Not especially funny, given its subject, and Zoglin more often asserts comic genius than demonstrates it with a choice line....
Middling account of the standup-comedy renaissance of a generation past, which made stars of Robin Williams, David Letterman, Jerry Seinfeld and many others.
Time editor Zoglin turns in dutiful, careful profiles of the principal characters in the standup movement, but he breaks very little news—except, perhaps, to correct the notion that Richard Pryor caught fire while freebasing cocaine; in fact, Zoglin writes, “he poured cognac all over himself and lit a Bic lighter.” The author begins his genealogy with Lenny Bruce, dead but still influential, and George Carlin, who had remade himself from straight, slightly older comic to hip icon with some daring career moves that turned out to be right on the money. Carlin and Pryor ruled the early ’70s, with Robert Klein and David Steinberg not far behind, filling concert halls and Johnny Carson’s couch. Their acolytes, careful students of comedy almost pathologically driven to succeed, jockeyed for position at New York clubs such as Budd Friedman’s Improv and Rick Newman’s Catch a Rising Star. Some had modest careers, some died young, but a few—Seinfeld, the almost scarily needy Jay Leno, Richard Lewis—took off just about the time comedy was changing, as the with-it observations of Richard Belzer gave way to the vapidities of Steve Martin. Zoglin touches on some interesting matters: why comedy moved from New York to Los Angeles (because L.A. was where Carson was), why few women succeeded in standup (because Carson was scared of them). But he does little to link the auteur-jokester revolution to other cultural trends in music, film and art. Shy on any history but the personal, this is more a long People-ish magazine piece than a book.
Not especially funny, given its subject, and Zoglin more often asserts comic genius than demonstrates it with a choice line. “If you get a laugh, you’re golden,” the author rightly observes. This one goes for the bronze.Pub Date: Feb. 1, 2008
ISBN: 978-1-58234-624-3
Page Count: 256
Publisher: Bloomsbury
Review Posted Online: May 19, 2010
Kirkus Reviews Issue: Jan. 1, 2008
BOOK REVIEW
BOOK REVIEW
A superb book about doing his job by a master of his craft.
The renowned writer offers advice on information-gathering and nonfiction composition.
The book consists of eight instructive and charming essays about creating narratives, all of them originally composed for the New Yorker, where McPhee (Silk Parachute, 2010, etc.) has been a contributor since the mid-1960s. Reading them consecutively in one volume constitutes a master class in writing, as the author clearly demonstrates why he has taught so successfully part-time for decades at Princeton University. In one of the essays, McPhee focuses on the personalities and skills of editors and publishers for whom he has worked, and his descriptions of those men and women are insightful and delightful. The main personality throughout the collection, though, is McPhee himself. He is frequently self-deprecating, occasionally openly proud of his accomplishments, and never boring. In his magazine articles and the books resulting from them, McPhee rarely injects himself except superficially. Within these essays, he offers a departure by revealing quite a bit about his journalism, his teaching life, and daughters, two of whom write professionally. Throughout the collection, there emerge passages of sly, subtle humor, a quality often absent in McPhee’s lengthy magazine pieces. Since some subjects are so weighty—especially those dealing with geology—the writing can seem dry. There is no dry prose here, however. Almost every sentence sparkles, with wordplay evident throughout. Another bonus is the detailed explanation of how McPhee decided to tackle certain topics and then how he chose to structure the resulting pieces. Readers already familiar with the author’s masterpieces—e.g., Levels of the Game, Encounters with the Archdruid, Looking for a Ship, Uncommon Carriers, Oranges, and Coming into the Country—will feel especially fulfilled by McPhee’s discussions of the specifics from his many books.
A superb book about doing his job by a master of his craft.Pub Date: Sept. 5, 2017
ISBN: 978-0-374-14274-2
Page Count: 208
Publisher: Farrar, Straus and Giroux
Review Posted Online: May 8, 2017
Kirkus Reviews Issue: June 1, 2017
The memoir of George Dawson, who learned to read when he was 98, places his life in the context of the entire 20th century in this inspiring, yet ultimately blighted, biography. Dawson begins his story with an emotional bang: his account of witnessing the lynching of a young African-American man falsely accused of rape. America’s racial caste system and his illiteracy emerge as the two biggest obstacles in Dawson’s life, but a full view of the man overcoming the obstacles remains oddly hidden. Travels to Ohio, Canada, and Mexico reveal little beyond Dawson’s restlessness, since nothing much happens to him during these wanderings. Similarly, the diverse activities he finds himself engaging in—bootlegging in St. Louis, breaking horses, attending cockfights—never really advance the reader’s understanding of the man. He calls himself a “ladies’ man” and hints at a score of exciting stories, but then describes only his decorous marriage. Despite the personal nature of this memoir, Dawson remains a strangely aloof figure, never quite inviting the reader to enter his world. In contrast to Dawson’s diffidence, however, Glaubman’s overbearing presence, as he repeatedly parades himself out to converse with Dawson, stifles any momentum the memoir might develop. Almost every chapter begins with Glaubman presenting Dawson with a newspaper clipping or historical fact and asking him to comment on it, despite the fact that Dawson often does not remember or never knew about the event in question. Exasperated readers may wonder whether Dawson’s life and his accomplishments, his passion for learning despite daunting obstacles, is the tale at hand, or whether the real issue is his recollections of Archduke Ferdinand. Dawson’s achievements are impressive and potentially exalting, but the gee-whiz nature of the tale degrades it to the status of yet another bowl of chicken soup for the soul, with a narrative frame as clunky as an old bone.
Pub Date: Feb. 1, 2000
ISBN: 0-375-50396-X
Page Count: 288
Publisher: Random House
Review Posted Online: May 19, 2010
Kirkus Reviews Issue: Dec. 15, 1999
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