Encounters from a Kayak: Native People, Sacred Places, and Hungry Polar Bears by Nigel Foster

Posted on December 21, 2012 by pagesofjulia

One man’s reminiscences of flora, fauna and miscellanea encountered while paddling the globe.

For decades, Nigel Foster has been kayaking the world’s oceans, lakes and canals–as well as teaching the skill, designing the equipment and writing about his experiences. Encounters from a Kayak collects more than three dozen of his articles in a single volume, many of them never previously published. Each examines a moment in time in which Foster–sometimes alone, sometimes with fellow enthusiasts–interacts with the natural world and its inhabitants from his small craft. It is one of the strengths of the collection that not even the oldest pieces (extending as far back as the early 1980s) feel dated.

The stories are organized thematically around creatures, people, places, and flotsam and jetsam; the diversity and scope of Foster’s contacts in all these categories are impressive. In his encounters with historic artifacts in Scotland, local police in Shanghai and monkeys in the Florida Keys, Foster brings a sense of humble wonder to his environment. Naturally, he considers issues of ecology and conservation in his travels, but he never lectures. Rather, in unadorned prose, he delivers the experiences themselves: the glow of bioluminescence, the ordeal of a Dutchman’s flight from Nazi occupation by kayak, the history of a sleepy Minnesota town and the real-life Scylla and Charybdis of Scarba and Corryvreckan, just off the Scottish coast. Foster’s unassuming consideration of his surroundings is charming, simple and occasionally poetic. Natural history, human history, birds, jellyfish, thunderstorms and more come together to entertain and educate in Encounters from a Kayak.

This review originally ran as a *starred review* in the December 14, 2012 issue of Shelf Awareness for Readers. To subscribe, click here, and you’ll receive two issues per week of book reviews and other bookish fun!

Rating: 5 campfires.

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Strangers on a Train by Patricia Highsmith

Posted on December 20, 2012 by pagesofjulia

strangersStrangers on a Train was Patricia Highsmith’s first novel, and deservedly received a good deal of attention (although never as much as one might expect in her native United States) and is admired as one of her finest. It’s a quietly frightening story about two men, strangers, who meet on a train, and find that each has a person in his life who he would rather were not. Guy Haines wishes he were rid of his adulterous and manipulative (and estranged) wife Miriam, so that he might marry the lovely and wealthy Anne. Charles Bruno hates his father, who limits Bruno’s access to his own money. It is Bruno’s idea that they could trade murders: each could have an alibi for his own acquaintance, and would never be suspected in the murder of the other’s, because there would be no detectable motive. Guy is disgusted by Bruno and his concept, and leaves the train without saying goodbye.

SPOILERS FOLLOW.

Bruno proceeds to murder Miriam without his consent. Guy suspects it may have been Bruno but can hardly believe in such a strange action on the part of a stranger. And then he begins to hear from Bruno. Guy’s relationship with Anne, and his work as an increasingly acclaimed architect, both suffer as he feels guilt for his involvement in Miriam’s death; and Bruno’s harassment increases, as he now feels Guy owes him the returned favor of killing Bruno’s father. Put very simply, Bruno succeeds in driving Guy a little crazy, until he carries out the murder; but they don’t get away with the second as easily as they do the first, essentially because Bruno (clearly a psychopath, and a raging drunk to boot) can’t leave Guy alone. He’s obsessed. I will interject here that I think the “perfect crime” conceived by Bruno would have worked if he could have remained a stranger to Guy; but he can’t. I will lay off the spoilers here, mostly, and tell you that they both meet unpleasant ends, in rather different manners.

The structure of the book is worth noting. The early tension of the two strangers’ meeting, and Bruno’s excited murder of Miriam, go by rather quickly. And the final action that resolves the fates of Guy and Bruno also happens in a rush. The middle section of the book is all interior: we see some of Bruno’s thought processes and degeneration, but him being the psychopath makes him rather less interesting than Guy, who was an essentially good and “normal” person when we met him on page 1. Most of the psychological drama takes place inside Guy’s head, where much more change takes place, and he goes slowly… crazy? Or, to look at it another way, slowly gives in to some nasty impulses. I’m rather in the first camp, but I think there’s room for debate.

