1977, Workman Publishing edition from later that year
Don Novello
The Lazlo Letters: The Amazing Real-Life Actual Correspondence of Lazlo Toth, American
Original price $2.95, purchase price $1.95
Worn paperback
B-
Novello, best known as SNL's Father Guido Sarducci, assumed the identity of Mr. Toth, an earnest right-wing middle-aged man who loved writing to corporations, politicians, and a few celebrities, always eager to share his sometimes misspelled and rambling thoughts. What's amazing is that Novello got sincere responses much of the time, even into the two sequels (which I also own). The owner of the used bookstore I bought this at about 25 years ago wrote "Funny!" under the price. It's more smiley funny than laughy funny, and I enjoy the political exchanges (mostly about Watergate) less than the ones that ask, for instance, why McDonald's will serve jelly with an Egg McMuffin but not with a Big Mac, or why Mr. Bubble says "KEEP DRY" on the label.
It's a quick read of course, so I'd recommend it if you come across it. Just don't expect something to match the 5-star raves on Amazon.
Friday, October 19, 2012
Wednesday, October 17, 2012
Big Bad Wolves: Masculinity in the American Film
1977, first edition, from Pantheon Books
Joan Mellen
Big Bad Wolves: Masculinity in the American Film
Original price $12.95, purchase price $6.95
Good condition hardcover with worn dustjacket
C+
While I'm sympathetic to Mellen's premise, that movies need to stop glorifying violence as the ultimate expression of masculinity, unfortunately the book is deeply flawed. The largest problem is that Mellen doesn't have a strong enough sense of film history, or even of then-recent film. Some of these are minor errors any editor (even nine-year-old me) could've easily caught, like Raquel "Welsh" and the original Fun with Dick and Jane being listed as '76 rather than '77. But when she insists on how Pillow Talk is both an early '60s movie and a carryover from the '50s, having come out in 1962, it really does matter that it actually came out in 1959. (For one thing, it's the first Rock & Doris movie, and for another, that three-year difference already meant much cultural change.) And if she can't get that the Hays Code was scarcely enforced until 1934, then much of what she covers in the chapter between the '20s and the '30s (itself called "Crossing into Hard Times," but confusingly covering '29 to '39) is invalidated.
Also, she seems impatient to get to the 1970s, and keeps bringing the movies of that decade (Dirty Harry especially) into discussions of earlier decades, so that Rocky is mentioned in the Introduction and for the '40s, and then forgotten by the time she actually gets to the '70s. Additionally, I think she lets some male characters off the hook, just because they can express their emotions, like Valentino as a rapist. Not to mention, why is so much space devoted to James Bond in what is supposed to be a book about American film?
With a better editor, and a clearer focus, this could've been a better book than the Rosen and Haskell books on women in film. As it is, it does stand as a useful corrective to the idea that men in '70s media were all sensitive Woody Allen/Alan Alda/Phil Donahue types. She does discuss Woody briefly, pointing out that while he wasn't the traditional screen male, he worshiped men like Bogie. And yet, she says that Bogart was never just violent but had more complexity. So even here, her point isn't exactly clear.
Joan Mellen
Big Bad Wolves: Masculinity in the American Film
Original price $12.95, purchase price $6.95
Good condition hardcover with worn dustjacket
C+
While I'm sympathetic to Mellen's premise, that movies need to stop glorifying violence as the ultimate expression of masculinity, unfortunately the book is deeply flawed. The largest problem is that Mellen doesn't have a strong enough sense of film history, or even of then-recent film. Some of these are minor errors any editor (even nine-year-old me) could've easily caught, like Raquel "Welsh" and the original Fun with Dick and Jane being listed as '76 rather than '77. But when she insists on how Pillow Talk is both an early '60s movie and a carryover from the '50s, having come out in 1962, it really does matter that it actually came out in 1959. (For one thing, it's the first Rock & Doris movie, and for another, that three-year difference already meant much cultural change.) And if she can't get that the Hays Code was scarcely enforced until 1934, then much of what she covers in the chapter between the '20s and the '30s (itself called "Crossing into Hard Times," but confusingly covering '29 to '39) is invalidated.
