1980, 1981 Ballantine edition
Marilyn French
The Bleeding Heart
Original price $3.95, purchase price $2.50
Worn paperback
B-
French's second novel is less wide-sweeping than The Women's Room, mostly concentrating on its main couple of Dolores and Victor. (She's still symbolically naming characters. Mira's husband was named Norm.) Yet it's not just the story of their year-long affair but also that of the Battle of the Sexes. As in Women's Room, the lives of the main characters and those of their friends are filled with tragedy, and it can be over the top at times. I think French does make some points about the impact of sexism on love, and vice versa, and there was more I could relate to here, but it's too overwrought at times. Also, there's a moment when the bleeding-heart heroine makes a gratuitously racist comment in passing, about her daughter's friend having "Asiatic blood," that makes no sense narratively or biologically.
I do appreciate French attempting to humanize Victor, although I didn't quite believe in him. There are moments when he's like an 18th-century male lead, out of Fanny Burney's fiction let's say, plausible enough for the author's purposes but not as realistic as, well, a Jane Austen hero. So far, Margaret Atwood's male characters, both the stodgy ones and the crazy ones, and Doris Lessing's domineering but insecure men, are the most believable in post-World-War-II women's fiction.
And, yes, yes, welcome to the 1980s! The years of my adolescence, and therefore the years of a lot of book-buying.
Monday, November 26, 2012
Friday, November 23, 2012
A Generation in Motion
1979, undated later edition, from Schirmer Books (Macmillan)
Original price $5.95, purchase price $4.95
It's ironic that I'm ending the 1970s with a "left-wing" book that pissed me off as much as the book that I started the decade with, Germaine Greer's The Female Eunuch. Regular readers of this blog (if there are such things) know that I don't usually write in my books, but here are some mental notes that I scrawled in thin air as I went along, reading this book for the first time in over 20 years, and with much less of an inferiority complex than last time:
Now, obviously on a subject like this, a personal perspective can be welcome. But Pichaske doesn't have Schaffner's gift for telling his own story and the story of a generation in an accessible way. It's not even clear if he's writing to anyone beyond himself and people like him, despite the dedication addressed to his children. If you're writing so young 'uns can understand, don't keep asking, "Do you remember?" And although he points out early on that not everyone was everywhere in the 1960s, he seems to frequently forget this.
The main problem though is I am an unashamed literal child of the 1970s. I adored the first decade I remember and did not find it in the slightest bland or quiet. If it was less violent and angry than the 1960s in some ways (although that's debatable), that to me is a selling point. I consider the machismo and self-righteousness of the '60s to be two of that decade's most unpleasant aspects, and not in the slightest ways to bring about a better society. Unlike Pichaske, I see them as an extension of, not refutation of, the 1940s and '50s.
I enjoy much of the 1960s, particularly pop culture, from dope songs (although I've never been stoned) to, yes, Annette Funicello, the latter blasphemy in Pichaske's eyes. I love the '70s in all their tacky, shallow yet deep, feminist, gay-friendlier, and idealistically cynical glory. I'm grateful to the '60s for being the Point B to the A of the '50s and the C of the '70s. So even though Pichaske is wrong, and bullying and sanctimonious when he thinks he's open-minded and wry, I'm oddly grateful to him, too, for making me thank the 1970s for giving me my start, as a reader and a critic.
David Pichaske
A Generation in Motion: Popular Music and Culture in the SixtiesOriginal price $5.95, purchase price $4.95
Worn paperback
C
It's ironic that I'm ending the 1970s with a "left-wing" book that pissed me off as much as the book that I started the decade with, Germaine Greer's The Female Eunuch. Regular readers of this blog (if there are such things) know that I don't usually write in my books, but here are some mental notes that I scrawled in thin air as I went along, reading this book for the first time in over 20 years, and with much less of an inferiority complex than last time:
- When Pichaske says that violent political protest is American as the CIA and John Wayne, "And that's exactly the problem I'm talking about."
- When Pichaske fails to see that "I Am the Walrus" is a parody, "You, Sir, are an idiot!"
- When Pichaske says that "Mother and Child Reunion" is about death, "No, it's about a menu."
- And when Pichaske whines that "the free-wheeling, wild, magnificent sixties" turned into "the sober, circumspect, temperate seventies," I thank him for perfectly encapsulating the biggest reason why this book doesn't work for me.