Highsmith has done a fine job here of what I believe she set out to do: she creates a creepy-crawly atmosphere of fear that the worst lies within each of us, that we don’t really know our friends or family like we think we do, that the worst is only an obnoxious phone call or two away. The inside of Bruno’s head is a nasty place to be, but it’s Guy’s inner workings that are truly frightening. It is a very effectively executed novel.

That said, it won’t be for everyone. Even as I found myself admiring Highsmith’s craft, and riveted to the page, I was not always entirely enthused. For one thing, the extended psych-drama of the lengthy middle section of the book was a little slow-paced for me. And while she does an excellent job of putting me inside that scary brain of Guy’s, I’m not so sure that I wanted to be there. Thus, call this a well-executed novel that I did not really want. And part of that is Highsmith’s victory and (perhaps) her intention: to make her reader uncomfortable. But I think part of that, too, is just that psych thrillers are not my favorite things.

Exquisitely done, but not my cup of tea. Still interested in The Talented Mr. Ripley; and the Hitchcock movie version of this one.

Rating: 7 imagined stranglings.

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Rain Gods by James Lee Burke (audio)

Posted on December 17, 2012 by pagesofjulia

raingodsJames Lee Burke is best known for his series of mysteries starring Detective Dave Robicheaux, who makes his home in New Iberia, Louisiana and whose adventures mostly take place there (or in New Orleans, or – in one case that I know of – in Montana). But he does write other books: I read a western a while back. Rain Gods is the first Burke I’ve read that stars Hackberry Holland, sheriff of a small Texas border town that I am pretty sure remains unnamed.

As the book opens, Hack has just discovered a shallow grave filled with illegal immigrants behind a church, and a young man named Pete Flores, a veteran of the war in Iraq, flees town with his girlfriend Vikki. They fear the team of professional criminals that were involved with the shooting, but the threads of the case are quickly so thoroughly intertwined that Pete himself doesn’t know who they’re running from. Between a New Orleans crime boss, a bumbling Texas strip club owner, a psychopathic hit man who thinks he’s the left hand of God, and a couple of young lackeys whose loyalties are yet to be tried, Hack and his deputy Pam Tibbs have their hands full in trying to solve the murder and protect Pete and Vikki. And they may still be working out the relationship they share, to boot.

As in any good mystery story, some subplots come out sooner than others. The man they call “Preacher,” who somehow thinks God is supportive of the mayhem he creates, is an enigma of pure evil; but he’s not the only one whose motives are unclear (or irrational). The romance that Pete and Vikki share is a welcome sweet note; and Hackberry’s storied past and accumulated guilt are a familiar but still satisfying facet. The fact that both Pete and Hack are still processing their experiences in war (Iraq and Korea, respectively) is a sobering note of reality that draws the two generations together effectively.

I don’t feel that Rain Gods is Burke’s finest work; I found it a little bit slow-paced. But it had all the hallmarks that I come to Burke for. Our hero is damaged and has committed great wrongs, but is essentially good. The setting is strongly evoked – and I liked it particularly, as the plot mostly takes place in West Texas borderlands, a location I’m fond of and fairly familiar with. And Preacher’s character is quite frightening – as he was intended to be.

The audio narration by Tom Stechschulte is excellent. I love the different voices he does – especially because there’s such a collection of characters featured here, with different accents and tones of voice that express emotions and pain and insanity. This audio format deserved a fine portrayal, and it got one.

I will be reading more James Lee Burke. But I may prioritize the Robicheaux novels.

Rating: 6 delusions.

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The Adventures of Sam Spade (audio)

Posted on December 10, 2012 by pagesofjulia

Here’s an interesting one for you. I had to do a little research to figure out exactly what I have here, and I’m still unclear on a few issues. Please pardon my rather lengthy introductory remarks.