Also, she seems impatient to get to the 1970s, and keeps bringing the movies of that decade (Dirty Harry especially) into discussions of earlier decades, so that Rocky is mentioned in the Introduction and for the '40s, and then forgotten by the time she actually gets to the '70s. Additionally, I think she lets some male characters off the hook, just because they can express their emotions, like Valentino as a rapist. Not to mention, why is so much space devoted to James Bond in what is supposed to be a book about American film?
With a better editor, and a clearer focus, this could've been a better book than the Rosen and Haskell books on women in film. As it is, it does stand as a useful corrective to the idea that men in '70s media were all sensitive Woody Allen/Alan Alda/Phil Donahue types. She does discuss Woody briefly, pointing out that while he wasn't the traditional screen male, he worshiped men like Bogie. And yet, she says that Bogart was never just violent but had more complexity. So even here, her point isn't exactly clear.
Tuesday, October 16, 2012
A Summer to Die
1977, 1988 Bantam edition
Lois Lowry
Illustrated by Jenni Oliver
A Summer to Die
Original price $2.95, purchase price unknown
Very worn paperback
B-
Lowry's first book for preteens feels a bit rushed, including as it does not only the death of the protagonist's older sister, but the birth of a first child to a casually married couple, not to mention lessons in photography, poetry, and wildflowers, all within 120 pages. In particular I would've liked to have seen the relationship of the sisters, Meg and Molly, developed more.
It's a very 1970s book, with Molly and Meg not having worn dresses in a couple years, and the aforementioned couple being sort of hippies, who believe in natural childbirth. (The first time that such a birth has appeared in any of the fiction I own, since poor Mira and friends in The Women's Room had to deal with the same awful hospital births as in The Group and other feminist fiction for adults.) I remember checking this story out from the library about five years after it was published, and relating a bit to Meg because she wears glasses, has stringy hair, and generally feels plain compared to her sister. (Not that I had a sister, let alone one who died at 16.)
I ran across the book a couple decades later and remembered how unusual the death of a teenager had seemed in the books I read during my own teens. The book is aimed at ages 10 and up, but it won the California Young Reader Medal in the high school category, so it's one of those books that's on the borderline between juvenile and YA. I'd say it's for preteens who are ready to face heavy topics, although, as I said, I wish it went into them more. Still, not a bad debut for the future Newbery-winner. (We'll get to Number the Stars in 1989.)
The chapter headings by Oliver are mostly of objects, suggesting the every-dayness of life even during tragedy.
Lois Lowry
Illustrated by Jenni Oliver
A Summer to Die
Original price $2.95, purchase price unknown
Very worn paperback
B-
Lowry's first book for preteens feels a bit rushed, including as it does not only the death of the protagonist's older sister, but the birth of a first child to a casually married couple, not to mention lessons in photography, poetry, and wildflowers, all within 120 pages. In particular I would've liked to have seen the relationship of the sisters, Meg and Molly, developed more.
It's a very 1970s book, with Molly and Meg not having worn dresses in a couple years, and the aforementioned couple being sort of hippies, who believe in natural childbirth. (The first time that such a birth has appeared in any of the fiction I own, since poor Mira and friends in The Women's Room had to deal with the same awful hospital births as in The Group and other feminist fiction for adults.) I remember checking this story out from the library about five years after it was published, and relating a bit to Meg because she wears glasses, has stringy hair, and generally feels plain compared to her sister. (Not that I had a sister, let alone one who died at 16.)
I ran across the book a couple decades later and remembered how unusual the death of a teenager had seemed in the books I read during my own teens. The book is aimed at ages 10 and up, but it won the California Young Reader Medal in the high school category, so it's one of those books that's on the borderline between juvenile and YA. I'd say it's for preteens who are ready to face heavy topics, although, as I said, I wish it went into them more. Still, not a bad debut for the future Newbery-winner. (We'll get to Number the Stars in 1989.)
