Hennig, a freelance journalist, offers diverse cultural, historical, artistic, and literary perspectives on human hindquarters. He may not have any fundamental aesthetic thesis to propound in this loosely arranged series of vignette-essays, but his conversational touch lightly mocks academia's current obsession with such matters as body theory and the ``gaze.'' In his ongoing contemplation of the S-silhouette and the hourglass figure, Hennig examines, tongue-in-cheek, such aspects of the posterior as its evolution, its depiction in the art of Renoir, Degas, and Toulouse-Lautrec, the comparative movie careers of Marilyn Monroe and Brigitte Bardot, the three varieties of bottom-pinching as practiced in Italy (pizzicato, vivace, and sustenuto), and the medieval blazon, which is an apostrophic verse genre devoted to body parts. Hennig does not neglect the male buttocks, noting representations from the ancient Greeks through Michelangelo and up to GÇricault. One of the odder items that Hennig turns up concerns one theory about the Mona Lisa's ``twisted, slightly idiotic smile,'' which supposedly is a representation of a boy's posterior turned on its side. Throughout, these disquisitions are embellished with literary allusions and quotes from the likes of Baudelaire and Apollinaire, though Hennig sometimes over-relies on certain sources, such as Desmond Morris's The Naked Ape for anthropology and Sir Kenneth Clark's art criticism. The only drawback to this slim, entertaining volume is its Francocentrism: Noted buttocks fanciers Chaucer and Swinburne go unmentioned, although Hennig discusses French slang and advertising campaigns at some length. Although The Rear View often risks glib showiness, its celebration of the derriäre is generally witty, amusing, and literate. (16 pages b&w illustrations, not seen)

Pub Date: April 2, 1997

ISBN: 0-517-70814-0

Page Count: 192

Publisher: Crown

Review Posted Online: May 20, 2010

Kirkus Reviews Issue: Feb. 15, 1997

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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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Possibly inspired by the letters Cleary has received as a children's author, this begins with second-grader Leigh Botts' misspelled fan letter to Mr. Henshaw, whose fictitious book itself derives from the old take-off title Forty Ways W. Amuse a Dog. Soon Leigh is in sixth grade and bombarding his still-favorite author with a list of questions to be answered and returned by "next Friday," the day his author report is due. Leigh is disgruntled when Mr. Henshaw's answer comes late, and accompanied by a set of questions for Leigh to answer. He threatens not to, but as "Mom keeps nagging me about your dumb old questions" he finally gets the job done—and through his answers Mr. Henshaw and readers learn that Leigh considers himself "the mediumest boy in school," that his parents have split up, and that he dreams of his truck-driver dad driving him to school "hauling a forty-foot reefer, which would make his outfit add up to eighteen wheels altogether. . . . I guess I wouldn't seem so medium then." Soon Mr. Henshaw recommends keeping a diary (at least partly to get Leigh off his own back) and so the real letters to Mr. Henshaw taper off, with "pretend," unmailed letters (the diary) taking over. . . until Leigh can write "I don't have to pretend to write to Mr. Henshaw anymore. I have learned to say what I think on a piece of paper." Meanwhile Mr. Henshaw offers writing tips, and Leigh, struggling with a story for a school contest, concludes "I think you're right. Maybe I am not ready to write a story." Instead he writes a "true story" about a truck haul with his father in Leigh's real past, and this wins praise from "a real live author" Leigh meets through the school program. Mr. Henshaw has also advised that "a character in a story should solve a problem or change in some way," a standard juvenile-fiction dictum which Cleary herself applies modestly by having Leigh solve his disappearing lunch problem with a burglar-alarmed lunch box—and, more seriously, come to recognize and accept that his father can't be counted on. All of this, in Leigh's simple words, is capably and unobtrusively structured as well as valid and realistic. From the writing tips to the divorced-kid blues, however, it tends to substitute prevailing wisdom for the little jolts of recognition that made the Ramona books so rewarding.

Pub Date: Aug. 22, 1983

ISBN: 143511096X

Page Count: 133

Publisher: Morrow/HarperCollins

Review Posted Online: Oct. 16, 2011

Kirkus Reviews Issue: Aug. 1, 1983

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