Sam Spade is a character created by Dashiell Hammett in The Maltese Falcon, which I have not read but very much want to. Dashiell Hammett shares some early pulp-classic mystery genre credit with Raymond Chandler, who I have read (just a little) and enjoyed; also, Hammett was partner to Lillian Hellman for some 30 years. “The Adventures of Sam Spade” was a radio series in the 1940’s through 1951, based on Hammett’s character, but I think that Hammett was uninvolved (or marginally involved) in the radio version. His name (says Wikipedia) was removed from the show when his association with the Communist Party became known.

This three-cd set presents six episodes of the radio show, “digitally remastered” and “including never-before-released episodes” – I take it to mean these are original recordings, then, although I haven’t been able to confirm that in my (casual) online research. They do include advertisements for Wildroot Creme Oil, a hair product that was the show’s sponsor. These advertisements are initially somewhat charming in being period pieces, but they are many, and like any advertisement, they get old. Again, this speaks to the authentic feel of the production.

So what about the stories? The six episodes are… “The Insomnia Caper” (1948), “Sam and the Psyche” (1946), “Love Letter” (1949), “The Overjord Caper” (1949), “The Bow Window Caper” (1947), and “The Charogagogmanchogagogchabuna-mungamog Caper” (1949). Howard Duff plays Sam Spade and Lurene Tuttle plays his secretary Effie. These are radio shows rather than your average audiobook, so they include sound effects – gunshots, breaking glass, revving engines, traffic noise – and not just reading of the stories; rather than a single narrator doing voices for different characters, various actors play each character. This is classic pulp stuff, and it’s great fun. There is a definite element of tongue-in-cheek (at least that’s my reading, I can’t speak to the original intent, and the 1940’s are pretty remote to me, but surely…?) in Sam’s character: he is the exemplar of the wise-cracking, hard-boiled, tough-guy detective.

Each story tends to involve a person hiring Sam as a PI, often against Sam’s own wishes: in “Love Letter”, he gets a love letter from a woman he doesn’t know and heads to the assigned meeting point to find himself immediately involved in a situation he’d rather have avoided. His clients are as dodgy as any other character in the story; and there is often a woman who tries to seduce (or seduces) Sam, as a means of distracting him from a plot. Howard Duff’s gruff playing of the role is a large part of the effective mood of these stories.

While the plot of each is formulaic and somewhat forgettable, and the characters are rather stock, that needn’t detract from the fun of these stories. Formulas are often successful and that’s why they’re repeated (think about Agatha Christie). As a regular listener to audiobooks, this radio format that came with multiple actors and sound effects was a refreshing change. The Adventures of Sam Spade is a little simplistic, and definitely easy listening, but great fun, and different from the usual fare.

Rating: 6 double crosses.

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Real Man Adventures by T Cooper

Posted on December 6, 2012 by pagesofjulia

A dryly witty journey from female to male, with musings on what it means to be a man.

T Cooper, the author of several successful novels (including The Beaufort Diaries and Lipshitz 6), is fascinated by masculinity, perhaps in part because he’s had to work a little harder than the average man to get there: he was born female. Yet even as he explores the essence of masculinity and his own experiences with gender in Real Man Adventures, he expresses some reluctance to delve into the personal.

There is definitely some autobiographical content, but Cooper takes his own privacy seriously, as well as that of his wife and daughters, and is less interested in hashing out the details of his own life than he is in exploring the meaning and role of masculinity in society and the difficulties facing transgender men and women. Real Man Adventures sidesteps the concept of a straightforward memoir, instead compiling a whimsical collection of miscellanea: letters, interviews, lists and original art all help Cooper and his readers explore together what makes a man. This structure works perfectly, and feels like a conversation with Cooper himself.

Deeply honest, even while guarding a few precious items of privacy, Real Man Adventures is a brave book. Cooper does a great service not only to transgender people whose paths might be made a little clearer, but also to their loved ones, neighbors and acquaintances, who should find it a little easier to navigate relationships and communications thanks to this frank discussion. And the irreverent, wry humor throughout keeps Cooper’s brash personality at center stage, where it belongs.