The chapter headings by Oliver are mostly of objects, suggesting the every-dayness of life even during tragedy.
Majesty: Elizabeth II and the House of Windsor
1977, Avon edition from later that year
Robert Lacey
Majesty: Elizabeth II and the House of Windsor
Original price $2.25, purchase price unknown
Very worn paperback
C+
"Elizabeth II is made to be an inspiring old Queen," begins the last chapter of this biography that was released during her Silver Jubilee, although I think Lacey would've been surprised to see her still alive and on the throne thirty-five years later. It's ironic to read of concern over an "Edward VII situation," in which the elderly queen kept going until her successor son was almost sixty. Elizabeth is now 86, the Prince of Wales almost 64, and she still shows no signs of abdicating. Further irony comes from the discussion of changing attitudes towards divorce, from future aunt Wallis Simpson's second in 1937, to the beginnings of Elizabeth's sister's in 1976 (finalized the year after this book came out). All of Elizabeth's children were single at the time of this biography, but three of the four would go on to get divorced.
Lacey's style isn't great, sometimes redundant, and sometimes too uncritical. Some of the material is interesting, although I actually prefer the first half, before Elizabeth succeeds her father. Not only is she more interesting in childhood, adolescence, and early adulthood, but I liked reading about her colorful relatives. One of Lacey's points is that the modern success of the British monarchy is that George V, his son George VI, and granddaughter Elizabeth were deliberately "average," albeit with common sense, while the flightier members-- Edward VIII and Princess Margaret in particular-- were threats to the stability of the British crown. But sometimes he goes overboard in celebrating the "ordinariness" of what is still an extraordinary family.
Overall, not the best book possible on the subject, but a good example of how some saw Her Majesty over a third-of-a-century ago. And it does have a good if too small-fonted family tree, and many photos.
Robert Lacey
Majesty: Elizabeth II and the House of Windsor
Original price $2.25, purchase price unknown
Very worn paperback
C+
"Elizabeth II is made to be an inspiring old Queen," begins the last chapter of this biography that was released during her Silver Jubilee, although I think Lacey would've been surprised to see her still alive and on the throne thirty-five years later. It's ironic to read of concern over an "Edward VII situation," in which the elderly queen kept going until her successor son was almost sixty. Elizabeth is now 86, the Prince of Wales almost 64, and she still shows no signs of abdicating. Further irony comes from the discussion of changing attitudes towards divorce, from future aunt Wallis Simpson's second in 1937, to the beginnings of Elizabeth's sister's in 1976 (finalized the year after this book came out). All of Elizabeth's children were single at the time of this biography, but three of the four would go on to get divorced.
Lacey's style isn't great, sometimes redundant, and sometimes too uncritical. Some of the material is interesting, although I actually prefer the first half, before Elizabeth succeeds her father. Not only is she more interesting in childhood, adolescence, and early adulthood, but I liked reading about her colorful relatives. One of Lacey's points is that the modern success of the British monarchy is that George V, his son George VI, and granddaughter Elizabeth were deliberately "average," albeit with common sense, while the flightier members-- Edward VIII and Princess Margaret in particular-- were threats to the stability of the British crown. But sometimes he goes overboard in celebrating the "ordinariness" of what is still an extraordinary family.
Overall, not the best book possible on the subject, but a good example of how some saw Her Majesty over a third-of-a-century ago. And it does have a good if too small-fonted family tree, and many photos.
Sunday, October 14, 2012
The Making of "The Wizard of Oz"
1977, 1989 Delta edition
Aljean Harmetz
The Making of "The Wizard of Oz": Movie Magic and Studio Power in the Prime of MGM-- And the Miracle of Production #1060
Bought new for $12.95
Worn paperback
B
Originally released the same year as The Oz Scrapbook, this covers some of the same territory of course, but with the focus on the 1939 movie. Harmetz was able to interview many of the survivors who'd worked on the film, many of whom would die in the dozen years before this edition came out. The content seems mostly unchanged, except she updates some of the statistics and acknowledges the passing of, among others, Jack Haley, Ray Bolger, and Margaret Hamilton. (I'm not sure if he was the last of the cast to go, but I remember a couple years ago when Meinhardt Raabe, the Munchkin Coroner, himself became "really most sincerely dead."
