Pop Culture Paper Ephemera
Although Fitzgerald's previous short story collection, All the Sad Young Men, is probably his strongest, Taps at Reveille is never boring and, in many ways, seems his most autobiographical. The range of the tales runs from a ghost story to a parable, but the basic thrust of the book is the theme of squandered opportunities and middle-aged spousal infidelity. Exemplified by "Babylon Revisited", one his most famous shorts, Reveille has many tales of bored, confused, drunk or down and out Americans set, or trapped, in Europe. The amazing number of short stories Fitzgerald wrote at the time, most of which he hoped to sell to the Post, were necessary to pay Zelda Fitzgerald's medical bills; F. Scott, himself, was struggling with health issues and his books were, unfortunately, not selling well.
The stories in Taps at Reveille, though largely written for a wide audience, are filled with beautiful prose; only occasionally does it step over the line into floridity (and, sadly, casual racism in spots). I'm very much looking forward to reading the Basil and Josephine Cambridge edition.
The title, Shy, is also ironic as Mary Rodgers was anything but (it's the name of one of the songs from her biggest hit, still being performed: Once Upon a Mattress). The first and most powerful impact of the book that hits the reader is Mary's clear voice, defiant and smart, self-deprecating, opinionated and honest with a devil-may-care attitude. The narrative is made even more interesting by Jesse Green's annotated asides, giving background information on composers, actors, agents and a multitude of others Rodgers alludes to and critiques in this memoir.
Growing up in the shadow of Richard Rodgers' monumental career, Mary was slow to exhibit talent as a composer but grew up with an enviable coterie of mid-century musical theater talent, including Hal Prince, Arthur Laurents and, especially, Stephen Sondheim (Stephen being tutored by Oscar Hammerstein at a young age), who remained the love of Mary's life. The platonic year they lived together in a facsimile of marriage will be a surprise to those who first read about it here.
Soldering on through the death of a child and a physically and emotionally abusive first marriage, Mary had an amazing and multi-faceted career which included writing children's music for Little Golden Records and Captain Kangaroo, contributing to The Mad Show on Broadway and Marlo Thomas' Free to Be... You and Me., writing a series of children's books (including Freaky Friday, still being adapted today), and a writer of longstanding of Leonard Bernstein’s Young People’s Concerts.
Shy is addictively readable and catnip for those interested in the golden age of musical theater.
Nearly one 150 years after The Portrait of a Lady was published, it seems superfluous to review it or summarize it. It is, in short, one of the great American novels, with a formidable style and scope with fascinating characters - not the least of which is the protagonist, the contradictory, contrary, bright and willful Isabel Archer, a woman exceedingly intelligent in some ways, stunningly naive in others.
Considering how long ago the novel was published, I'm surprised at the lack of recent criticism and discussion of it readily available; the story is, in many ways, still relevant. The Penguin edition I read contained only one essay (which seemed as much interested in where it was written and James' influences than the work itself). A Norton edition had some recent essays, but none more recent than 34 years ago.
Although the work is addictively readable (even suspenseful, in its slow-moving way) and was James' most mature large work to date, there are aspects I found less than satisfying. James too often employs monologues which leave no room for dialogue (even when the person being talked to would have - and did - interject); he, also, too often tells, from his omniscient viewpoint, instead of showing. Even the lauded Chapter 42, wherein Isabel contemplates by a fire the state of her life, while noteworthy at the time for its sustained and in-depth psychological treatment, shies away from specific examples for generalities, feelings and metaphors. In fact, I find that James shied away from too much in writing the novel. The mid-book skip ahead of three years does startle and build suspense but also seems like an easier way out than describing Isabel's first years of union. Key aspects of her life aren't dealt with at all, to the point of being (as they say in 2025) problematic; is it only a middle-aged male author who would ignore and downplay the main (female) character losing a 6-month-old child (briefly mentioned only twice in the book, and not by Isabel)? Was James too afraid of what he considered vulgar to present important information concerning the physical status of Gilbert and Isabel's relationship, information which would have a great bearing on Isabel's circumstances and actions? Henry Fielding's The History of Tom Jones was published 130 years earlier and it had no such inhibitions.
