In twelve chapters, Walker touches on a dozen great mysteries of Western lore. He does not set out to solve any of them, but think again if you expect this book to do nothing but regurgitate old facts.
You may have heard of many of the stories in this book, since more than a few of them have been subjects of later books and documentaries. The "real" death of Davy Crockett, what happened at the Battle of Little Big Horn, and who is buried in Jesse James' tomb have all been covered on television, too, which lends credence to Walker's research. But what about some cases you learned about in school, and find out later things may not have happened the way your teacher said?
I am writing of the strange suicide of famed explorer Meriwether Lewis in Tennessee in 1809. All my life, I was told he killed himself, and that was that. Reading Lewis' book, we find he killed himself after being attacked by an unknown assailant. He was shot in the head (exposing his brain), and offed himself before anyone else could come back and finish the job...um, yeah.
You may know that writer Ambrose Bierce wandered into revolutionary Mexico, and was never seen alive again, but did you know Boston Corbett, the man who killed John Wilkes Booth, also vanished in the American heartland? Or Black Bart, the famed stagecoach robber, also disappeared somewhere on the west coast?
What about the strange two deaths of Lewis and Clark's guide, Sacajawea (or Sakakawea, as she is known in the Great Plains)? Or the Mountain Meadows Massacre, where Mormon Church militia members and local Native Americans wiped out close to one hundred and fifty members of a wagon train, all because of lies and rumors spread all over Utah?
Was Jesse James really shot in the 1880's? Did Billy the Kid really die in Arizona? Or did both men live into their nineties, getting to know each other in their new lives, and reluctantly coming out in the 1930's and 1940's? Okay, according to DNA testing, that is Jesse in his grave, lending little help to Brushy Bill Roberts' claims that he was Billy the Kid.
Living in North Dakota, I have always had an interest in Western history. George Custer left his house near present day Mandan and died in Montana. Lewis and Clark and Sakakawea spent winters here, also near Mandan, on their great trek west and back. Teddy Roosevelt, after his mother and wife died on the same day, came to ranch near Medora, claiming he never would have had the courage to become president if it was not for his trials and tribulations in North Dakota. His presidential library is currently being constructed.
Walker's book is interesting, even to laypeople who have a passing interest in American history. The twelve chapters are evenly paced and never dull. There is an immense bibliography at the back of the book. After a kind foreword by John Jakes, Walker plunges us into the "old days," writing expertly and with enough description to read like fine fiction.
Legends and Lies: Great Mysteries of the America West is a fantastic starting point if you want to start reading more about Western history. There is such a variety of true stories, you can pick and choose your subject and become an armchair expert like I thought I was, until this book opened my eyes and has led me to do more reading. A good book will do that to you.
Thursday, July 3, 2025
Book & Film Review: "How to Judge Motion Pictures, and How to Organize a Photoplay Club" by Sarah McLean Mullen/"Gent Video Centerfold #4: Stacey Owen" (1987)
You remember the scene, I know you do. In 1989's "Dead Poets Society," teacher John Keating (Robin Williams) is leading his new class in how to measure the enjoyment of a poem. The exercise involves graphs which students dutifully copied, and measurements strictly observed, when suddenly Keating insists that the students rip this section out of the textbook and toss it. Poetry cannot be measured like you would a temperature, or a quantity of liquid. It's inherent beauty comes from what it does to your head and your heart.
Well, while I was skulking around my alma mater's library, I was browsing in the film books section which was impressively diverse for a college with no film studies program at that point. Tucked among the larger books by James Agee, and old Halliwell's Film Guides, I found a 63-page pamphlet entitled "How to Judge Motion Pictures, and How to Organize a Photoplay Club" by Sarah McLean Mullen. The pamphlet trumpeted its foreword by a William L. Lewin and was published by Scholastic, a weekly newspaper for high school students. I sat down to read, and found the copyright date for this revised edition- 1936. Oh, this was going to be good.
