. Plimpton at first comments that Wilson’s method seems a bit cruel, and then recants, wondering if there can ever be an easy way to dash a man’s dream. Wilson is every bit a player’s coach, and even treats Plimpton as such during his time on the team. Without Wilson, Paper Lion might never have been written.

But most of Plimpton’s time on the team is not spent with Wilson; instead, he is lodged with the players, both rookie and veteran. One of the things that Plimpton writes about most is his association with the players, both about football and team stories. Part of being on a team like the Lions is the fact that each player has his own perspectives on the game of football and stories that have been picked up from experiences on the team. In his attempts to gain perspective on how to play football, he talks to the players about their strategies.

Plimpton meets Night Train Lane, a defensive back veteran on the Lions team, as a way to get a feel for what he might face in a scrimmage situation that he has to play. First, Plimpton asks about Lane’s life and how he got into football, just as curious about the player as he is about the game. Lane gives tips on styles and where to look to understand the player. What is interesting about Plimpton’s notes here is that he did not just focus on his position at quarterback, but tried to uncover details about all of the different positions on the field.

Other players also help Plimpton out in his quest at understanding the game. Harley Sewell, a guard, tried to cheer Plimpton up after he had a devastating time as quarterback in a big scrimmage game. Sewell is portrayed as a man who will not take no for an answer, almost as if his job is to make Plimpton feel better. He brings up the fact that many people have bad games, as if he is a father reassuring his son. Plimpton bonds with the rookies as well, especially a young player named Lucien Reeberg, who actually asks Plimpton what he thinks of his ball playing. After cuts have been made, Plimpton is even asked to host and create a rookie show, where the rookies get to release their stresses and have fun for a night of parodying and partying.

Throughout the course of the book, Plimpton makes the reader feel as if the Lions team is a welcoming group of men all attracted to the same activity. Each player has his own biases and likes and dislikes, but when they live together as a team, they drop their previous feelings to accomplish the one goal of football that they all agree on: winning. This emphasizes the important role that communication plays down on the field itself. Joe Shmidt and Wayne Walker, both linebackers, talk of the importance of knowing the teammate and how they will respond in game situations. “The big thing is knowing the guy’s with you,” Walker says, “so that if he does something separate you can compensate, and cover for him.” Paper Lion’s message is clear here – one player does not make a team. In essence, it is every player that makes or breaks the team, which is made even more apparent during Plimpton’s failure at the scrimmage; the team realizes that even if Plimpton is a very small part of the team, it is still important that morale stays high.

Plimpton progresses through the season steadily with few problems, making time for both practice and work. However, as time gets closer and closer to the scrimmage where Plimpton has to actually participate in team play, he talks of the stresses of the game. It is not just the rookies who get stressed. Alex Karras, as player who is suspended the season that Plimpton stays with the team, would always get physically sick before a game. There is a story told about a rookie quarterback who forgot what he was doing and punted a ball on a first down while on the field. Plimpton writes that the stresses of the game are normal, probably because of how much knowledge and thought must go into every football play made.

As Plimpton makes his way to the end of the preseason, he finds that football is not his forte. In the scrimmage, he calls five plays, hilariously being knocked down by his own teammate, falling on his own accord, almost relinquishing a fumble, overthrowing a pass, and having his play already read before he even attempts it. Plimpton also tries to get into an exhibition game against the Cleveland Browns, but to no avail, as the coach will not allow it. Discouraged by his lack of football skills, Plimpton leaves the Detroit team early, his accomplishments minimal but his knowledge better from his experiences.

Throughout Plimpton’s book, he gives his opinions on the state of football. But what is most interesting about Plimpton’s experiences is how he shows the team’s bondage into one cohesive whole. Written football games can fail because the author lacks the skills to showcase both the finesse and the tension of the game. Plimpton, however, manages to include both of these because he puts himself in the situations, rather than watching from the sidelines. Paper Lion could have just as easily been another run-of-the-mill journalistic piece on a specific football team, covering the wins, losses, and statistics of the team. In this case, though, Plimpton’s sociological experiment provides the reader with insight into both human emotion and the sport of football, which is of course more interesting to both sports fans and non-sports fans alike. There is something about Plimpton’s ability to recall vivid details that draws the reader to his descriptions; his ability to recount stories with the original humor and emotion makes the reader feel as if they are participating right alongside these old football players, even if the events did happen forty years ago.

The book also shows the plight that football players go through that the general public might not understand unless actually subjected to the game. Plimpton partly undergoes this experiment to see what a football player actually has to go through to play the game, and in fact hears many stories that give him the sense that the job the players work at is not all money and fame. At one point, Plimpton writes that during the exhibition game against the Browns, players deposited their valuables with a coach, and he received “a substantial pile of teeth.” Humility is one of the big emotions that Plimpton finds is an important concept in football. The game must always have some sort of humiliation – either you humiliate your opponent or he humiliates you. The winner is the one who wants to humiliate the other player more. Bruce Maher, a defensive halfback, tells Plimpton that “it’s probably [the other player’s] mistake that’s made you look good.” There is always some sort of embarrassment on the field, and it is part of what makes up the game of football.

