— Over my vacation I finished Hilary Mantel’s novel A Place of Greater Safety
, which – wow, I can’t believe I’m saying this – I think I liked even more than Wolf Hall
. A Place of Greater Safety is her novel about three of the main characters of the French Revolution, Danton, Camille Desmoulins and Maximilien Robespierre. Pretty much everyone in the book (and there is a cast of literally thousands) is a person from real life. It is unbelievable, how she wove together the three strands of those three very different individuals (who, of course, all started out on the same side before, like “Saturn” they “devoured” one another). She humanizes them, certainly – and anyone who has read Wolf Hall and Bring Up the Bodies knows how good Mantel is with men in power, the struggles for power, the Machiavellian manueverings of those who strive for power. I think it’s ADORABLE that the critical establishment as well as the publishing industry continues to believe that women excel in “domestic” situations, romances, marriage, and that men write “bigger” novels. (Of course that is also assuming that men never write about home life or love in their novels. Really? John Irving? Jonathan Franzen? They don’t write about love? Okay. Guess it just LOOKS different when women do it. Right? Uh-huh.) Regardless: Don DeLillo, Mr. Great American Novel, hasn’t come close to achieving what Mantel achieved in A Place of Greater Safety, