A welcome addition to Weschler’s body of work.
Fugitive essays that touch on the sublime beauty of the world—and its naked weirdness, and the strangeness and murderousness of humans, and other such tropes.
“The world as it is is overdetermined: the web of all those interrelationships is dense to the point of saturation.” So writes Weschler (Mr. Wilson’s Cabinet of Wonder, 1995, etc.), who thrives on tracing unlikely linkages among disparate persons and things without, blessedly, resorting to postmodern barbarisms in order to make his points. Thus, for instance, Weschler ponders the nature of art as it emerges in the masterworks of Jan Vermeer, born in a time of savage warfare across northern Europe (“at a tremendously turbulent juncture in the history of his continent, he had been finding—and, yes, inventing—a zone filled with peace, a small room, an intimate vision”), and then, by a bit of rhetorical magic, joins that happy vision to the hungers of memory that fueled the slaughter in the former Yugoslavia. He considers the elective affinities that turn up as leitmotif in the lives of the Polish exile Roman Polanski (Weschler’s profile of whom may well be the best in the large literature devoted to the filmmaker and international outlaw), the propagandist Jerzy Urban (“short, squat, porcine, with ludicrously oversized, radar-dish ears”), the child of Holocaust survivors Art Spiegelman (whose odd battles with the filmmaker Steven Spielberg make for yet another surprising twist). He touches on the photographic collages of David Hockney, the Jewishness of Star Trek’s Spock, the musical compositions of his grandfather, and the experience of living through the Northridge earthquake of 1994. The pieces don’t add up to anything approaching a coherent whole (things postmodern seldom do), and themes come and go, but Weschler’s indefatigable literariness and pleasantly unpretentious style help make these fugitive pieces a pleasure to read.
A welcome addition to Weschler’s body of work.Pub Date: July 6, 2004
ISBN: 0-679-44270-7
Page Count: 416
Publisher: Pantheon
Review Posted Online: May 19, 2010
Kirkus Reviews Issue: May 1, 2004
BOOK REVIEW
BOOK REVIEW
BOOK REVIEW
For Howard Zinn, long-time civil rights and anti-war activist, history and ideology have a lot in common. Since he thinks that everything is in someone's interest, the historian—Zinn posits—has to figure out whose interests he or she is defining/defending/reconstructing (hence one of his previous books, The Politics of History). Zinn has no doubts about where he stands in this "people's history": "it is a history disrespectful of governments and respectful of people's movements of resistance." So what we get here, instead of the usual survey of wars, presidents, and institutions, is a survey of the usual rebellions, strikes, and protest movements. Zinn starts out by depicting the arrival of Columbus in North America from the standpoint of the Indians (which amounts to their standpoint as constructed from the observations of the Europeans); and, after easily establishing the cultural disharmony that ensued, he goes on to the importation of slaves into the colonies. Add the laborers and indentured servants that followed, plus women and later immigrants, and you have Zinn's amorphous constituency. To hear Zinn tell it, all anyone did in America at any time was to oppress or be oppressed; and so he obscures as much as his hated mainstream historical foes do—only in Zinn's case there is that absurd presumption that virtually everything that came to pass was the work of ruling-class planning: this amounts to one great indictment for conspiracy. Despite surface similarities, this is not a social history, since we get no sense of the fabric of life. Instead of negating the one-sided histories he detests, Zinn has merely reversed the image; the distortion remains.
Pub Date: Jan. 1, 1979
ISBN: 0061965588
Page Count: 772
Publisher: Harper & Row
Review Posted Online: May 26, 2012
Kirkus Reviews Issue: Jan. 1, 1979
BOOK REVIEW
BOOK REVIEW
BOOK REVIEW
However charily one should apply the word, a beautiful book, an unconditionally involving memoir for our time or any time.
Maya Angelou is a natural writer with an inordinate sense of life and she has written an exceptional autobiographical narrative which retrieves her first sixteen years from "the general darkness just beyond the great blinkers of childhood."
Her story is told in scenes, ineluctably moving scenes, from the time when she and her brother were sent by her fancy living parents to Stamps, Arkansas, and a grandmother who had the local Store. Displaced they were and "If growing up is painful for the Southern Black girl, being aware of her displacement is the rust on the razor that threatens the throat." But alternating with all the pain and terror (her rape at the age of eight when in St. Louis With her mother) and humiliation (a brief spell in the kitchen of a white woman who refused to remember her name) and fear (of a lynching—and the time they buried afflicted Uncle Willie under a blanket of vegetables) as well as all the unanswered and unanswerable questions, there are affirmative memories and moments: her charming brother Bailey; her own "unshakable God"; a revival meeting in a tent; her 8th grade graduation; and at the end, when she's sixteen, the birth of a baby. Times When as she says "It seemed that the peace of a day's ending was an assurance that the covenant God made with children, Negroes and the crippled was still in effect."
However charily one should apply the word, a beautiful book, an unconditionally involving memoir for our time or any time.Pub Date: Feb. 1, 1969
ISBN: 0375507892
Page Count: 235
Publisher: Random House
Review Posted Online: May 14, 2012
Kirkus Reviews Issue: Feb. 1, 1969
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