Really? That’s the one chapter I didn’t like! It makes me happy to know that it was properly appreciated by someone else.
Sending this time (in no special order) before I lose everything, so please excuse any inconsistency of format:
My Times–A Memoir of Dissent. John L. Hess, 2003. More inside than Gay Talese’s 1960’s book on the Times. Though the word “inbreeding” is never broached, there is that subtext. “The Times was never ‘the greatest newspaper in the world’, nor even very good, except, like the vicar’s egg, in spots.”
Brendan Behan’s New York, with illustrations by Paul Hogarth
The New Yorker 75th Anniversary Cartoon Collection, edited by Robert Mankoff,2005. Among the best of many great bargains I have found at the local used bookstore. $3, and it actually still contained the two CDs taped to the inside cover comprising just about everything else from the given period that did not make the printed version. My favorite of all, in the category of simple scenes, was a Lee Lorenz drawing of a baby chick just hatched, and mother hen (pointing out the eggshell shattered all about) saying “Now look what you’ve done!” Among more involved scenes, I liked one by Artist Forgotten (for the moment), that shows Satan, observing the vast panorama of dead souls engaged in all sorts of hellish labor and suffering, remarking to an assistant, “we really don’t do so badly when you stop and think that people are basically good”.
The Andy Warhol Diaries. The final set, covering 1976-1987. A guilty pleasure, partly because the book is so thick (thicker still after dropping it in the bath). Little to glean about his art or art in general, but plenty about the scene, the scenesters, and all his cab fares. “Why is Springsteen so big? He talks the dumb way. Like Sylvester Stallone.”
Malachy McCourt, Singing His Him Song. I’ve read four books now by the two McCourts, but not Angela’s Ashes. Anyway, Malachy seems to have had a pretty good time. My enjoyment of his slightly earlier “A Monk Swimming” was perhaps dampened by my certainty that it would end with his swearing off the bottle and living happily a long while after (spoiler–it doesn’t).
Bertrand Russell, Understanding History. A smart guy, but not overbearing about it.
On the Road with the Ramones, Monte Melnick and others.
Ok, this probably doesn’t really make the list, but there is this observation: “Johnny wasn’t necessarily an outright racist per se, but he was very pro-white”.
Sylvia Beach, Shakespeare and Company, 1956. Her years running her Paris bookstore.
Stephen Fry in America, 2008. There is also something to be said for outsider’s accounts. “I must brave the interior of the most tawdry and literally trumpery tower of them all…the Trump Taj Mahal. For taking the name of the priceless mausoleum of Agra, one of the beauties and wonders of the world, for that alone Donald Trump should be stripped naked and whipped with scorpions along the boardwalk. it is as if a giant toad has raped a butterfly.”
Dreamgirl, Mary Wilson. Poor Flo Ballard.
The Dead Beat, Marilyn Johnson, 2006. The lively world of obituary writers (that isn’t really the subtitle, I was just trying to be clever). I actually read this one immediately before I read John Hess’s memoir already mentioned. Hess spent some time in the New York Times obit department, during one of his doghouse periods.
I’m trying to grow out of sports memoirs, but I liked Boris Becker’s book. Also, Growing Up Brady by Barry Williams reveals there was trouble brewing long before Cousin Oliver arrived.
Most of the fiction I read was detective stuff, but I don’t recall many details. This is a skill one develops. Anyway, all well-known names, so I’m not keeping any big secrets.
Dishonorable mention:
A Man of Honor, Joseph Bonanno. “For the longest time…I opposed the writing of any book of my life, whether an autobiography or an authorized biography…I had seen what usually happened when such commercial writers wrote about men of my Tradition…The result was a cheap, trashy and sleazy book…I did not want the book of my life to appeal to voyeurs who crave reading about crime. I wanted my book to be read by normal people.” Sorry, Joe!
Inside the Third Reich, Albert Speer. “Seeing him again after an interval of ten weeks, I was for the first time in all the years I had known him struck by his overly broad nose and sallow color. I realized that his whole face was repulsive–the first sign that I was beginning to attain some perspective and see him with unbiased eyes.” Better late than never!
You would like this very engaging documentary: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=RVafxOpEReM
I got some great reading ideas in this thread, thanks! Here’s my list, in no particular order:
A Slight Trick of the Mind, Mitch Cullin. A Sherlock Holmes pastiche that really isn’t a pastiche at all, but rather a meditation on old age and regret. It’s a lovely book, but ultimately quite depressing (I really liked the movie, Mr. Holmes, too, and approved of the changes to the plot that tied things together better and provided a more upbeat ending).
Finding Franklin, Russell A. Potter. A discussion of the famous Franklin Arctic Expedition of 1845 and the recent rediscovery of Franklin’s ships Erebus and Terror. A great story, and just the beginning chapter of what will be one of the most incredible archaeological investigations of modern times.
The Whole Art of Detection, Lindsay Faye. More Sherlock Holmes pastiches, in the form of a short story collection. Faye’s stories are low-key and engrossing.
The Apache Wars, Paul Andrew Hutton. The most evenhanded treatment of this contentious era that I have read. And completely engrossing.
And Then There Were None, Agatha Christie. One of the best quick reads around, with Christie at her outrageously plotting best. Ten people are isolated on an island, and within a day all ten are dead. Who killed them?
What Men Call Treasure, David Schweidel & Robert Boswell. This is an account of the famous (well, famous in the southwest anyway) quest for the treasure supposedly hidden in caves at Victorio Peak, New Mexico. Most treasure-hunting literature unquestioningly reworks folklore, but this book exhibits a healthy skepticism on the subject and attempts to practice respectable journalism.
Magpie Murders, Anthony Horowitz. Two mysteries for the price of one! We get to read over the shoulder of an editor proofreading the manuscript for a murder novel set in the 1950s, and then, when the manuscript turns out to be missing its final chapter and the author is found dead under suspicious circumstances, we are happily diverted into that conundrum as well.
Leonardo da Vinci, Walter Isaacson. I never thought anyone could top Charles Nicholl’s 2005 biography of Leonardo, but this book comes very close.
Overture to Death, Ngaio Marsh. A quintessential English village murder mystery, with one of Marsh’s signature sensational murder methods: A pistol rigged inside a piano that shoots the player when one of the foot pedals is pressed. And it happens in front of an entire church congregation, to boot!
Son of the Morning Star, Evan Connell. One of the few books that I reread periodically (this was revisit number four, I think). It’s a biography of George Custer and an account of the Little Bighorn battle that transcends history writing and becomes great literature.