An American writer from Chicago falls in love with what he sees as an ideal society in the Bruco contrada, an ancient subdivision of Siena, Italy, and strives mightily to become accepted into it.
To Rodi (Dogged Pursuit: My Year of Competing Dusty, the World’s Least Likely Agility Dog, 2009, etc.) the robust Italian appetite for life was a welcome contrast to the “dismaying anemia of modern American culture.” Driven by a deep desire to belong, he traveled to Siena seven times between 2003 and 2009. Several of his trips occurred during the Palio, the colorful civic competition among contrade held twice each summer and featuring a horse race around the Piazza del Campo in the city’s center. Rodi views this celebration and game as central to the life of Siena, renewing its people’s hope and making them the happiest and most self-reliant people he’s ever met. Usually, he was accompanied and guided by Dario, a genial entrepreneur who gave him entry into the society to which he longed to belong. Acceptance did not come easy for a gay, middle-aged American whose Italian was shaky, and Rodi worked hard to fit in. Good food and plenty of wine eased the way, however. In a generally self-deprecating manner, the author recounts his missteps, minor achievements (being recognized by a bartender, being greeted on the street) and embarrassing moments (wearing too-short yellow shorts in a footrace). In 2009, Rodi got his wish when he was honored by becoming an official member of the contrada, a ceremony during which he happily swore allegiance to its traditions. A lighthearted account, a touch snobbish at times, but entertaining and funny.
Pub Date: June 21, 2011
ISBN: 978-0-345-52105-7
Page Count: 288
Publisher: Ballantine
Review Posted Online: May 3, 2011
Kirkus Reviews Issue: May 15, 2011
Analyzing his craft, a careful craftsman urges with Thoreauvian conviction that writers should simplify, simplify, simplify.
A New York Times columnist and editorial board member delivers a slim book for aspiring writers, offering saws and sense, wisdom and waggery, biases and biting sarcasm.
Klinkenborg (Timothy; or, Notes of an Abject Reptile, 2006), who’s taught for decades, endeavors to keep things simple in his prose, and he urges other writers to do the same. (Note: He despises abuses of the word as, as he continually reminds readers.) In the early sections, the author ignores traditional paragraphing so that the text resembles a long free-verse poem. He urges readers to use short, clear sentences and to make sure each one is healthy before moving on; notes that it’s acceptable to start sentences with and and but; sees benefits in diagramming sentences; stresses that all writing is revision; periodically blasts the formulaic writing that many (most?) students learn in school; argues that knowing where you’re headed before you begin might be good for a vacation, but not for a piece of writing; and believes that writers must trust readers more, and trust themselves. Most of Klinkenborg’s advice is neither radical nor especially profound (“Turn to the poets. / Learn from them”), and the text suffers from a corrosive fallacy: that if his strategies work for him they will work for all. The final fifth of the text includes some passages from writers he admires (McPhee, Oates, Cheever) and some of his students’ awkward sentences, which he treats analytically but sometimes with a surprising sarcasm that veers near meanness. He includes examples of students’ dangling modifiers, malapropisms, errors of pronoun agreement, wordiness and other mistakes.
Analyzing his craft, a careful craftsman urges with Thoreauvian conviction that writers should simplify, simplify, simplify.Pub Date: Aug. 7, 2012
ISBN: 978-0-307-26634-7
Page Count: 224
Publisher: Knopf
Review Posted Online: May 13, 2012
Kirkus Reviews Issue: June 15, 2012
BOOK REVIEW
BOOK REVIEW
Highly recommended—anyone at all interested in music will learn a lot from this book.
From the former Talking Heads frontman, a supremely intelligent, superbly written dissection of music as an art form and way of life.
Drawing on a lifetime of music-making as an amateur, professional, performer, producer, band member and solo artist, Byrne (Bicycle Diaries, 2009) tackles the question implicit in his title from multiple angles: How does music work on the ear, brain and body? How do words relate to music in a song? How does live performance relate to recorded performance? What effect has technology had on music, and music on technology? Fans of the Talking Heads should find plenty to love about this book. Steering clear of the conflicts leading to the band’s breakup, Byrne walks through the history, album by album, to illustrate how his views about performance and recording changed with the onset of fame and (small) fortune. He devotes a chapter to the circumstances that made the gritty CBGB nightclub an ideal scene for adventurous artists like Patti Smith, the Ramones, Blondie and Tom Verlaine and Television. Always an intensely thoughtful experimenter, here he lets us in on the thinking behind the experiments. But this book is not just, or even primarily, a rock memoir. It’s also an exploration of the radical transformation—or surprising durability—of music from the beginning of the age of mechanical reproduction through the era of iTunes and MP3s. Byrne touches on all kinds of music from all ages and every part of the world.
Highly recommended—anyone at all interested in music will learn a lot from this book.Pub Date: Sept. 12, 2012
ISBN: 978-1-936365-53-1
Page Count: 352
Publisher: McSweeney’s
Review Posted Online: July 31, 2012
Kirkus Reviews Issue: Aug. 15, 2012
BOOK REVIEW
BOOK REVIEW
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