Even so, The Portrait of a Lady is endlessly fascinating and memorable. I was sorry to see it end. I highly recommend reading the original 1881 text and not the revised and overwritten 1908 "New York Edition". Not only was the original written when the characters and concepts and intentions were fresh in James' mind, the later version frequently obfuscates and muddies while, ironically, attempting to make language clearer. The last line of the novel, in particular, suffers greatly from having been revised. In its original version, Henrietta Stackpole's advice to Casper Goodwood, "...just you wait." is both a ray of hope for Casper (and the reader) that Isabel isn't returning to a life with Gilbert and a pull-the-rug-out, ambiguously abrupt denouement to over 600 pages - similar to David Chase's equally surprising and abrupt - yet somehow satisfying - ending for his similarly longform The Sopranos. The 1908 version of the ending needlessly adds onto and, in effect, ruins the previous compact sleight of hand. Perfection is ruined and belabored.
Tarzan of the Apes also, alas, suffers from sexism and racism, with castaway Jane Porter's professorial father telling her "...not to worry her pretty little head" about a matter of importance and Porter's family servant, Esmeralda, spouting cliched "mammy" dialect. Porter's father and his assistant are themselves cliched, absent-minded, bickering, doddering "men of the mind", used for (attempted) comic effect.
With plans to read the complete Burroughs, I purchased the first volume of the recent Burroughs Authorized Library but was disappointed in the presentation and most likely won't invest in the rest. The surface of the hardbound book is a weird, rubbery texture unpleasant to the touch (couldn't the publisher charge a higher price for a nicer cloth-bound book?). Although many historical documents are helpfully included, the actual text of the novel is the 1969 rewritten version, with many differences altered from the original for what, presumably, used to be called political correctness. More importantly, nowhere does it state the Authorized Library, edited and published by Edgar Rice Burroughs, Inc., is using altered text. For this reason, I turned to, for the main text, the 1963 Ballantine paperback. This series featured covers painted by Richard M. Powers. The Authorized hardcover reproduces Powers' cover inside but doesn't credit the artist.
Much needed downtime is interrupted by a most dangerous threat. Members of the Akatsuki (of which Orochimaru is a member) arrive at the Sand Village to kidnap a reformed Gaara (Lord Kazekage). Sasori and Deidara are some of the most lethal and creepy antagonists yet, a threat Lady Tsunade, the Fifth Hokage, must respond to.
Twenty-eight volumes into the series, Kishimoto's storytelling remains at a high level, well-paced, inventive, suspenseful, with fabulous art and superlative characterization. It's a great start to the series' second half.
I believe the book does come with some prejudices and presumptions. For example, Ditko is described by Morrow as a "talented artist", disregarding the fact that Ditko was a writer for most of the last fifty years (at least), personally authoring his most important published work during that time. When pages from the Disney Legends program book are reproduced, no mention is made of Kirby being a writer (before, during or after his work at Marvel) - an outrageous designation that gets no pushback from Morrow. Little to no mention is made in Stuf' Said of the plethora of comics Kirby wrote before the Marvel age. Likewise, the same Disney book states that Lee "dreamed up an endless number of new characters and worlds", a boast that is demonstrably untrue. The best evidence to decide the verdict Morrow could have presented (but didn't) is Dr. Michael J. Vassallo's definitive essay detailing everything Lee wrote before he teamed up with Kirby (and Ditko): "Stan Lee (1922-2018) - The Timely Years". It's a damning document that makes clear Lee did not create the cosmic concepts Kirby had already been creating since the early '40s (if not earlier). https://timely-atlas-comics.blogspot.com/2018/12/stan-lee-1922-2018-timely-years.html
Lastly, the book's cover, with psychedelic Captain Victory art blown up out of context and covered with large digital fonts, is ugly. While conveying some of the anger expressed by Kirby, the cover could have looked more welcoming and it's noteworthy that nowhere is the book's designer listed.