While the yawny foreword talked of Lewin's nationwide research into using films for education, Mullen's material was the best part to digest. In the back of the pamphlet, I found what Mullen has called a "Scholastic Score Card For Rating Photoplays." Ten aspects of a judged film is rated on a weighted scale, the scores are totaled, and the total weighted score, after a little more math, gives you a percentile rating that tells you whether a film is good or not. As an audience, we all have expectations when seeing a photoplay, their irritating term for movies, and the Score Card slices through all the physical discomforts we experience at the theater, giving us a true indication of a film's worthiness.
The ten items judged are: Entertainment Value, Basic Theme, Story, Title, Dramatic Plot Structure, Social Value, Direction, Characterization, Settings-Costuming-Make-up-Properties, Lighting and Photography, and Sound and Musical Effects. Interestingly enough, the sample Score Card printed is for a real 1935 film featuring Henry Fonda called "I Dream Too Much." Someone named Syms C. Armstrong of the Burr High School Photoplay Club paid 35 cents to see this, and the film's final percentile score is 63-1/3%. Mullen warns us that very few ever pass the 90% mark, much less score a perfect 100 percentile. When I looked up "I Dreamed Too Much" on IMDB.com, only a few hundred people had seen it, but it's weighted average score was 5.5 out of 10. Apparently, Syms found more to like than today's jaded audiences.
So, which film should I test Mullen's hypothesis out on? Last year's Best Picture Oscar winner? A contemporary film from Frank Capra or John Ford? No, I'm going for a short film, so I can look back and forth between Mullen's ingredients for good photoplay-making, and the screen. Yes, I believe 1987's "Gent Video Centerfold #4: Stacey Owen" on VHS will do just fine. Don't judge me.
The video is just twenty-six minutes. For Entertainment Value, a big-busted Scottish lass waking up nekkid and going through her day before posing for a pretend photo shoot does have some Entertainment Value. On the +3 to -1 scale, I scored this a +1. The Basic Theme has no significance, so a -1. No Story, either, so we'll goose-egg that section. The Title onscreen is different from the video box, and none of them is listed on IMDB, so I score it a -1. While the Dramatic Plot Structure is stupid, there is some, so +1. Social Value? Um, yeah, zero. Direction gets a +1, Peter Kay does his job and shows off every aspect of Owen's physical talents. Characterization is supposed to include Acting and Speech. The film is narrated by Owen, and photographer James Campbell, but Owen doesn't do very well even playing herself, so another zero. The Settings, Costumes, Make-Up, and Properties are all consistent with a direct-to-video centerfold tape that served as an introduction for Owen to eventually move to more hardcore efforts, so a +2. Lighting and Photography were both blinding and bleached out, so another zero. The Sound and Musical Effects were horrendous. When Owen isn't pleading with you to look her up the next time you are in Scotland, some song I think was called "When a Woman's Alone" assaults your ears. Definitely, a -1. Now then, I multiply the scores by the weight, add the weighted scores, and then divide the total by three. According to the Sarah McLean Mullen Scholastic Score Card For Rating Photoplays, "Gent Video Centerfold #4: Stacey Owen" gets a pitiful 8.33%. Sorry, love.
The rest of the pamphlet covers how to start a photoplay club in high school, which involves complicated parliamentary procedures, and sexism- girls will appreciate the social aspects of the club, while boys will be more interested in how the film equipment runs. The main focus is Mullen's formula, and it was a hoot to read aged passages like "we are all familiar with climaxes. We have sat breathless during many of them, and have slumped back with a sense of deep relief when they were over," which had me laughing so hard, I did slump back.
I thought about following the inspiring civil disobedience of John Keating, and ripping this pamphlet to shreds, but this was the original 1936 copy. It is so old, I looked at the yellowed library card in back, and it was signed by a humanities professor who taught at the university so long ago, they died, and then had a building constructed and named for them. Oh, Syms, if you only knew what photoplays would be like in almost another one hundred years! Book: (* * *)/Video: (*) out of five stars.