Now, obviously on a subject like this, a personal perspective can be welcome. But Pichaske doesn't have Schaffner's gift for telling his own story and the story of a generation in an accessible way. It's not even clear if he's writing to anyone beyond himself and people like him, despite the dedication addressed to his children. If you're writing so young 'uns can understand, don't keep asking, "Do you remember?" And although he points out early on that not everyone was everywhere in the 1960s, he seems to frequently forget this.
The main problem though is I am an unashamed literal child of the 1970s. I adored the first decade I remember and did not find it in the slightest bland or quiet. If it was less violent and angry than the 1960s in some ways (although that's debatable), that to me is a selling point. I consider the machismo and self-righteousness of the '60s to be two of that decade's most unpleasant aspects, and not in the slightest ways to bring about a better society. Unlike Pichaske, I see them as an extension of, not refutation of, the 1940s and '50s.
I enjoy much of the 1960s, particularly pop culture, from dope songs (although I've never been stoned) to, yes, Annette Funicello, the latter blasphemy in Pichaske's eyes. I love the '70s in all their tacky, shallow yet deep, feminist, gay-friendlier, and idealistically cynical glory. I'm grateful to the '60s for being the Point B to the A of the '50s and the C of the '70s. So even though Pichaske is wrong, and bullying and sanctimonious when he thinks he's open-minded and wry, I'm oddly grateful to him, too, for making me thank the 1970s for giving me my start, as a reader and a critic.
Yours Till Niagara Falls, Abby
1979, undated later edition, from Apple (Scholastic)
Jane O'Connor
Yours Till Niagara Falls, Abby
Original price $2.75, purchase price 25 cents
Very worn paperback
C
Very cliched account of a ten-year-old girl's first summer at camp, although there are moments where it's almost funny. Ironically, I bought the book in my early 30s because I had a friend who signed off her emails "Yours till Niagara Falls," but we lost touch and I never gave her the book. I've read it once before, and now it's going in the recycling bin.
Jane O'Connor
Yours Till Niagara Falls, Abby
Original price $2.75, purchase price 25 cents
Very worn paperback
C
Very cliched account of a ten-year-old girl's first summer at camp, although there are moments where it's almost funny. Ironically, I bought the book in my early 30s because I had a friend who signed off her emails "Yours till Niagara Falls," but we lost touch and I never gave her the book. I've read it once before, and now it's going in the recycling bin.
Poison Penmanship: The Gentle Art of Muckraking
1979, 1988 Noonday Press (Farrar, Straus and Giroux)
Jessica Mitford
Poison Penmanship: The Gentle Art of Muckraking
Original price $8.95, purchase price $5.40
Worn paperback with partially torn front cover
B
A collection of articles, some investigative reporting, others on some relatively uncontroversial topics, like "frenemies." Equally good are Mitford's behind-the-scenes "Comments," discussing where the ideas came from, whether and how the articles were changed upon publication, and reaction, if any. Best of the bunch are "Let Us Now Appraise Famous Writers," which brought down a mail-order business, temporarily anyway; "My Short and Happy Life as a Distinguished Professor," which I enjoyed all the more as a graduate of the Cal State system; and the Comment on her two articles about a rip-off posh restaurant. As Carl Bernstein says in his Afterword, Mitford tells and shows how to be a good reporter, including realizing your mistakes. (She seems as gleeful about angles she missed as a frenemy would be.)
Mitford sisters notes: "Frenemies" comes from one sister's term for a childhood companion (although Wikipedia credits Walter Winchell with the first published usage), and Nancy comes up a couple times, in the discussion of Jessica's visits to the set of The Loved One of course, and also in "You-All and Non-You-All," whose title had to be changed for American readers.
Jessica Mitford
Poison Penmanship: The Gentle Art of Muckraking
Original price $8.95, purchase price $5.40
Worn paperback with partially torn front cover
B
A collection of articles, some investigative reporting, others on some relatively uncontroversial topics, like "frenemies." Equally good are Mitford's behind-the-scenes "Comments," discussing where the ideas came from, whether and how the articles were changed upon publication, and reaction, if any. Best of the bunch are "Let Us Now Appraise Famous Writers," which brought down a mail-order business, temporarily anyway; "My Short and Happy Life as a Distinguished Professor," which I enjoyed all the more as a graduate of the Cal State system; and the Comment on her two articles about a rip-off posh restaurant. As Carl Bernstein says in his Afterword, Mitford tells and shows how to be a good reporter, including realizing your mistakes. (She seems as gleeful about angles she missed as a frenemy would be.)