This review originally ran as a *starred review* in the Nov. 27, 2012 issue of Shelf Awareness for Readers. To subscribe, click here, and you’ll receive two issues per week of book reviews and other bookish fun!

Rating: 8 pronouns.

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guest review: The Longest Race by Ed Ayres, from Pops

Posted on December 3, 2012 by pagesofjulia

As I read The Longest Race, I thought of my father throughout. He is a marathon runner and a trail runner, and has been contemplating issues of climate change, sustainable living, and humans’ place in nature quite a bit recently. I thought this would be a perfect book for him in its combination of themes, which you can read about in my review. Here, he responds. [His page numbers come from my advance review copy.]

Julia has already done her usual commendable job reviewing this book; my personal interest in Ayres’ two main themes – running, and human degradation of our earthly habitat – compel me to comment further (as she knew it would.) At the same time, I want to parse her use of “metaphor” to describe how running and human development are related in Ayres’ story. While he does often employ metaphor, I believe in many cases he is saying that running actually is part of human development and does have an impact on how we relate to the world. Such is the hubris that plays a part in his tale.

For the above reasons, I really enjoyed this read. That doesn’t mean I found it uniformly superb or satisfying, but the book’s strengths were more than enough to keep me going.

Using a 50-mile ultra to structure his narrative worked better than I expected. There were few threads about his race that required following intently, and those were not lost as we periodically reconnect to that story. The more esoteric subjects he contemplates along the way vary greatly – just as would one’s thoughts during the hours of such an endurance event. In fact, that is an example of the athletic authenticity I found throughout. While I was only familiar with Ayres generally as editor of the early magazine “Running Times,” his deep experience as a lifelong runner shows through. His mental meanderings during a 50-miler – and their sometimes-questionable lucidity – are a familiar element of “running long.”

I was not familiar with Ayres’ background in the themes of human impact on the earth; he worked for the Worldwatch Institute and describes how this commitment evolved from a Quaker upbringing and through a lifetime’s experience. Along the run, we gather bits of his own back-story and “meet” such characters as Mohammed Ali, Mikhail Gorbachev and Ted Taylor (nuclear weapon physicist); such moments are fun and interesting – and chilling, as with his quotation from Taylor evoking the cold war’s nuclear terror (p.94). Also chilling is Ayres’ observation that for those who study the science of ecology, the survival of modern human society is “not just an abstract, academic concept;” it is very immediate.

We learn with him on his journey; e.g. Jared Diamond’s observation that agriculture is “in many ways a catastrophe from which we have never recovered” (p.102) – or “anthropomorphism as a major root cause of the ecological crisis” as noted by many literary luminaries over the years (p.106) – or the 1992 consensus-scientists’ dire & explicit climate change declaration so long ago (p.163) – or a reminder that the regressive “progress” of a suburban lifestyle model may prove to be a mere 2-generation phenomenon. We also meet such authorities as Paul Shepard, Rachel Carson and Wendell Berry along the way.

Similarly, Ayres has much to offer about running itself – not just practical stuff, but history and science as well. He met and/or learned from such names as Joan Benoit, Ted Corbitt and George Sheehan. He cites a Joe Henderson article that I know I read at the same time 25 years ago. Ayres is not the namedropper – that’s my doing throughout here – but rather all these names simply arise as part of his story.

His introduction to the JFK ultra event’s origin unwinds into a period piece on the Kennedy Physical Fitness campaign (which I too experienced), including analysis of JFK’s civic motivation and his 1960 column in Sports Illustrated (who knew?!). I loved learning of David Carrier’s fascinating theory of primitive “persistence hunting,” where humans demonstrated the superior endurance trait that we runners still attempt to conjure (Ch.4). In fact, the role of endurance running throughout early history is compelling – including the Chasquis, the Inca runner-messengers.

Chasqui runner

Chasqui runner


The brief 23 page Appendix, “Notes for an Aspiring Ultrarunner,” is an worthy overview but any really interested reader will do well to research the many other references available.