Well, while I was skulking around my alma mater's library, I was browsing in the film books section which was impressively diverse for a college with no film studies program at that point. Tucked among the larger books by James Agee, and old Halliwell's Film Guides, I found a 63-page pamphlet entitled "How to Judge Motion Pictures, and How to Organize a Photoplay Club" by Sarah McLean Mullen. The pamphlet trumpeted its foreword by a William L. Lewin and was published by Scholastic, a weekly newspaper for high school students. I sat down to read, and found the copyright date for this revised edition- 1936. Oh, this was going to be good.
While the yawny foreword talked of Lewin's nationwide research into using films for education, Mullen's material was the best part to digest. In the back of the pamphlet, I found what Mullen has called a "Scholastic Score Card For Rating Photoplays." Ten aspects of a judged film is rated on a weighted scale, the scores are totaled, and the total weighted score, after a little more math, gives you a percentile rating that tells you whether a film is good or not. As an audience, we all have expectations when seeing a photoplay, their irritating term for movies, and the Score Card slices through all the physical discomforts we experience at the theater, giving us a true indication of a film's worthiness.
The ten items judged are: Entertainment Value, Basic Theme, Story, Title, Dramatic Plot Structure, Social Value, Direction, Characterization, Settings-Costuming-Make-up-Properties, Lighting and Photography, and Sound and Musical Effects. Interestingly enough, the sample Score Card printed is for a real 1935 film featuring Henry Fonda called "I Dream Too Much." Someone named Syms C. Armstrong of the Burr High School Photoplay Club paid 35 cents to see this, and the film's final percentile score is 63-1/3%. Mullen warns us that very few ever pass the 90% mark, much less score a perfect 100 percentile. When I looked up "I Dreamed Too Much" on IMDB.com, only a few hundred people had seen it, but it's weighted average score was 5.5 out of 10. Apparently, Syms found more to like than today's jaded audiences.
So, which film should I test Mullen's hypothesis out on? Last year's Best Picture Oscar winner? A contemporary film from Frank Capra or John Ford? No, I'm going for a short film, so I can look back and forth between Mullen's ingredients for good photoplay-making, and the screen. Yes, I believe 1987's "Gent Video Centerfold #4: Stacey Owen" on VHS will do just fine. Don't judge me.
The video is just twenty-six minutes. For Entertainment Value, a big-busted Scottish lass waking up nekkid and going through her day before posing for a pretend photo shoot does have some Entertainment Value. On the +3 to -1 scale, I scored this a +1. The Basic Theme has no significance, so a -1. No Story, either, so we'll goose-egg that section. The Title onscreen is different from the video box, and none of them is listed on IMDB, so I score it a -1. While the Dramatic Plot Structure is stupid, there is some, so +1. Social Value? Um, yeah, zero. Direction gets a +1, Peter Kay does his job and shows off every aspect of Owen's physical talents. Characterization is supposed to include Acting and Speech. The film is narrated by Owen, and photographer James Campbell, but Owen doesn't do very well even playing herself, so another zero. The Settings, Costumes, Make-Up, and Properties are all consistent with a direct-to-video centerfold tape that served as an introduction for Owen to eventually move to more hardcore efforts, so a +2. Lighting and Photography were both blinding and bleached out, so another zero. The Sound and Musical Effects were horrendous. When Owen isn't pleading with you to look her up the next time you are in Scotland, some song I think was called "When a Woman's Alone" assaults your ears. Definitely, a -1. Now then, I multiply the scores by the weight, add the weighted scores, and then divide the total by three. According to the Sarah McLean Mullen Scholastic Score Card For Rating Photoplays, "Gent Video Centerfold #4: Stacey Owen" gets a pitiful 8.33%. Sorry, love.
The rest of the pamphlet covers how to start a photoplay club in high school, which involves complicated parliamentary procedures, and sexism- girls will appreciate the social aspects of the club, while boys will be more interested in how the film equipment runs. The main focus is Mullen's formula, and it was a hoot to read aged passages like "we are all familiar with climaxes. We have sat breathless during many of them, and have slumped back with a sense of deep relief when they were over," which had me laughing so hard, I did slump back.