Mitford sisters notes: "Frenemies" comes from one sister's term for a childhood companion (although Wikipedia credits Walter Winchell with the first published usage), and Nancy comes up a couple times, in the discussion of Jessica's visits to the set of The Loved One of course, and also in "You-All and Non-You-All," whose title had to be changed for American readers.
Thursday, November 22, 2012
Charmed Lives: A Family Romance
1979, possibly first edition, from Random House
Michael Korda
Charmed Lives: A Family Romance
Original and purchase price unknown
Hardcover with bent pages
B-
The lives of the title are those of film producer-director Alexander Korda and his brothers, Zoli and Vincent, the latter Michael's father. Michael grew up on the edges of their glamorous, eccentric world, idolizing Uncle Alex and then having to find his own path when Alex died. Michael did fine in his own right, becoming a major publisher with Simon & Schuster. (And yet it's Random House that published this memoir.) Michael's only son Chris continues the family's fame/notoriety as "leader of the Church of Euthanasia, techno musician and software developer."
While the Kordas are an interesting family, they don't always come across as likable, or even as impressive as Michael K. thinks, or at least thought as a hero-worshiping young man. Vincent seems to have been the nicest, which admittedly is like Harpo being the nicest Marx brother. I almost gave the book a C+ because I was getting tired of Michael's crush on his "Aunt Alexa," Alex's younger by almost four decades wife. Also, the timeline gets very muddled during the Alexa years, so that during the pivotal summer that Michael meets Alexa, I have no idea if it's 1948, when Michael is 14, or '52, when Michael is 18. Luckily, revolution breaks out in the Kordas' native land of Hungary the same year Alex dies, so the book gets interesting again.
I think I originally got this book because Alexander Korda's second wife was actress Merle Oberon, whom I had a minor interest in. Unfortunately, she's not in it much.
Michael Korda
Charmed Lives: A Family Romance
Original and purchase price unknown
Hardcover with bent pages
B-
The lives of the title are those of film producer-director Alexander Korda and his brothers, Zoli and Vincent, the latter Michael's father. Michael grew up on the edges of their glamorous, eccentric world, idolizing Uncle Alex and then having to find his own path when Alex died. Michael did fine in his own right, becoming a major publisher with Simon & Schuster. (And yet it's Random House that published this memoir.) Michael's only son Chris continues the family's fame/notoriety as "leader of the Church of Euthanasia, techno musician and software developer."
While the Kordas are an interesting family, they don't always come across as likable, or even as impressive as Michael K. thinks, or at least thought as a hero-worshiping young man. Vincent seems to have been the nicest, which admittedly is like Harpo being the nicest Marx brother. I almost gave the book a C+ because I was getting tired of Michael's crush on his "Aunt Alexa," Alex's younger by almost four decades wife. Also, the timeline gets very muddled during the Alexa years, so that during the pivotal summer that Michael meets Alexa, I have no idea if it's 1948, when Michael is 14, or '52, when Michael is 18. Luckily, revolution breaks out in the Kordas' native land of Hungary the same year Alex dies, so the book gets interesting again.
I think I originally got this book because Alexander Korda's second wife was actress Merle Oberon, whom I had a minor interest in. Unfortunately, she's not in it much.
Tuesday, November 20, 2012
About the New Yorker and Me: A Sentimental Journal
1979, 1988 edition
E. J. Kahn, Jr.
About the New Yorker and Me: A Sentimental Journal
Original price $9.95, purchase price $3.98
Slightly worn paperback
B-
As I noted in my review of Brendan Gill's Here at the New Yorker, Kahn and other contributors to the magazine were unhappy with Gill's version, especially his portrayal of founder Herbert Ross. But more of Kahn's book deals with second publisher, William Shawn, whom Kahn even dreams about. (As does his wife at one point.) You might guess correctly from the subtitle that this is Kahn's diary, for the year 1977, so he talks about Andy Young, and Annie Hall, and a lot of sports figures. Quite a bit of the book tells of Kahn's research and longer writing process for an article on Georgia. There's also a lot of name-dropping, some of it blunted by time. (Rita Gam may've been a frequent crossword puzzle answer then, but she's hardly a household name these days.) And Kahn talks about his family quite a bit.
Given the format, this doesn't ramble as much as it could, although it's definitely anecdotal. I found some of Kahn's sentences unnecessarily long (and I say that as someone who's given to parenthetical digressions), and I couldn't help wondering if the New Yorker editors couldn't break him of this habit. (At least the book isn't typo-ridden like Gill's.) I was also struck by how Kahn, as a 60-year-old liberal was trying to adapt to changing times, sharing household chores with his wife, and yet using that annoying form of "the John Smiths" (to describe John and Mary Smith, even if Mary is known by her maiden name). Yet overall, it's an entertaining enough read, and I did laugh out loud a couple times.