Not only does Harmetz look back to Hollywood's Golden Age, but reading the book now evokes that period in the early '70s when the studios literally threw away much of their history, and Debbie Reynolds was the only movie star to bid on the Ruby Slippers at the MGM auction. (One pair was offered for $2 million last December but didn't sell, so it's funny to read of Debbie not being able to match the winning bid of $15,000, an astounding amount in 1970.) Such issues as overtime and risk, comparing the 1930s to four decades later, come up, as when MGM didn't seem to care about the injuries to, among others, Hamilton and Buddy Ebsen (the original Tin Man, who had an allergic reaction to the make-up).
My favorite parts are about the Wicked Witch, with Hamilton's no-nonsense attitude a hoot. (She points out that legally the Witch should've inherited the slippers from her sister.) It's also fun to read the sometimes overwrought earlier drafts of the script. (For years, my ex-husband and I would deliberately misquote the line of the Tin Man's love interest, Lizzie Smithers, as "I should've stayed in bed with the Tin Man," but honestly, the real line, "Why did I ever leave the Tin Man? Oooh, I wish I was home in bed!" isn't much better.)
As with The Oz Scrapbook, the book is generally even-handed, although I think she's too harsh on the later Baum Oz books. To her credit though, she does see the turning of Oz into a dream as a weakening of the book's realistic fantasy. She offers different versions of some stories, letting readers decide which interviewee is most believable. There are many illustrations, including some in color. The book overlaps a little with John Lahr's biography of his father, but includes some information on Bert Lahr that that book from eight years before did not. Harmetz and the people she interviews, including songwriter Yip Harburg, seem less enthusiastic about The Wiz than Greene and Martin were.
Harburg's biography, Who Put the Rainbow in "The Wizard of Oz"?, will come along in 1993, and as the title suggests, The Wizard of Oz ended up being the greatest legacy in the careers of nearly everyone who helped make it.
Aljean Harmetz
The Making of "The Wizard of Oz": Movie Magic and Studio Power in the Prime of MGM-- And the Miracle of Production #1060
Bought new for $12.95
Worn paperback
B
Originally released the same year as The Oz Scrapbook, this covers some of the same territory of course, but with the focus on the 1939 movie. Harmetz was able to interview many of the survivors who'd worked on the film, many of whom would die in the dozen years before this edition came out. The content seems mostly unchanged, except she updates some of the statistics and acknowledges the passing of, among others, Jack Haley, Ray Bolger, and Margaret Hamilton. (I'm not sure if he was the last of the cast to go, but I remember a couple years ago when Meinhardt Raabe, the Munchkin Coroner, himself became "really most sincerely dead."
Not only does Harmetz look back to Hollywood's Golden Age, but reading the book now evokes that period in the early '70s when the studios literally threw away much of their history, and Debbie Reynolds was the only movie star to bid on the Ruby Slippers at the MGM auction. (One pair was offered for $2 million last December but didn't sell, so it's funny to read of Debbie not being able to match the winning bid of $15,000, an astounding amount in 1970.) Such issues as overtime and risk, comparing the 1930s to four decades later, come up, as when MGM didn't seem to care about the injuries to, among others, Hamilton and Buddy Ebsen (the original Tin Man, who had an allergic reaction to the make-up).
My favorite parts are about the Wicked Witch, with Hamilton's no-nonsense attitude a hoot. (She points out that legally the Witch should've inherited the slippers from her sister.) It's also fun to read the sometimes overwrought earlier drafts of the script. (For years, my ex-husband and I would deliberately misquote the line of the Tin Man's love interest, Lizzie Smithers, as "I should've stayed in bed with the Tin Man," but honestly, the real line, "Why did I ever leave the Tin Man? Oooh, I wish I was home in bed!" isn't much better.)