I thought about following the inspiring civil disobedience of John Keating, and ripping this pamphlet to shreds, but this was the original 1936 copy. It is so old, I looked at the yellowed library card in back, and it was signed by a humanities professor who taught at the university so long ago, they died, and then had a building constructed and named for them. Oh, Syms, if you only knew what photoplays would be like in almost another one hundred years! Book: (* * *)/Video: (*) out of five stars.
Book Review: "Gothic: Four Hundred Years of Excess, Horror, Evil, and Ruin" by Richard Davenport-Hines
Subtitled "Four Hundred Years of Excess, Horror, Evil, and Ruin," this book is not what you should buy for your weird teen Goth nephew who wears a nose ring, black fingernail polish, listens to Marilyn Manson, and hangs out at the food court in the mall. Davenport-Hines' book is strictly a historic work, tracing Gothicism from the Middle Ages to today. While most of the book is interesting, the field is so big that the author can only bring surface examples to light without analyzing them too deeply. He has a section on the music of the Cure, and the literature of Poppy Z. Brite, but chose not to, or just could not, interview either one of them.
The author's biggest mistake is the amount of pages spent on Gothic architecture. The first half of the book is full of castle names, earls and dukes, and is of little interest to those who want to read about the Gothic lifestyle. The author does deconstruct the literature of Edgar Allan Poe and Nathaniel Hawthorne rather well, in addition to a myriad of British authors whose names I am not familiar with, but might be interested in now. His coverage of Gothic art is average. The book includes photographs of many pieces of art, but the author must resign himself to describing pieces he could not include in the pictures, leading to reader frustration. I do slightly recommend this book, but do not be fooled by its dark cover. This covers four hundred years of Gothic HISTORY (despite the cover and marketing), not four hundred years of your Emo nephew hanging out at the mall and listening to Marilyn Manson, who is not covered here.
The author's biggest mistake is the amount of pages spent on Gothic architecture. The first half of the book is full of castle names, earls and dukes, and is of little interest to those who want to read about the Gothic lifestyle. The author does deconstruct the literature of Edgar Allan Poe and Nathaniel Hawthorne rather well, in addition to a myriad of British authors whose names I am not familiar with, but might be interested in now. His coverage of Gothic art is average. The book includes photographs of many pieces of art, but the author must resign himself to describing pieces he could not include in the pictures, leading to reader frustration. I do slightly recommend this book, but do not be fooled by its dark cover. This covers four hundred years of Gothic HISTORY (despite the cover and marketing), not four hundred years of your Emo nephew hanging out at the mall and listening to Marilyn Manson, who is not covered here.
Book Review: "Sons..." by Helen Exley
"Sons..." is one of those innocuous little books, the size of your cell phone, you would find at a pharmacy or hospital gift shop that you could buy for that special someone whose birthday you had forgotten.
The little book features nostalgic artwork of little boys, and quotations from famous writers and celebrities as diverse as Plato, Charles Dickens, and Suzanne Somers; Dickens' and Somers' quotes appear on the same page. The champion of the quote quota is Pamela Gray, who gets more credits than anyone else. One bittersweet quote is from persona non grata Bill Cosby, talking about his only son Ennis, who was murdered a year after this little book was released.
There are dozens, if not hundreds, of these little gift books all over the country, usually found at grandmothers' homes, and estate or rummage sales (where I found this one in a box of physical media I purchased). Coming in at sixty-four pages, it can be read in one sitting in just a few minutes. The quotes are all fine, some are a little bland with no context, and the best quote by far is from Erma Bombeck. Trust me, I've read worse books, you can always use this to boost your "Books Read" count online. Middling book, middling reaction.
The little book features nostalgic artwork of little boys, and quotations from famous writers and celebrities as diverse as Plato, Charles Dickens, and Suzanne Somers; Dickens' and Somers' quotes appear on the same page. The champion of the quote quota is Pamela Gray, who gets more credits than anyone else. One bittersweet quote is from persona non grata Bill Cosby, talking about his only son Ennis, who was murdered a year after this little book was released.