Kahn published a sequel the same year this edition was released, the later book called Year of Change: More about the New Yorker and Me, which I haven't read, but the year in question seems to have been when the new owners of the magazine forced Shawn out. Shawn died in 1992, Kahn two years later, and Gill, as I mentioned earlier, three years after that.
E. J. Kahn, Jr.
About the New Yorker and Me: A Sentimental Journal
Original price $9.95, purchase price $3.98
Slightly worn paperback
B-
As I noted in my review of Brendan Gill's Here at the New Yorker, Kahn and other contributors to the magazine were unhappy with Gill's version, especially his portrayal of founder Herbert Ross. But more of Kahn's book deals with second publisher, William Shawn, whom Kahn even dreams about. (As does his wife at one point.) You might guess correctly from the subtitle that this is Kahn's diary, for the year 1977, so he talks about Andy Young, and Annie Hall, and a lot of sports figures. Quite a bit of the book tells of Kahn's research and longer writing process for an article on Georgia. There's also a lot of name-dropping, some of it blunted by time. (Rita Gam may've been a frequent crossword puzzle answer then, but she's hardly a household name these days.) And Kahn talks about his family quite a bit.
Given the format, this doesn't ramble as much as it could, although it's definitely anecdotal. I found some of Kahn's sentences unnecessarily long (and I say that as someone who's given to parenthetical digressions), and I couldn't help wondering if the New Yorker editors couldn't break him of this habit. (At least the book isn't typo-ridden like Gill's.) I was also struck by how Kahn, as a 60-year-old liberal was trying to adapt to changing times, sharing household chores with his wife, and yet using that annoying form of "the John Smiths" (to describe John and Mary Smith, even if Mary is known by her maiden name). Yet overall, it's an entertaining enough read, and I did laugh out loud a couple times.
Kahn published a sequel the same year this edition was released, the later book called Year of Change: More about the New Yorker and Me, which I haven't read, but the year in question seems to have been when the new owners of the magazine forced Shawn out. Shawn died in 1992, Kahn two years later, and Gill, as I mentioned earlier, three years after that.
Monday, November 19, 2012
Americathon
1979, possibly first edition, from FOTONOVEL Publications
Neil Israel etc.*
Americathon
Original price unknown, purchase price $1.85
Worn paperback
C+
Once again, I'm giving a novelization of a bad 1970s movie a C+, although this one is a "FOTONOVEL."** This makes it more faithful than, say, the Digby adaptation, although there are a few lines that didn't make the movie, and much of the sexual humor has been, um, stripped out. I almost went with a B-, but some of the stills came out really dark.
Since the movie was released to DVD only last year and was a flop in theaters, I guess I should summarize it for you. Narrator George Carlin looks back to 1998, when he was a young Peter Riegert and John Ritter was President. (As the magazine covers in the Where Are They Nows reveal, the present is actually 2005ish.) The country is broke, in debt to NIKE (National Indian Knitting Enterprises), and unscrupulous presidential aide Fred Willard might sell the US to the Hebrabs, unless a telethon led by has-been actor Harvey Korman raises enough money in time. And there are lots of music cameos, most of which didn't make it into the FOTONOVEL. (Another reason I can't give a higher grade.)
How does this world of the late '90s compare to Cerf & co's '80s? Well, Look Back seems to have a more consistent overall plan, while this story just seems to be thrown together. For instance, if Mouling was living with Warren Beatty in 2002, when she was 1/3 his age, that makes her about 22 to his 65, and only 18 in 1998, which Zane Buzby definitely doesn't look. Also, if North Dakota is the first all-gay state, why is there a picture of Mount Rushmore?
There are some similarities in their predictions, as in both the UK is an amusement-park-like state of the US, Limeyland here, the United Magic Kingdom in Look Back. The Arabs go broke in Cerf's '80s, due to the Oil Glut, while here they have an empire with the Israelis. The US is equally bad off in both, especially economically. In both versions of America, meat is illegal, jogging suits are fashionable. OK, the latter was true in the real late twentieth century. In fact, on the Internet there are quite a few lists of all the things that this movie predicted, such as China's embrace of capitalism and the emergence of reality TV. By the time the real 1998 rolled around and I'd watched this movie several times on VHS, I'd noted the similarity of Chet Roosevelt to Bill Clinton. Ironically, this story is much more prescient than the more intelligent Look Back, which is probably just as well.
