This "purposely and unavoidably selective" gathering of letters begins in 1931—when Rhys was divorced, 40, successfully published (After Leaving Mr. Mackenzie), long past her deep-scarring tragedies (traumatic first love affair, death of an infant son), and already "the restless spirit so often near despair" of Wyndham's introduction. Over the next 35 years she married twice more, saw both husbands die (one suddenly, one very slowly). She maintained a warm yet oddly distant relationship with her daughter Maryvonne. She moved from one unsatisfactory house or flat to another—forgotten by the literary world, increasingly isolated, always beleaguered by cold, rain, and stuffy/nosy neighbors. And, above all, she struggled with her writing: two more books in the 1930s. . . but only a few stories thereafter until Wide Sargasso Sea in 1966. For the most part, then, these letters—nearly all of them to Maryvonne, literary friend Peggy Kirkaldy, actress Selma Vaz Dias (who adapted much Rhys material for radio), and editor Wyndham—are glum, even bitter, with flickers of creative enthusiasm and wry pluck. Money problems and writer's block are a frequent, frustrating combination: "What is to be done? If I could earn some shekels I'd fly from damp and bloody Beckenham and finish my book. Oh God if I could finish it before I peg out or really turn into some fungus or other!" Husband #3 Max, convicted of fraud in 1950, is a vague, vexing presence. ("He's potty. I look potty, he is potty.") Household woes—including a long consideration of roaches—are shared. . . while the passing decades increase Rhys' bitterness about her failure to publish: "I will produce goods in 1958 if it's the last thing I do"; or (in 1961) "I've been seeing a lot of the collective face that killed a thousand thoughts lately, and sometimes there is blue murder in my wicked heart." And the collection ends in 1966, with the publication-at-last of Sargasso and the death (after years of illness) of Max. Despite an occasional reference to "drink," then, this is not the aged, alcoholic wreck of David Plante's Difficult Women; nor is there much of "the slant-eyed siren" whom Wyndham fondly recalls. Still, while casual Rhys fans will find this collection disappointingly monotonic (and surprisingly domestic), specialists will welcome the informal record here (with fine editorial annotation) of Rhys' anguished writing process—especially the long, frustrating evolution of Wide Sargasso Sea.
Pub Date: Aug. 1, 1984
ISBN: 0670427268
Page Count: 328
Publisher: Viking
Review Posted Online: April 9, 2012
Kirkus Reviews Issue: July 15, 1984
An enjoyable slice of 20th-century music journalism almost certain to provide something for most readers, no matter one’s...
Music journalist and musician Wald (Talking 'Bout Your Mama: The Dozens, Snaps, and the Deep Roots of Rap, 2014, etc.) focuses on one evening in music history to explain the evolution of contemporary music, especially folk, blues, and rock.
The date of that evening is July 25, 1965, at the Newport Folk Festival, where there was an unbelievably unexpected occurrence: singer/songwriter Bob Dylan, already a living legend in his early 20s, overriding the acoustic music that made him famous in favor of electronically based music, causing reactions ranging from adoration to intense resentment among other musicians, DJs, and record buyers. Dylan has told his own stories (those stories vary because that’s Dylan’s character), and plenty of other music journalists have explored the Dylan phenomenon. What sets Wald's book apart is his laser focus on that one date. The detailed recounting of what did and did not occur on stage and in the audience that night contains contradictory evidence sorted skillfully by the author. He offers a wealth of context; in fact, his account of Dylan's stage appearance does not arrive until 250 pages in. The author cites dozens of sources, well-known and otherwise, but the key storylines, other than Dylan, involve acoustic folk music guru Pete Seeger and the rich history of the Newport festival, a history that had created expectations smashed by Dylan. Furthermore, the appearances on the pages by other musicians—e.g., Joan Baez, the Weaver, Peter, Paul, and Mary, Dave Van Ronk, and Gordon Lightfoot—give the book enough of an expansive feel. Wald's personal knowledge seems encyclopedic, and his endnotes show how he ranged far beyond personal knowledge to produce the book.
An enjoyable slice of 20th-century music journalism almost certain to provide something for most readers, no matter one’s personal feelings about Dylan's music or persona.Pub Date: July 25, 2015
ISBN: 978-0-06-236668-9
Page Count: 368
Publisher: Dey Street/HarperCollins
Review Posted Online: May 15, 2015
Kirkus Reviews Issue: June 1, 2015
BOOK REVIEW
BOOK REVIEW
BOOK REVIEW
BOOK TO SCREEN
BOOK TO SCREEN
BOOK TO SCREEN
Stricter than, say, Bergen Evans or W3 ("disinterested" means impartial — period), Strunk is in the last analysis...
Privately published by Strunk of Cornell in 1918 and revised by his student E. B. White in 1959, that "little book" is back again with more White updatings.
Stricter than, say, Bergen Evans or W3 ("disinterested" means impartial — period), Strunk is in the last analysis (whoops — "A bankrupt expression") a unique guide (which means "without like or equal").Pub Date: May 15, 1972
ISBN: 0205632645
Page Count: 105
Publisher: Macmillan
Review Posted Online: Oct. 28, 2011
Kirkus Reviews Issue: May 1, 1972
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