As with The Oz Scrapbook, the book is generally even-handed, although I think she's too harsh on the later Baum Oz books. To her credit though, she does see the turning of Oz into a dream as a weakening of the book's realistic fantasy. She offers different versions of some stories, letting readers decide which interviewee is most believable. There are many illustrations, including some in color. The book overlaps a little with John Lahr's biography of his father, but includes some information on Bert Lahr that that book from eight years before did not. Harmetz and the people she interviews, including songwriter Yip Harburg, seem less enthusiastic about The Wiz than Greene and Martin were.
Harburg's biography, Who Put the Rainbow in "The Wizard of Oz"?, will come along in 1993, and as the title suggests, The Wizard of Oz ended up being the greatest legacy in the careers of nearly everyone who helped make it.
The Oz Scrapbook
1977, first edition, from Random House
David L. Greene and Dick Martin
The Oz Scrapbook
Bought new for $10.00
Good condition hardcover with worn dustjacket
B
By the time I got this book, I was 9 and a huge Oz fan. I even regretted that Ruth Plumly Thompson had died the previous year and I'd never get to meet her, although at that point I only knew of her books from my 52-year-old father. I think I'd read all of Baum's fourteen Oz books, and maybe Mo and/or Zixi as well. The 1939 movie was also a favorite. So this book, especially all the illustrations, a few of them in color, was a delight.
Thirty-five years later, it holds up pretty well, although of course it is dated. The Wiz (which to this day I've only seen bits and pieces of) did not, as they predicted, influence future Oz movies. As I mentioned in my review of Tin Woodman, their opinions of the individual books affected my assessments as a child and even on the rereads for this blog. They're even-handed, harsh when they have to be, as with the abysmal animation in NBC's Return to Oz (1964). Martin illustrated Merry Go Round in Oz, and both men were friends with Thompson, so there are times when they seem a little too gentle about Baum's successors, or Neill's. They don't address the racism of Baum or Thompson, although there is a brief discussion of feminism in Land of Oz.
With so many photos and drawings, the text is overshadowed at times, even for an adult reader. Generally a solid book, still with useful information, as long as you don't mind the omission of later Oz spin-offs, such as Wicked, the novel and musical, or even the more (in)famous Return to Oz, the visually impressive but disturbing 1985 movie.
David L. Greene and Dick Martin
The Oz Scrapbook
Bought new for $10.00
Good condition hardcover with worn dustjacket
B
By the time I got this book, I was 9 and a huge Oz fan. I even regretted that Ruth Plumly Thompson had died the previous year and I'd never get to meet her, although at that point I only knew of her books from my 52-year-old father. I think I'd read all of Baum's fourteen Oz books, and maybe Mo and/or Zixi as well. The 1939 movie was also a favorite. So this book, especially all the illustrations, a few of them in color, was a delight.
Thirty-five years later, it holds up pretty well, although of course it is dated. The Wiz (which to this day I've only seen bits and pieces of) did not, as they predicted, influence future Oz movies. As I mentioned in my review of Tin Woodman, their opinions of the individual books affected my assessments as a child and even on the rereads for this blog. They're even-handed, harsh when they have to be, as with the abysmal animation in NBC's Return to Oz (1964). Martin illustrated Merry Go Round in Oz, and both men were friends with Thompson, so there are times when they seem a little too gentle about Baum's successors, or Neill's. They don't address the racism of Baum or Thompson, although there is a brief discussion of feminism in Land of Oz.
With so many photos and drawings, the text is overshadowed at times, even for an adult reader. Generally a solid book, still with useful information, as long as you don't mind the omission of later Oz spin-offs, such as Wicked, the novel and musical, or even the more (in)famous Return to Oz, the visually impressive but disturbing 1985 movie.