Naruto Vol. 27, "Departure", is a respite between the story's Part 1 and Part 2 (volumes 28-72).Its downtime involves healing, camaraderie and renewed commitments. Understanding they have two and a half years before Orochimaru can completely claim Sasuke's body and soul, Naruto leaves to train with Jiraiya, while Sakura studies to be a mission medic under Tsunade's instruction.
Before Part 2 begins the series' time-jump, creator Masashi Kishimoto tells a flashback/side story: insight into Kakashi's past and the mysterious origin of his covered eye. If you're a fan of Kakashi (I am), this is essential reading.
In a brief preface, Kishimoto states that "...I don't think Naruto needs to be broken up into parts". Why did he, then? Was it editorial decree? I'd love to learn more about the inner workings of this series.
This is another excellent volume in the action-packed series. The epic fight between Naruto and Sasuke reaches a conclusion with both exhibiting powers never before displayed. With Naruto vowing his friendship and determination to bring Sasuke back to Konoha, he accesses powerful red chakra provided by his fox spirit, while Sasuke can only retaliate with forces which can threaten his own life. Kakashi, meanwhile, learns of Naruto's pursuit and tracks him down with the help of Pakkun. The volume ends with the various ninja healing in a hospital, with Shikamaru determined to make good on a mission he considers a failure.
The flashbacks are poignantly written, the artwork magnificently detailed and imaginative, the pacing and editing constructed for maximum suspense. I recommend this series.
For those looking for the specifics of each room's European sources, or what actresses visited when, the book, featuring many B&W photographs Murray shot, will satisfy. It's truly bizarre, though, for Murray to not mention that the ever-present actress Marion Davies was Hearst's mistress (common knowledge since at least the 1920s). The death of Hearst's dog Helen literally gets more space in the text than his wife, Millicent, who's mentioned in one sentence when she "visited" the castle.
The Golden Days of San Simeon was created partly to coincide with castle tours and partly to showcase Murray's photographs, but for a history of the residence which doesn't lie by omission, there are other books to explore.
Titan Books know how to do Kirby reprints right. Employing the formidable talents of Harry Mendryk for art restoration and colors, this whopping 319-page collection of crime stories looks great, printed on matte (not shiny) paper that's vibrant white, making the colors pop.
Collecting 34 prime comics stories, mostly from the '40s, the collection really delivers. Like his romance material from the same time period, these are prime Kirby written, penciled and likely inked tales, each one driven with drama and human interest, like mini, pre-code Warner Bros. films. (Kirby extracted his new last name from James Cagney, the premiere Warner Bros. embodiment of crime-entrenched hoodlum-hood at the time). Read one of these and you'll want to read them all; the staging, body language, dialogue, and artwork is second to none. If Kirby had passed away in 1950, before the Marvel universe and everything else he created, we'd still be reading these comics.
Laurence Bergreen's book, the fullest and most ambitious biography of James Agee's life, gives a balanced, well-researched and unsparing look at the short life of the novelist, poet, journalist, critic and screenwriter.
It's largely a tale of wasted, sporadic talent, practiced by a man nearly hell-bent on self-destruction (and the destruction of those around him) through his addiction to alcohol, undisciplined work methods and perpetual affairs with women who weren't his wife (or wives). His talent, even so, was so pronounced that, even with a premature death, he made a name for himself as one of the best and first important film critics (writing for two magazines simultaneously); the author of a masterpiece of poetic, investigative journalism (Let Us Now Praise Famous Men), the author of a classic, near perfect novel (A Death in the Family) and the author (or partial author) of two major screenplays (The African Queen and The Night of the Hunter), the latter of which has, over time, become accepted as a masterpiece of gothic Americana.
Bergreen's book is now thirty-seven years old. I have disappointments with its lack of completeness and context in places. (What were the sharecroppers' reactions to the book Agee wrote about them? What became of Agee's several children? Who became the executor of his estate after his death? What became of Louise Saunders, who Agee wrote to for decades? Did his wives write memoirs of their own?, etc.) A better Agee biography, though, isn't likely to happen in 2023 or in the future. For better or worse, this effort, alongside Agee's published work will continue to be the record historians refer to.