There are dozens, if not hundreds, of these little gift books all over the country, usually found at grandmothers' homes, and estate or rummage sales (where I found this one in a box of physical media I purchased). Coming in at sixty-four pages, it can be read in one sitting in just a few minutes. The quotes are all fine, some are a little bland with no context, and the best quote by far is from Erma Bombeck. Trust me, I've read worse books, you can always use this to boost your "Books Read" count online. Middling book, middling reaction.
Book Review: "Guide to Home Videos and Movies" by Ryan Reed
Video and film guides are nothing new. I remember picking up Leonard Maltin's thick paperback way back in elementary school, before internet and IMDB. Roger Ebert and Pauline Kael, among many others, released books of review collections. Back in the video explosion of the 1980's and 1990's, everyone seemed to be releasing guides- from the Videohound to the Phantom of the Movies.
A small publishing house called Santa Monica Press decided to put their fingers in the pie. I have seen their product before in thrift shops. Their guides are cheap paperbacks, filled with vague film descriptions, questionable opinions, and more misspellings than a third grade class' grammar pop quiz. I once found two of their video guides, with different covers, titles, and authors, yet opened them up and discovered the reviews were identical, word for word. It was with some trepidation that I plopped down a quarter for Ryan Reed's 1993 "Guide to Home Video and Movies," knowing what I did about the Press. It did not disappoint.
I actually am not sure what the title of the book is. The cover and spine read "Guide to Home Video and Movies," but the introduction refers to the tome as "Guide to Home Video Movies," without the 'and.' Reed, or whoever wrote this, uses a four star rating system...but hold on, one star does not necessarily mean the film is bad. Reed writes that even a two-star film has merit, but not enough "artistry" to render a three or four star rating. Already, the ratings are on shaky ground, but Reed is confident enough to call his 128 page book the "ultimate guide to the most popular and critically acclaimed films available..." so he must know what he is talking about. By the way, Reed's name is printed in a different font at the bottom of the introduction, making me wonder how long the publishers waited before coming up with the name "Ryan Reed."
Right away, I found misspellings. In the first review, for "Adam's Rib," Katharine Hepburn's first name is misspelled. Turn the page and find out how good John "Houston's" direction was in "The African Queen." I read this whole book in one sitting, and found at least one mistake every two pages. The reviews themselves may have been written years after the films were seen. The reviews are one paragraph, but padded with Oscar winning stats- come on, only four sentences on "2001: A Space Odyssey"? The choice of films is bizarre. "Aliens" is here, but not "Alien." In the review for "Back to the Future," Reed writes "...the first installment of one of the most successful film series of all time..." but neglects the two sequels. Factually, Reed or whoever, gets a lot wrong. Michael Douglas was not nominated for an Oscar for "Fatal Attraction," and saying Susan Sarandon makes a "remarkable major film debut" in "Atlantic City," ignores her previous work in such little pictures as "Joe," "Pretty Baby," "The Other Side of Midnight," "The Great Waldo Pepper," and "The Rocky Horror Picture Show."
Ending with "Zorba the Greek," I did not come away with any sort of individual tastes from Mr. Reed. He either writes grandiose statements about films, or semi-trashes them (in the case of "Pretty Woman," rightfully so) with the reader unable to take his opinions seriously. "Guide to Home Video and Movies" is lousy, try any other critic instead.
A small publishing house called Santa Monica Press decided to put their fingers in the pie. I have seen their product before in thrift shops. Their guides are cheap paperbacks, filled with vague film descriptions, questionable opinions, and more misspellings than a third grade class' grammar pop quiz. I once found two of their video guides, with different covers, titles, and authors, yet opened them up and discovered the reviews were identical, word for word. It was with some trepidation that I plopped down a quarter for Ryan Reed's 1993 "Guide to Home Video and Movies," knowing what I did about the Press. It did not disappoint.