What Plimpton seems to take home most from his time at Detroit is not the fun or the friendships that he has made, or the fact that he is now somewhat addicted to the Lions, but the extreme conditions that the players face, the prides and embarrassments, and the pain that the football players hate and love at the same time. Plimpton puts it better than any other words can say in his epilogue, referring to inhuman screams that he heard coming from the players on the football field: “I remembered from my last day with the team when I walked up from the practice field – the long bleat from the players being whistled together by the coaches, almost one of sorrow.” It is that drive to play a game that is not exactly pure fun that Plimpton goes into the book not understanding, and when he ends his time with the team, it is still elusive to him. But that does not make his experiences moot – instead, he has told the stories of the players, and given them a voice. He may have even succeeded in giving others a drive to play the game.

The worth of Paper Lion is immeasurable. Plimpton provides his audience with rich detail that simply could not have been written about by any sports magazine. His infiltration of football is both courageous and telling of his spirit. Plimpton may make friends in the book, but it feels like they are the audience’s friends as well, and when it is told that Lucien Reeberg soon dies after the events in the book, one feels the loss as if he knew Reeberg himself. It is Plimpton’s writing, and his ability to tell a story, that sucks the reader in. But another reason why Paper Lion has so much worth is the fact that the reader can draw from the book what they want to. There are a lot of football criticisms thrown around throughout the course of the book, and sports fans and players alike can gain tips and insight into the game, just as Plimpton does. The human condition, though, is the more important factor in the book, one that Plimpton takes away from the experience more than the football, and Plimpton’s words help paint a picture of a football player’s psyche. From high emotions to the limits of a human being, Paper Lion speaks to our culture itself. The acts of the football players – the pranks, the humor, the (at times) rowdy behavior – are all things that the public has stereotyped, yet Plimpton shows that the players do it for a different reason. They are not the stupid humans the public believes they are; they must be smart and physically sound to play their game. Their emotions get the best of them at times like any other individual, and in most regards, they are still just working men. Plimpton brings out the football player’s bravery and individuality, though, which makes his book stand out from the rest as one of the more telling aspects of the sport.

Paper Lion was received quite well by the critics. W.C. Heinz, a sportswriter, is quoted as saying it is “the best book of football I’ve ever read.” Book Week reviewed it with a similar quote. Eliot Fremont Smith from The New York Times said that it is “a tale to gladden the envious heart of any ‘average weekend athlete.’” The book was eventually made into a film in 1968, which was received with the same amount of praise. It starred Alan Alda as Plimpton, and the Lions team played themselves.

Plimpton’s book is one that must be recommended. There is so much depth to the book that it cannot be expressed in just one review, or acknowledged in just one read-through of the book. Paper Lion is unusually detailed, and speaks to an individual rather than the masses. There is something that will get to the heart of every reader, no matter how different they are. Plimpton is able to meld football into a critique of society, and that is where his book really succeeds – instead of an outsider’s view of the game, the audience is brought right down on the field, deleting that gap between fan and player.

04
Dec
08

The slums (and boxing) – Fat City by Leonard Gardner

Fat city cover

No, this book is not about a city of fat people. And though it does have a bit to do with boxing, it is moreso focused on the lives of the boxers and the city that they live in. Leonard Gardner takes the sport of boxing and melds it with character dilemma to deliver an engaging, but not necessarily entertaining, experience.

Fat City tells the story of a man named Billy Tully, an ex-boxer who hit his peak earlier in his career and is now careening downhill fast. He’s a drunkard, confused about women, and barely scrapes by, being intoxicated most of the time anyway. He lives in Stockton, and when he visits the local YMCA to try to get back in shape, he meets a young man named Ernie Munger, a guy working out but not really attempting to be anything more than a now-and-then boxer. Tully convinces Munger to go to a gym that he had once trained at, the Lido Gym where a man named Ruben Luna works, and finally Munger takes him up on his offer. From here on out, Fat City deals with loss in boxing, loss of the self, and the inability to overcome the dark pasts that are mingled with the city’s slummy life.

First off, Gardner does a great job of painting a vivid picture of a town that no one would ever want to live in. Financial depressions abound here; most people are getting up in the early morning darkness to get on buses, picking onions or shaking nuts out of trees, for a meager pay. Alcoholism reigns supreme; our protagonist Billy Tully is one of them, and he hangs out with some less than commendable fellows, like his girlfriend Oma.

Gardner’s ability to write simple, meaningless conversations that actually have some deeper significance is an envious feeling to writers. He manages to make dialogue feel extremely real, as if what the characters are saying is just endless chatter – when in reality, the dialogue is what pushes the plot of the story ahead.