The Women's Room
1977, 1978 Jove/HBJ edition
Marilyn French
The Women's Room
Original price $2.50, purchase price unknown
Poor condition paperback
B-
This is an improvement over Piercy's Small Changes (1973), but as I noted in my review of Cass Timberlane (1945), the view of marriage is incredibly bleak. The relationships of the single people (straight or gay) aren't much better. Friendship is surprisingly put on a pedestal, although the friends don't always come through for each other. And while the book shows the necessity for feminism, the parts set in the late '60s/early '70s are sometimes just as depressing as those from the '50s.
The story is mainly that of Mira, who's also the narrator. This is awkwardly done. The narrator tries to see Mira from a distance, yet sometimes acts as if she's the same person and sometimes as if they're different. It isn't explained till the end, and it would've been better if she had just said she was Mira in the beginning, and spared us scenes where "we" includes Mira and the narrator and their friends. There are many other women's stories as subplots, and it was hard to keep track of them.
As with Small Changes, none of the men are particularly likable, although some have nice moments, and Ben is presented as sensitive and caring, although even he has a sexist side. French does a tricky job of balancing the relationship of sex and power, which works sometimes and not others.
I appreciate her going deeper and more personal than Piercy, or McCarthy and Lessing back in the '50s. Ironically though, I couldn't really relate to anyone, not even to the extent I identified with adolescent Martha Quest. I'd come across a line that would go something like, "Yes, I am a man-hater. But the men I know are awful. And all the women are fantastic," and I'd think, "That's not my experience. I've known horrible men, and horrible women. And fantastic of each. But mostly lots of folks in between." It's not that my life has been untouched by sexism, but my life has been both more complex (seeing a greater range of human behavior), and simpler. (No rape, pregnancy, beatings, starvation, suicide attempts, alcoholism. Just an amicable divorce and mild job- or relationship-related stress. OK, and my mom's death when I was three.)
I believe that this was the first of French's novels I read. I much preferred Her Mother's Daughter. I've got that and two or three other of her works coming up, but sadly I have to reserve the "French" label for works originally written in the French language.
Marilyn French
The Women's Room
Original price $2.50, purchase price unknown
Poor condition paperback
B-
This is an improvement over Piercy's Small Changes (1973), but as I noted in my review of Cass Timberlane (1945), the view of marriage is incredibly bleak. The relationships of the single people (straight or gay) aren't much better. Friendship is surprisingly put on a pedestal, although the friends don't always come through for each other. And while the book shows the necessity for feminism, the parts set in the late '60s/early '70s are sometimes just as depressing as those from the '50s.
The story is mainly that of Mira, who's also the narrator. This is awkwardly done. The narrator tries to see Mira from a distance, yet sometimes acts as if she's the same person and sometimes as if they're different. It isn't explained till the end, and it would've been better if she had just said she was Mira in the beginning, and spared us scenes where "we" includes Mira and the narrator and their friends. There are many other women's stories as subplots, and it was hard to keep track of them.
As with Small Changes, none of the men are particularly likable, although some have nice moments, and Ben is presented as sensitive and caring, although even he has a sexist side. French does a tricky job of balancing the relationship of sex and power, which works sometimes and not others.
I appreciate her going deeper and more personal than Piercy, or McCarthy and Lessing back in the '50s. Ironically though, I couldn't really relate to anyone, not even to the extent I identified with adolescent Martha Quest. I'd come across a line that would go something like, "Yes, I am a man-hater. But the men I know are awful. And all the women are fantastic," and I'd think, "That's not my experience. I've known horrible men, and horrible women. And fantastic of each. But mostly lots of folks in between." It's not that my life has been untouched by sexism, but my life has been both more complex (seeing a greater range of human behavior), and simpler. (No rape, pregnancy, beatings, starvation, suicide attempts, alcoholism. Just an amicable divorce and mild job- or relationship-related stress. OK, and my mom's death when I was three.)
I believe that this was the first of French's novels I read. I much preferred Her Mother's Daughter. I've got that and two or three other of her works coming up, but sadly I have to reserve the "French" label for works originally written in the French language.
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