I actually am not sure what the title of the book is. The cover and spine read "Guide to Home Video and Movies," but the introduction refers to the tome as "Guide to Home Video Movies," without the 'and.' Reed, or whoever wrote this, uses a four star rating system...but hold on, one star does not necessarily mean the film is bad. Reed writes that even a two-star film has merit, but not enough "artistry" to render a three or four star rating. Already, the ratings are on shaky ground, but Reed is confident enough to call his 128 page book the "ultimate guide to the most popular and critically acclaimed films available..." so he must know what he is talking about. By the way, Reed's name is printed in a different font at the bottom of the introduction, making me wonder how long the publishers waited before coming up with the name "Ryan Reed."
Right away, I found misspellings. In the first review, for "Adam's Rib," Katharine Hepburn's first name is misspelled. Turn the page and find out how good John "Houston's" direction was in "The African Queen." I read this whole book in one sitting, and found at least one mistake every two pages. The reviews themselves may have been written years after the films were seen. The reviews are one paragraph, but padded with Oscar winning stats- come on, only four sentences on "2001: A Space Odyssey"? The choice of films is bizarre. "Aliens" is here, but not "Alien." In the review for "Back to the Future," Reed writes "...the first installment of one of the most successful film series of all time..." but neglects the two sequels. Factually, Reed or whoever, gets a lot wrong. Michael Douglas was not nominated for an Oscar for "Fatal Attraction," and saying Susan Sarandon makes a "remarkable major film debut" in "Atlantic City," ignores her previous work in such little pictures as "Joe," "Pretty Baby," "The Other Side of Midnight," "The Great Waldo Pepper," and "The Rocky Horror Picture Show."
Ending with "Zorba the Greek," I did not come away with any sort of individual tastes from Mr. Reed. He either writes grandiose statements about films, or semi-trashes them (in the case of "Pretty Woman," rightfully so) with the reader unable to take his opinions seriously. "Guide to Home Video and Movies" is lousy, try any other critic instead.
Book Review: "Edward Albee: A Singular Journey" by Mel Gussow
The late Edward Albee, the author of "Who's Afraid of Virginia Woolf?," and other plays, is given a deluxe biographical treatment here from a man who has known him for almost forty years- and sometimes worships him a little too much. Albee was adopted by a wealthy, emotionless set of parents. His father, Reed, was absent, and his mother, Frankie, was cool and detached. This upbringing, where he was seen more as a possession than a family member, would, of course, affect his writings. Constantly kicked out of schools, and never graduating from college, Albee turned to writing, his first success being "Zoo Story."
"Zoo Story," a short play about a fateful meeting of two men in a park, received mixed notices from assorted playwrights and critics. Here, biographer Gussow overextends his protection of his subject too much. He dismisses the honest critiques of two playwriting giants- Thornton Wilder and William Inge, because they did not understand or like Albee's works. However, a bland positive response by Samuel Beckett is treated like a Dead Sea Scroll, to be picked apart and treasured. I have read "Zoo Story," and it is wordy and preachy. Albee's next big success was "Who's Afraid of Virginia Woolf?," which was turned into the powerhouse film by Mike Nichols. Again, Gussow is flagrant in his criticism of someone involved with the film in order to placate Albee and Nichols. The film's screenwriter, Ernest Lehman, is harshly criticized for opening the play slightly, yet just copying Albee's words. The bio's author, and Albee, make a point of needling Lehman's screenwriting credit on the film. Mike Nichols' former partner, Elaine May, copied the French film "La Cage Aux Folles" word for word, adding what could be described as copious scenes at best, then took a big giant screenwriting credit for Nichols' "The Birdcage." Watch both of those films back to back sometime, it is eye opening.
Gussow also fumbles in his outline of Albee's life. In Albee's less successful years, he is writing weird experimental plays with subjects like a man with three arms, and one play where two of the characters are sea creatures. After mounting all of these failures, Albee is defended endlessly by Gussow, who suddenly contributes an entire chapter about Albee's alcoholism. The alcohol is both a reason his plays were not celebrated, and a defense of the brilliant man. The entire beginning of the book chronicles the complete lack of love Albee's parents had for him, yet the death of Albee's father is glossed over and barely mentioned. I had to reread the sentence a few times, since no followup is made about Albee's reaction. A whole chapter is devoted to his mother's demise, and her revenge on her own son in her will. More is written about a frustrated musician who was one of Albee's former lovers and honest critics; this "A Star is Born" redux reads nicely. Gussow does do well in describing Albee's assorted forays into theater, as playwright and director. Dirt about Donald Sutherland and Frank Langella is dished. The bio's author is honest in Albee's lacking skills as a director, coming to the theater as a playwright and not an actor.