As for an engaging plot, there really isn’t one. Gardner doesn’t stray too long on any one subject, instead jumping back and forth from different characters’ viewpoints to give the reader a sense that all of the characters they are reading about are turning endlessly in circles, lost amongst themselves, trying to find something that can carry them to their dreams but instead falling for the same old problems that got them stuck in their ruts. In a way, Fat City seems pretty hopeless, and towards the end, when a solid conclusion is not presented to us, it feels as though we have begun to fall into this pattern as well.

But while Fat City provides a very appealing look at humanity’s desperation, the bulk of the story was really not that entertaining. Granted, there are some very interesting descriptions and some activities that one may never really have heard of (cutting the stalks off of onions, for instance). For the most part though, the story lingered too much, not really getting anywhere and losing my interest. I do have to say that the last few pages are some really powerful stuff, though.

Gardner’s story is an interesting perspective, but not one that really held my interest for too long. It was hard to get into the story itself, and just when I felt like I had, the writing switched perspectives and I was then thrown back out of it. Fat City is a concise 200 pages, but it is jampacked with detail; yet all of that goes to the wayside if the book fails to suck the reader into its world, and that’s exactly where Fat City got the TKO from me.

25
Nov
08

Southern comfort and baseball – The Dixie Association by Donald Hays

The Dixie Association cover

The Dixie Association is Donald Hays’ fictional account of a released prisoner who plays baseball for a minor league team in the South called the Arkansas Reds. This man is Hog Durham, who goes by no other name. After getting out of jail, the coach of the Reds, Lefty (who is known as the town communist to the religious fanatics), picks up Hog because of his batting and fielding skills. The Reds need players, and Lefty has a tendency to recruit less-than-perfect baseballers. Hog readily joins, as his friend Julius Common Deer plays for the same team, and soon finds himself immersed in the world of hits and runs, RBIs and double plays. Along the way, however, there comes to be a little trouble with Hog’s parole officer, where a man named Ratoplan comes along and blackmails Hog to send one of his fellow ballplayers back to Miami. When Hog refuses, Ratoplan digs through his past to try and stick Hog with a robbery that he had never been arrested for. All this, and Hog still has to try and be the hero in a game where the Reds are pitted against the Selma Americans for the championship.

Hays gets to the bottom of his characters. The Southern talk is great and humorous, but not to the point where it could be annoying. Most of the characters have some depth to them, whether it be Hog’s own views on marriage and love or another team member’s struggle with human interaction. The one thing that does hinder the novel a little is that there are many characters to remember, causing the reader to have to go back and look at who each person was and their relevance to the novel. A few times, it was hard to distinguish the difference between Ratoplan and a lawyer with a similar name.

The plot wavers a bit between tense conflict and more comedic baseball action, which felt just about right. Sometimes the conflict of Hog’s re-conviction disappears and reappears, though, and it makes one think whether or not it was actually so important to the novel at hand. It is hard to tell which plot line should be focused on more – Hog’s new love interest and his ability to continue playing baseball, or the recurring blackmail and worry of being sent back to jail. It was only here that felt like there was a confliction of where the plot was headed, which was not necessarily a bad thing, but one which seemed like it could be ironed out a little better.

However, when Hays writes about baseball, he delivers fast pitch after fast pitch. He does not stop and give all of the statistical analyses of the games, nor a play-by-play approach. Only during the crucial innings does he resort to this, giving the reader more of a skim through of the game than unneeded slow-motion replays.

Hays’ voice is also very strong. From the first line of the book, there was some sort of pleasant connection of words that made it enjoyable to keep reading. Maybe it was Hays’ sense of humor; maybe it was also the fact that he did a great job of giving voice to Hog. Either way, Hays’ writing makes it hard to put The Dixie Association down.

Yet the novel is rather long for what it has to say. Some aspects of the book were too drawn out, like Hog’s extended bout with the police and the problems he faces with Ratoplan. It makes sense that this would be a big dilemma, but it is just too long and frankly, loses steam in the last fourth of the book.

The Dixie Association does have some serious themes going on. Tackling organized religion is always a tough subject, and though Hays does argue against it to some extent, he has limited himself to a point where it does not seem like a diatribe. In fact, one could even say that Hays gives some pretty valid points about joining a religious sect. Some other themes it touches upon include changes in individuals and if they should be judged for their past sins, the plight of an aging baseball player, and a discussion on individuals’ need to get away from society’s evils to just enjoy a bit of living. Some get a little more focus than others, but even those that are just touched upon seem an important critique.

The voice of the South has been spoken by Hays through Hog Durham, and if one is looking for a good Southern culture novel or a good baseball book, turn to The Dixie Association. It has an ample helping of both, and even after 20 years, the book still speaks to the masses.




And I'm not the biggest scumbag you'll ever meet
and yeah man all my bridges are hangin from a string:
thin like a fishing line, like the type of string
that keeps this whole damn city together.

-Gospel, As Far As You Can Throw Me

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