All together, I enjoyed the blending of themes, emotions and ideas in Ayres’ book. Here is a single passage where Ayres is so nicely able to blend his heritage, running and science:
“The last sounds of the spectators faded, and, after a period of silence that could have been either five minutes or the hundred years it takes for a Quaker kid to sit through Sunday meeting, I found myself glancing left and right, the way I’d been taught as a teenager to drive a car – keep your eyes moving, don’t get fixated on the road ahead. Maybe that was a vestige of the hunter-gatherer’s need to read his surroundings.”

While it is different in some ways, a reader drawn to Ayres book may also appreciate Long Distance, by Bill McKibben. Here you would find a foremost climate change writer who instead writes about his experience pursuing an endurance goal (cross-country skiing) and the lessons he derives for surviving in our every day lives. (Interestingly, the one promotional blurb on the cover of Ayres’ book is a McKibben quote.)

Finally, I must note two of my own favorite observations about running, which he mentions along the way. One is the uncanny and almost inexplicable way that a seasoned trail runner, moving quicker than the eyes seem to process, can cover rough ground dense with rocks & roots – and yet every footstep survives the gauntlet (“almost inexplicable” because there is a scientific story, of course); this phenomenon is well-captured in the exclamation “do my feet have eyes of their own?!” (p.58)

The other fave comes after he has related the many challenges that can test a runner’s resolve and motivation, all the aches & pains & setbacks – which are all so easily overcome by the most sublime moments (or preferably hours!) This he also captures with a mere phrase: “When running is good, there is nothing like it.” (p.98) Alas, as we age, it becomes harder to remember that lesson – but after 35 years it can still be good, and there is still nothing like it.

So glad you liked it, Pops. Thanks for sharing.

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On Arctic Ground: Tracking Time Through Alaska’s National Petroleum Reserve by Debbie S. Miller

Posted on November 29, 2012 by pagesofjulia

A call for the preservation of Alaska’s natural heritage, with exquisite photos.

At 23 million acres, Alaska’s National Petroleum Reserve is the largest single unit of public lands in the United States, none of it permanently protected. Rich in oil, gas and coal, it is also home to an astounding diversity of plants and animals, many endangered and threatened; the migratory birds of six continents begin their lives in the Reserve. Debbie S. Miller’s On Arctic Ground is a striking plea for the conservation of this irreplaceable natural space.

Although it can be read cover to cover, the best way to enjoy this book is to take its short chapters one by one. Each provides mind-boggling details–like the bar-tailed godwit’s nonstop, 7,000-mile migration from western Alaska to New Zealand–and makes the starkly moving point that this incomparable area is highly vulnerable. Breathtaking full-page pictures throughout offer stunning portrayals of the Reserve’s strange and spectacular life forms.

This review originally ran in the Nov. 23, 2012 issue of Shelf Awareness for Readers. To subscribe, click here, and you’ll receive two issues per week of book reviews and other bookish fun!

Rating: 8 caribou.

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Abraham Lincoln: Vampire Hunter by Seth Grahame-Smith (audio)

Posted on November 28, 2012 by pagesofjulia

Abraham Lincoln: Vampire Hunter is an alternative history with fantasy/paranormal elements thrown in. It reexamines Abraham Lincoln’s life, his presidency, and the American Civil War, with a twist: the US is overrun with vampires, mostly unknown to the public, who are secretly pulling the strings that shape Abe’s life, the institution of slavery, and war. The book opens with a charming sequence in which a would-be novelist in a small town on the Hudson Valley meets a new resident and gets a book idea from him. The foreboding sense in the idyllic setting reminded me of Stephen King, which is a compliment.

It is a rather fascinating concept. I had my doubts at first – again, the whole vampires-in-pop-fiction trend gave me pause; it’s not a trend I have bought into in the past. But as soon as I began the book, I was drawn in. So full points for intriguing me early on. I loved the parts about Abe’s early life; the atmosphere, the mood of tension, of Abe’s efforts against long odds, his determination in the face of tragedy, are all well executed.

