McEvoy, a British professor of drama and English, offers graduating high school seniors a concise and even-handed view of the Bard the way they'll be expected to see him in college English classes.
Every school of modern thought seems to have found a way to draw Shakespeare into its arsenal of argumentation; in particular, the Marxists and the feminists have found much to say about A Midsummer Night's Dream and The Taming of the Shrew. McEvoy is refreshing in that he takes no sides and instead presents these and other (more traditional) views of the greatest English playwright's work with grace and finesse. His goal is to prepare the high school student, who has been forced to read these plays as mere books—ripe for extraction of plot and character—for a university-level analysis of Shakespearean drama. McEvoy makes a nuanced, multifaceted argument for the plays as theater, not literature, emphasizing the importance to Shakespeare of stage directions, the physical orientation of the playhouse, and interaction with the audience. He presents each controversial aspect of textual meaning through several different ideological prisms, with particular attention (but not favoritism) given to feminist critique. Sidebars in each chapter build a sturdy cultural context, surveying the historical evolution of gender roles, social mobility, theater companies, playhouses, and more. The second half of McEvoy's study tracks the principal features of each Shakespearean genre, suggesting (but not insisting) that certain overarching themes tie histories, tragedies, comedies, and romances together in a coherent, if not neat, bundle. A minor criticism could be lodged against this American edition for stubbornly refusing to adapt to the idiom of its new audience: US college freshmen are likely to be nonplussed by references to `A-levels,` professional soccer, and British popular culture.
A strong, systematic, and ideologically unbiased introduction to Shakespeare, bound to deepen any reader's appreciation for the great playwright, and particularly suited to prepare college freshmen for deeper reading of Elizabethan drama.
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").
Noted jazz and pop record producer Thiele offers a chatty autobiography. Aided by record-business colleague Golden, Thiele traces his career from his start as a ``pubescent, novice jazz record producer'' in the 1940s through the '50s, when he headed Coral, Dot, and Roulette Records, and the '60s, when he worked for ABC and ran the famous Impulse! jazz label. At Coral, Thiele championed the work of ``hillbilly'' singer Buddy Holly, although the only sessions he produced with Holly were marred by saccharine strings. The producer specialized in more mainstream popsters like the irrepressibly perky Teresa Brewer (who later became his fourth wife) and the bubble-machine muzak-meister Lawrence Welk. At Dot, Thiele was instrumental in recording Jack Kerouac's famous beat- generation ramblings to jazz accompaniment (recordings that Dot's president found ``pornographic''), while also overseeing a steady stream of pop hits. He then moved to the Mafia-controlled Roulette label, where he observed the ``silk-suited, pinky-ringed'' entourage who frequented the label's offices. Incredibly, however, Thiele remembers the famously hard-nosed Morris Levy, who ran the label and was eventually convicted of extortion, as ``one of the kindest, most warm-hearted, and classiest music men I have ever known.'' At ABC/Impulse!, Thiele oversaw the classic recordings of John Coltrane, although he is the first to admit that Coltrane essentially produced his own sessions. Like many producers of the day, Thiele participated in the ownership of publishing rights to some of the songs he recorded; he makes no apology for this practice, which he calls ``entirely appropriate and without any ethical conflicts.'' A pleasant, if not exactly riveting, memoir that will be of most interest to those with a thirst for cocktail-hour stories of the record biz. (25 halftones, not seen)