Albee, who preferred to be called a writer who is gay, as opposed to a gay writer, also has kind words for his longtime partner of over twenty years. Albee says a gay writer writes about being gay, whether the work is good or not is moot, since the writer knows the subject and is putting in the final word. A writer who is gay is not tied down to just homosexual topics, and is free to explore society without audiences looking for gay subtexts that do not exist. "Who's Afraid of Virginia Woolf?" is a searing look at two heterosexual couples, the sexuality of the playwright is not essential in light of his characters and their actions. Gussow wisely keeps talk of Albee's lesser known plays, and the ones readers probably have not read anyway, to a minimum. Albee's triumphant comeback play, "Three Tall Women," is covered extensively. The play is about his mother, and so much more. Reading this biography will make you curious to seek out some of Albee's other plays, just to see what makes him tick. He was definitely an interesting man, and Gussow does catch that fact better than anything. I recommend this book to theater lovers, and any writer who needs a little inspiration.
"Zoo Story," a short play about a fateful meeting of two men in a park, received mixed notices from assorted playwrights and critics. Here, biographer Gussow overextends his protection of his subject too much. He dismisses the honest critiques of two playwriting giants- Thornton Wilder and William Inge, because they did not understand or like Albee's works. However, a bland positive response by Samuel Beckett is treated like a Dead Sea Scroll, to be picked apart and treasured. I have read "Zoo Story," and it is wordy and preachy. Albee's next big success was "Who's Afraid of Virginia Woolf?," which was turned into the powerhouse film by Mike Nichols. Again, Gussow is flagrant in his criticism of someone involved with the film in order to placate Albee and Nichols. The film's screenwriter, Ernest Lehman, is harshly criticized for opening the play slightly, yet just copying Albee's words. The bio's author, and Albee, make a point of needling Lehman's screenwriting credit on the film. Mike Nichols' former partner, Elaine May, copied the French film "La Cage Aux Folles" word for word, adding what could be described as copious scenes at best, then took a big giant screenwriting credit for Nichols' "The Birdcage." Watch both of those films back to back sometime, it is eye opening.
Gussow also fumbles in his outline of Albee's life. In Albee's less successful years, he is writing weird experimental plays with subjects like a man with three arms, and one play where two of the characters are sea creatures. After mounting all of these failures, Albee is defended endlessly by Gussow, who suddenly contributes an entire chapter about Albee's alcoholism. The alcohol is both a reason his plays were not celebrated, and a defense of the brilliant man. The entire beginning of the book chronicles the complete lack of love Albee's parents had for him, yet the death of Albee's father is glossed over and barely mentioned. I had to reread the sentence a few times, since no followup is made about Albee's reaction. A whole chapter is devoted to his mother's demise, and her revenge on her own son in her will. More is written about a frustrated musician who was one of Albee's former lovers and honest critics; this "A Star is Born" redux reads nicely. Gussow does do well in describing Albee's assorted forays into theater, as playwright and director. Dirt about Donald Sutherland and Frank Langella is dished. The bio's author is honest in Albee's lacking skills as a director, coming to the theater as a playwright and not an actor.
Albee, who preferred to be called a writer who is gay, as opposed to a gay writer, also has kind words for his longtime partner of over twenty years. Albee says a gay writer writes about being gay, whether the work is good or not is moot, since the writer knows the subject and is putting in the final word. A writer who is gay is not tied down to just homosexual topics, and is free to explore society without audiences looking for gay subtexts that do not exist. "Who's Afraid of Virginia Woolf?" is a searing look at two heterosexual couples, the sexuality of the playwright is not essential in light of his characters and their actions. Gussow wisely keeps talk of Albee's lesser known plays, and the ones readers probably have not read anyway, to a minimum. Albee's triumphant comeback play, "Three Tall Women," is covered extensively. The play is about his mother, and so much more. Reading this biography will make you curious to seek out some of Albee's other plays, just to see what makes him tick. He was definitely an interesting man, and Gussow does catch that fact better than anything. I recommend this book to theater lovers, and any writer who needs a little inspiration.