Of Cerf et. al's vision vs. Israel (Neil I mean), I'd take the latter, because it just looks like people are having more fun. As I recall, 1978 was a much happier year than '79, for me personally (10 rather than 11, and so not yet dealing with adolescent crap), but also for the US. The Iranian hostage situation started in '79 and a lot other things soured then. These two '79 books reflect this in their projections of what the next decade or two might be like. But in Looking Back, almost no one seems happy, while here people look like they're making the best of bad situations. And, even in stills, they're chewing the scenery like it's a meat substitute.
*It was a bit tricky deciding who's responsible for this, since no one is credited with the adaptation from movie to book. I decided that since Neil Israel directed the movie, cowrote the screenplay (based on a play by Proctor and Bergman, of Firesign Theatre), and has a cameo as a protesting rabbi, he should get the credit/blame.
**The photonovel was popular in the pre-home-video late '70s and early '80s, with film stills and dialogue. This is #14 in the FOTONOVEL series, the most ironic title on the list in the back being Lord of the Rings, that is, the 1978 Ralph Bakshi version.
Neil Israel etc.*
Americathon
Original price unknown, purchase price $1.85
Worn paperback
C+
Once again, I'm giving a novelization of a bad 1970s movie a C+, although this one is a "FOTONOVEL."** This makes it more faithful than, say, the Digby adaptation, although there are a few lines that didn't make the movie, and much of the sexual humor has been, um, stripped out. I almost went with a B-, but some of the stills came out really dark.
Since the movie was released to DVD only last year and was a flop in theaters, I guess I should summarize it for you. Narrator George Carlin looks back to 1998, when he was a young Peter Riegert and John Ritter was President. (As the magazine covers in the Where Are They Nows reveal, the present is actually 2005ish.) The country is broke, in debt to NIKE (National Indian Knitting Enterprises), and unscrupulous presidential aide Fred Willard might sell the US to the Hebrabs, unless a telethon led by has-been actor Harvey Korman raises enough money in time. And there are lots of music cameos, most of which didn't make it into the FOTONOVEL. (Another reason I can't give a higher grade.)
How does this world of the late '90s compare to Cerf & co's '80s? Well, Look Back seems to have a more consistent overall plan, while this story just seems to be thrown together. For instance, if Mouling was living with Warren Beatty in 2002, when she was 1/3 his age, that makes her about 22 to his 65, and only 18 in 1998, which Zane Buzby definitely doesn't look. Also, if North Dakota is the first all-gay state, why is there a picture of Mount Rushmore?
There are some similarities in their predictions, as in both the UK is an amusement-park-like state of the US, Limeyland here, the United Magic Kingdom in Look Back. The Arabs go broke in Cerf's '80s, due to the Oil Glut, while here they have an empire with the Israelis. The US is equally bad off in both, especially economically. In both versions of America, meat is illegal, jogging suits are fashionable. OK, the latter was true in the real late twentieth century. In fact, on the Internet there are quite a few lists of all the things that this movie predicted, such as China's embrace of capitalism and the emergence of reality TV. By the time the real 1998 rolled around and I'd watched this movie several times on VHS, I'd noted the similarity of Chet Roosevelt to Bill Clinton. Ironically, this story is much more prescient than the more intelligent Look Back, which is probably just as well.
Of Cerf et. al's vision vs. Israel (Neil I mean), I'd take the latter, because it just looks like people are having more fun. As I recall, 1978 was a much happier year than '79, for me personally (10 rather than 11, and so not yet dealing with adolescent crap), but also for the US. The Iranian hostage situation started in '79 and a lot other things soured then. These two '79 books reflect this in their projections of what the next decade or two might be like. But in Looking Back, almost no one seems happy, while here people look like they're making the best of bad situations. And, even in stills, they're chewing the scenery like it's a meat substitute.
*It was a bit tricky deciding who's responsible for this, since no one is credited with the adaptation from movie to book. I decided that since Neil Israel directed the movie, cowrote the screenplay (based on a play by Proctor and Bergman, of Firesign Theatre), and has a cameo as a protesting rabbi, he should get the credit/blame.
**The photonovel was popular in the pre-home-video late '70s and early '80s, with film stills and dialogue. This is #14 in the FOTONOVEL series, the most ironic title on the list in the back being Lord of the Rings, that is, the 1978 Ralph Bakshi version.
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