But I think the middle section of the book dragged on far too long; it’s a great concept that Grahame-Smith indulged in for too many pages. All of which is to say, it probably made a great movie! That may be the proper format.

Another concern: I had some misgivings about the use of vampires to explain some of the evils in our national history. Slavery, secession, civil war, all belong to vampires in this book (with a quick mention of WWII’s genocide apparently coming from the same source). While Grahame-Smith struck me as careful to always treat these heavy topics with due sobriety, it still makes me a little uneasy to play with them in this way. Slavery and civil war are unsettling, terrifying, gruesome, disturbing enough in fact; it rather feels like diminishing their somber import to make them the fictional playthings of entertainment in this way, no matter how carefully treated. And again, the tone of this book is serious and in always respectful. But I’m just not entirely sure. It gives me pause.

Late in the book, I really missed our narrator of the beginning section: the writer, that is, who is approached by the mysterious stranger and given the lost diaries of Abraham Lincoln. The quick sketch of small-town life and the birth of this novel was a definite strength, and I regret that we never returned to that early narrator at the end of the book. I was looking forward to revisiting him.

So I have my criticisms, as you can see; but I really did enjoy this audiobook, and never considered putting it down. I think Grahame-Smith could have executed his rather genius story concept in less space: my audio ran to 9 CDs, and he could have kept it under 6, in my opinion. But again, this only makes me more interested in the movie version. Apparently the screenplay is written by Grahame-Smith as well, which is a good sign; and hopefully that format will push for a little more condensed action, which the book could have used as well. Call this a rare case where I am excited for the movie after reading the book.

The audio narration by Scott Holst was good. He emphasizes mood as a narrator should; he varied the voices of his characters a little, was not overly theatrical, but lent atmosphere where it belonged.

As always when I read historical fiction, I found myself contemplating the line where fact meets fiction. In this case, I’m sad to say (and it’s far too often that I’m sad to say this!) I don’t know the subject well enough to judge for myself; but here are a few notes of interest. At the end of my audiobook is a short interview with the author, in which I learned: first, that he was in fact quite purposefully following the aforementioned trend of vampires in pop fiction; and secondly, that he had great respect for his subject and did a fair amount of research. Now, this is a subjective measure (and he’s judging himself, which makes the judgment even more subjective), but I still find it encouraging. Finally, he mentioned a particular source of nonfiction inspiration: Doris Kearns Goodwin’s Team of Rivals, which I have in my iPod just waiting my attentions. And that was the most encouraging detail of all. 🙂

Rating: 6 fangs.

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Boule de Suif by Guy de Maupassant

Posted on November 26, 2012 by pagesofjulia

I found a few unaccounted-for minutes the other night, and picked up a short read I’d been meaning to get to: the short stories of Guy de Maupassant. [Recommended by Hemingway.]

This review contains spoilers.

Set in the Franco-Prussian war, this story sees a group of ten citizens of Rouen fleeing Prussian occupation in a stagecoach for Le Havre. They are a mixed group representing a neat cross-section of French society: a merchant couple; a bourgeoisie couple; a count & countess; a Democratic revolutionary; a courtesan; and two nuns. They settle into polite chatting in the stagecoach along social lines, with all turning their noses up at the courtesan. But as the journey goes longer than expected and they are unable to find an inn to serve them lunch or dinner, the courtesan produces a large basket filled with delicacies, and everyone thaws. They make nice with her, and eat her food. The title Boule de Suif is generally translated as “Dumpling” or “Butterball” or the like (I believe, more literally, it is “ball of fat”) and refers to the courtesan:

Short and round, fat as a pig, with puffy fingers constricted at the joints, looking like rows of shorts sausages; with a shiny, tightly-stretched skin and an enormous bust filling out the bodice of her dress, she was yet attractive and much sought after, owing to her fresh and pleasing appearance.