Book Review: "Turn Back the Night" by Jennifer Drew
Jennifer Drew is the pen name for a mother-daughter writing team. This is a relief, since I cannot imagine just one person could come up with a romance novel this unromantic. I got this paperback in a box of books I bought from a local recycling center. It mentioned a ghost hunter on the back, so I figured this might be a cut above some of the pulp Harlequin/Silhouette is known to publish. I was wrong.
Dawn is a Chicago resident who goes to visit her sister Laura in the boonies of rural Wisconsin. Dawn is an antiques mall manager and dealer, and her business partner's name is Jane. Laura's husband Gary is away on business in Japan, leaving Laura in a large country farmhouse on her own. All of the aforementioned facts pelt the reader in the first two pages of exposition. Also staying at the house is a psychologist, Aaron. It seems Laura heard some strange noises one night, and immediately called Aaron to investigate the paranormal phenomenon. Dawn is immediately suspicious of Aaron's motives, but attracted to Aaron. Aaron is just trying to help Laura, but is attracted to Dawn. Laura is a worrywart, and doesn't have a clue. The following one hundred pages are an absolute waste of paper. Aaron investigates, Dawn is suspicious of everything, yet the two kiss and fall in love. The grand finale is scareless and predictable.
One of the many problems is that Aaron, Dawn, and Laura are the only characters for dozens of pages, and they are not interesting enough to read about. The authors also have an irritating way of switching points of view, even on the same page, so you are reading about Dawn's sexy summer outfit, her ability to bid well at auctions, and her thick brown facial hair- before realizing Dawn is now describing Aaron. Another annoyance: one character will ask a simple question like "do you really believe in ghosts?", and by the time the characters bombard the reader with their internal thoughts, everyone's clothing is described, vocal inflections are analyzed, and the two lovers make goo-goo eyes at each other, someone answers "I can't answer that question," and you must turn back the page to remind yourself what the original query was in the first place. "Turn Back the Night" is one hundred and eighty five pages of hot air. I had a relative who used to plow through this type of novel in a couple of hours, it took me three weeks to read this.
Dawn is a Chicago resident who goes to visit her sister Laura in the boonies of rural Wisconsin. Dawn is an antiques mall manager and dealer, and her business partner's name is Jane. Laura's husband Gary is away on business in Japan, leaving Laura in a large country farmhouse on her own. All of the aforementioned facts pelt the reader in the first two pages of exposition. Also staying at the house is a psychologist, Aaron. It seems Laura heard some strange noises one night, and immediately called Aaron to investigate the paranormal phenomenon. Dawn is immediately suspicious of Aaron's motives, but attracted to Aaron. Aaron is just trying to help Laura, but is attracted to Dawn. Laura is a worrywart, and doesn't have a clue. The following one hundred pages are an absolute waste of paper. Aaron investigates, Dawn is suspicious of everything, yet the two kiss and fall in love. The grand finale is scareless and predictable.
One of the many problems is that Aaron, Dawn, and Laura are the only characters for dozens of pages, and they are not interesting enough to read about. The authors also have an irritating way of switching points of view, even on the same page, so you are reading about Dawn's sexy summer outfit, her ability to bid well at auctions, and her thick brown facial hair- before realizing Dawn is now describing Aaron. Another annoyance: one character will ask a simple question like "do you really believe in ghosts?", and by the time the characters bombard the reader with their internal thoughts, everyone's clothing is described, vocal inflections are analyzed, and the two lovers make goo-goo eyes at each other, someone answers "I can't answer that question," and you must turn back the page to remind yourself what the original query was in the first place. "Turn Back the Night" is one hundred and eighty five pages of hot air. I had a relative who used to plow through this type of novel in a couple of hours, it took me three weeks to read this.
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