Bookshelf Tour #10

An extremely dog-eared section of my library. These books are rarely on the shelf since I dip into them so often.

— The mighty Joan Acocella, dance critic for The New Yorker, but also so much more. Her dance writing can’t be beat. I learn so much from her. But she’s also a wonderful literary critic, with a special insight into the writers caught between two World Wars, living in the shattered remnants of the Austro-Hungarian empire. (Her preface to the NY Review of Books edition of Stefan Zweig’s Beware of Pity is just one example). A collection of her writing – Twenty-eight Artists and Two Saints: Essays – has been indispensable to me. Dance is a world I know very little about, except for, you know, taking dance classes on occasion. I am not well-versed in that world. She helps me see, understand its history. She helps me see Margot Fonteyn, or Nureyev, or whoever, and can explain to me what makes them so special. She’s a marvelous writer.

— Where would I BE without the writing of Lester Bangs? Nobody like him. And I don’t say that about too many people. Psychotic Reactions and Carburetor Dung: The Work of a Legendary Critic: Rock’N’Roll as Literature and Literature as Rock ‘N’Roll is the collection to get. It’s got all of his most famous pieces: his increasing nervous breakdown about the Rolling Stones, his astonishing obituary for Elvis, his essay with the non-alarming title “James Taylor Marked for Death,” his various battles with Lou Reed. A masterful cuh-ray-zee writer. The next collection – Main Lines, Blood Feasts, and Bad Taste: A Lester Bangs Reader – is distinctly “lesser than”, although there is a lot of interest here too. I can’t get enough of his writing. Even the sloppier pieces have their golden nuggets of Lester-ish prose.

— A collection of essays by F. Scott Fitzgerald, called The Crack-Up – including, of course, the title essay, initially published in 3 parts in Esquire to great controversy. (I wrote a gigantic post about “The Crack-up” here.) I look at the date of that post and feel rather awestruck because I was in the midst of my own crack-up when I wrote it, and was less than a month away from getting diagnosed. How is that even possible? But this isn’t about me. This collection is indispensable. As indispensable as Fitzgerald’s novels, short stories. There are essays here I draw on constantly in my own writing, whether for relevant quotes or inspiration. There’s “Early Success,” something I’ve used often in my writing about Elvis, there’s his haunting elegy to the Jazz Age (written while the Jazz Age was still going on), the couple of portraits of his marriage (one about their peripatetic life, and one where they auction off all of their belongings – she shares the byline on that). There’s also a harrowing essay about insomnia which is practically the last word on the subject. This collection is not easy reading. It’s hard as hell.

— William Hazlitt’s On the Pleasure of Hating (a collection of essays, including the famous title essay). I wrote a bunch of posts about these essays – again, in January 2013 – these are lengthy articulate (if I do say so myself) essays – and the timing is just shocking to me. I was doing so poorly. I cried all day. Maybe writing these essays was an escape? I honestly don’t remember writing them. Hello, mania. AT ANY RATE. What an amazing writer and thinker. If you’re not familiar with him, I suggest giving him a try. I love his essay “The Fight” (wrote about it here) – boxing fans take note – but they’re all good. In “The Pleasures of Hating” his thesis is: Human beings will never stop hating because they love it so damn much. It’s a deeply pessimistic essay but filled with things worth considering.

— A Religious Orgy in Tennessee: A Reporter’s Account of the Scopes Monkey Trial is the collection of eviscerating dispatches H.L. Mencken wrote from his coverage of the Scopes Trial. Sometimes, reading his stuff, I think, “Okay. He’s probably the best writer who ever wrote.” Shakespeare’s got nothin’ on this guy. I am totally exaggerating to make a point: I am so dazzled by his skill that at times he obliterates all other writers for me. Even when I VIOLENTLY disagree with him. He’s really fun to argue with although I get the sense he’d always win – not by being right, but by being more articulate. Here, though, his targets are know-nothings and religious fundamentalism – so here I am in violent agreement with him and I enjoy the lustrous rage with which he attacks these dangerous people. And there’s A Mencken Chrestomathy: His Own Selection of His Choicest Writing, which has so much good stuff too, including his outrageously sexist opinions – but let’s never forget, he holds men in contempt too. Even more so because he understands men’s bulllllshit. (All my posts about the Chrestomathy are here.) God, he was a glorious hater. He could also be unexpectedly tender (his essay on Rudolph Valentino, of all people – plus all of his wonderful essays on classical composers). If you care about good writing, you should study Mencken. I learn from him every day. Especially when I hesitate to criticize. Or yearn to soft-pedal contempt. Go for it. If you feel it, say it. But SAY IT WELL.

— Michael Herr’s Dispatches, his hallucinatory dispatches from Vietnam. I love this book but it’s actually not in the right section. I’m not a librarian’s daughter for nothing. It has since been moved to its proper place, in the first-person war-reportage section.

— And of course, A Collection of Essays by George Orwell. I go to it again and again. It sits by my bed. I carry it around. It’s not just a post-45 thing. Orwell helps me understand the world. Orwell helps me be brave. Orwell helps me tell the truth.