But upon arrival at their overnight lodging, they are held up: the Prussian soldier in charge forbids they continue on their journey until the courtesan will provide her services to him. She refuses, being a patriotic and proud Frenchwoman. And the group seethes: their travels are being held up and, as they point out, this is her business anyway, isn’t it? Why shouldn’t a whore be a whore with a Prussian as well as any other man? They wheedle, exhort, and command – even the nuns – until she is broken down and does the deed and they continue on their way. In the final scene, the socially elevated ladies turn their shoulder away from her again. And everyone has remembered to pack a lunch except Boule de Suif, and no one offers to share with her.

This is a masterfully executed short story, and I can see why Hemingway admired it. The human element is heartbreaking. It is painful to see the defeat of Boule de Suif’s pride and principles; it is maddening to see the disgraceful behavior of the socially superior characters. It is also a neatly devised statement on social class: the merchant and bourgeoisie couples are greedy and grabbing, clearly willing to place their allegiance with whomever will leave them to their profits; the count and countess are weak and craven; the nuns are unchristian in their failure to share food with a hungry courtesan; and the revolutionary is a lecherous drunk. The courtesan is the most patriotic, brave, and principled of the group.

The writing style is enjoyable, too, and again I can see where Hemingway was influenced. Just look at this first sentence:

For several days in succession fragments of a defeated army had passed through the town.

and tell me you don’t see Hemingway there. The meter or rhythm alone reminds me of him; obviously the subject matter as well.

I am rusty in my close-reading skills. I recall a poem I read in high school, for English class, that we picked apart line by line and word by word, finding three and four layers of meaning therein. It was The Black Lace Fan by Eavan Boland, and I really enjoyed the lesson. I think this short story would bear the same sort of close scrutiny. Or, it can be enjoyed as a quick read.

Highly recommended, and I hope I find time for the rest of the stories in this volume soon.

Rating: 9 pretenses.

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The Man Called Cash: The Life, Love, and Faith of an American Legend by Steve Turner (audio)

Posted on November 19, 2012 by pagesofjulia

How could a biography of Johnny Cash not be extraordinary? (Well, the question of whether we seek out biographies of interesting people, versus interesting biographies of any old people, is another blog post.) I was excited to start this one. But warning, folks: it hits hard, and early. The first chapter is about the death of June Carter Cash after 35 years of marriage to the Man in Black, and I cried.

Johnny Cash is truly larger-than-life, as a celebrity and a public figure as well as in his music career. I’m a fan, but not a scholar of Cash’s life: prior to this book, what I knew of him was general cultural knowledge, or gleaned from his songs and the movie Walk the Line (which I enjoyed). So now I know a great deal more.

He was born in Arkansas and grew up in a town called Dyess (which Cash jokingly refers to as a socialist experiment – it was designed under FDR’s New Deal) in the midst of the Great Depression, and after high school, joined the Air Force and served in Germany; he returned to the South to marry a girl named Vivian whom he had met just weeks before shipping out. Cash and Vivian would have four daughters.

His music career came about in an interesting way. Cash had always been passionate about music, from childhood; his mother shared and inspired this love. He was not particularly gifted as a singer, and he was a mediocre guitar player who mostly learned from his Air Force buddies; but his songwriting did impress his peers from the beginning. Back in the southern US, he teamed up with a few coworkers of his brother’s, and formed Johnny Cash and the Tennessee Two, recorded his first single apparently on the strength of will alone, and… things took off from there. Names like Carl Perkins, Sam Phillips, and Elvis Presley figure in the early years of his career.

The shape of his musical career surprised me the most in the story of Cash’s life. He was always an innovator: he played an integral role in the birth of rock-n-roll; he blended styles and approached subject matter previously deemed inappropriate; and even in the final years before his death broke new ground. But I never realized how sort of unguided and hesitant those innovations were. He needed musicians, producers, and sound engineers around him to help shape his creativity. I say none of this to take away from the genius of Johnny Cash: he was unique, and his art remains unparalleled. I just hadn’t realized that he didn’t do what he did in a vacuum, that he had no great image or plan for his work, that he didn’t see the bigger picture himself. He needed help for that.

