edited by David McCall Gordon ‧ RELEASE DATE: March 28, 1994
Only serious Poundians will want to delve into this selection from the poet's correspondence with his protÇgÇ and publisher, James Laughlin. As dense and difficult as Pound's poetry, his letters indulge his penchant for odd punctuation, excessive wordplay, intentional misspellings, and typographical high jinks. From almost three thousand items of correspondence between Pound and Laughlin, Gordon pieces together bits of nearly four hundred letters to form a somewhat cohesive narrative. But the going is tough, relieved only by the editor's prose and annotations. But even here, Gordon is given to Poundian eccentricity, leaving some things hopelessly obscure and elaborating on the ridiculously obvious. Laughlin's relations with Pound (1885-1972) begin in 1933, when the young Harvard student (1914-) seeks out his idol, and eventually studies with him informally in Italy at ``Ezruversity.'' Pound smartly steers the aspiring poet toward publishing—and thus was born New Directions, home to Pound as well as Pound's friends, whom Laughlin promoted with enthusiasm and generosity. Laughlin stuck with his mentor through the difficult war years, when Pound's cranky politics and anti-Semitism made him persona non grata in American literary circles. Laughlin never gives in to Pound's dumb social ideas, but he does mimic his goofy epistolary style. Among Pound's better puns and epithets are ``Bitch and Bugle'' for Hound and Horn, ``hippopoetess'' for Amy Lowell, and ``Nude Erections'' for New Directions. But repeated over and over, these tend to wear thin, much like Pound's non-literary opinions. The latest in a series of volumes of letters between Laughlin and his authors—others include Kenneth Rexroth, Delmore Schwartz, and William Carlos Williams—this is surely the most dizzying.
Pub Date: March 28, 1994
ISBN: 0-393-03540-9
Page Count: 288
Publisher: Norton
Review Posted Online: May 19, 2010
Kirkus Reviews Issue: Jan. 1, 1994
Share your opinion of this book
by Ozzy Osbourne with Chris Ayres ‧ RELEASE DATE: Jan. 25, 2010
An autobiography as toxic and addictive as any drug its author has ever ingested.
The legendary booze-addled metal rocker turned reality-TV star comes clean in his tell-all autobiography.
Although brought up in the bleak British factory town of Aston, John “Ozzy” Osbourne’s tragicomic rags-to-riches tale is somehow quintessentially American. It’s an epic dream/nightmare that takes him from Winson Green prison in 1966 to a presidential dinner with George W. Bush in 2004. Tracing his adult life from petty thief and slaughterhouse worker to rock star, Osbourne’s first-person slang-and-expletive-driven style comes off like he’s casually relating his story while knocking back pints at the pub. “What you read here,” he writes, “is what dribbled out of the jelly I call my brain when I asked it for my life story.” During the late 1960s his transformation from inept shoplifter to notorious Black Sabbath frontman was unlikely enough. In fact, the band got its first paying gigs by waiting outside concert venues hoping the regularly scheduled act wouldn’t show. After a few years, Osbourne and his bandmates were touring America and becoming millionaires from their riff-heavy doom music. As expected, with success came personal excess and inevitable alienation from the other members of the group. But as a solo performer, Osbourne’s predilection for guns, drink, drugs, near-death experiences, cruelty to animals and relieving himself in public soon became the stuff of legend. His most infamous exploits—biting the head off a bat and accidentally urinating on the Alamo—are addressed, but they seem tame compared to other dark moments of his checkered past: nearly killing his wife Sharon during an alcohol-induced blackout, waking up after a bender in the middle of a busy highway, burning down his backyard, etc. Osbourne is confessional to a fault, jeopardizing his demonic-rocker reputation with glib remarks about his love for Paul McCartney and Robin Williams. The most distinguishing feature of the book is the staggering chapter-by-chapter accumulation of drunken mishaps, bodily dysfunctions and drug-induced mayhem over a 40-plus-year career—a résumé of anti-social atrocities comparable to any of rock ’n’ roll’s most reckless outlaws.
An autobiography as toxic and addictive as any drug its author has ever ingested.Pub Date: Jan. 25, 2010
ISBN: 978-0-446-56989-7
Page Count: 320
Publisher: Grand Central Publishing
Review Posted Online: May 19, 2010
Kirkus Reviews Issue: Dec. 1, 2009
Share your opinion of this book
More About This Book
IN THE NEWS
by E.T.A. Hoffmann ‧ RELEASE DATE: Oct. 28, 1996
This is not the Nutcracker sweet, as passed on by Tchaikovsky and Marius Petipa. No, this is the original Hoffmann tale of 1816, in which the froth of Christmas revelry occasionally parts to let the dark underside of childhood fantasies and fears peek through. The boundaries between dream and reality fade, just as Godfather Drosselmeier, the Nutcracker's creator, is seen as alternately sinister and jolly. And Italian artist Roberto Innocenti gives an errily realistic air to Marie's dreams, in richly detailed illustrations touched by a mysterious light. A beautiful version of this classic tale, which will captivate adults and children alike. (Nutcracker; $35.00; Oct. 28, 1996; 136 pp.; 0-15-100227-4)
Pub Date: Oct. 28, 1996
ISBN: 0-15-100227-4
Page Count: 136
Publisher: Harcourt
Review Posted Online: May 19, 2010
Kirkus Reviews Issue: Aug. 15, 1996
Share your opinion of this book
More by E.T.A. Hoffmann
BOOK REVIEW
by E.T.A. Hoffmann ; adapted by Natalie Andrewson ; illustrated by Natalie Andrewson
BOOK REVIEW
by E.T.A. Hoffmann & illustrated by Julie Paschkis
© Copyright 2025 Kirkus Media LLC. All Rights Reserved.
Hey there, book lover.
We’re glad you found a book that interests you!
We can’t wait for you to join Kirkus!
It’s free and takes less than 10 seconds!
Already have an account? Log in.
OR
Trouble signing in? Retrieve credentials.
Welcome Back!
OR
Trouble signing in? Retrieve credentials.
Don’t fret. We’ll find you.