On tour in the 1960’s, Cash became close to fellow musical artist June Carter; they carried on an affair until Cash’s divorce from Vivian. During the same period, he struggled with methamphetamine addiction, and June wouldn’t marry him until he was clean, which turned out to be 1968. The drug use came and went for many years, but his marriage to June was steady. They had one child together, John Carter Cash.

I enjoyed learning about Johnny Cash. As it turned out, for me, this book’s greatest strength was its subject: rather than being an excellent biography, it detailed an excellent life. One minor gripe I have is in its handling of Cash’s religious life. Now, let it be said, Christianity played a huge role in Cash’s life: he was devout as a young man; struggled with his faith during the years of drug abuse and adultery; found a stronger religious foundation in his years of happy marriage to June; made a great deal of religious music and spoke publicly of his faith; and in many ways led a truly Christian life in terms of charity, compassion, and standing up for the disadvantaged. Handling Cash’s religious life is obligatory in any biography of the man. However, this biography approaches it from a certain perspective: it takes for granted that Christianity is good, and any strayings from the church are bad. See mentions of Billy Graham as an absolutely virtuous figure; praise of June Carter Cash for her total devotion to her husband (with religious references); and straightforward use of “light” and “dark” or “good times and bad” in reference to Cash’s more and less religious periods.

Author Steve Turner never takes on a voice of his own in his book; and I think that, if he were going to take a religious position as he has, that he should have spoken to that in his own voice. Does that make sense? To write as a Christian is not to write from a journalistically neutral place. The fact is that not all Turner’s readers are Christians; and he has done them a disservice in failing to zoom out to a neutral position from which to view his subject. I feel it would have been more honest to acknowledge a personal perspective.

The Christian leaning did not ruin this book for me; but I noticed it. And in noticing it, I was distracted from the fascinating story Turner had to tell. I guess I should have taken warning from the subtitle of the book: The Man Called Cash: The Life, Love, and Faith of an American Legend. Ah well. Silly me: I thought faith could be covered from a faith-neutral perspective. My final judgment on this question is that if you’re seeking a neutral and non-faith-based reading of Johnny Cash’s life, you should seek elsewhere. There are far too many biographies of this enormous figure to settle for one with such a bias.

Similarly, Turner’s perspective assumes that Cash was basically a good man. His mistakes, his “sins” if you will, his lapses, are all forgiven in advance. Turner turns a fundamentally uncritical eye on his subject. This bothered me far less than the Christian angle; in fact I noticed it far less, for the vital fact that I am a Cash fan who was sympathetic to the assumption that he was a force of good. But that doesn’t make it any less an error of journalistic neutrality. Again, there are different ways to skin this horse. Christians may appreciate this reading; fans may appreciate this reading. Those seeking a neutral and critical examination of Cash’s life should seek elsewhere. The Man Called Cash is a fan’s biography.

How about the narration? Rex Linn reads this book for us, and his deep voice and southern vowel sounds evoke Cash, which is pleasant. But he doesn’t do different voices for different characters at all; and some of the pauses between phrases are disjointed. I got the feeling that there may be some sloppy audio-editing involved. It was fine, but not the finest audio narration I’ve encountered, by a long shot.

I have made three criticisms here: two on the biased perspective of the author as a Christian and as a fan of Cash, and one on the audio reading. I feel these are worth noting. But I still enjoyed the book, again, mainly for the strength of Cash’s life. I recommend it with qualifications. If the issues I’ve outlined here bother you, by all means look for another Cash biographer as there are plenty! But this one does the job, too.

I’ll end with a strength. As I said, the book opens with the death of June Carter Cash in 2003. Her final weeks and those following her death are detailed finely; we get to know the Cash family as affected by losing its matriarch, and it is a beautiful and thorough and moving introduction. Its emotional impact opens the story forcefully. From here, we rewind to Cash’s origins, and then follow his life chronologically; when we come back to June’s death again, we can pass over it more quickly, having studied it earlier, and focus more on its impact on Cash himself. I found this structure very effective and powerful, and I am impressed by Turner’s planning in this regard.

Final verdict: obviously mixed. Draw your own conclusions.

Rating: 5 hit singles.

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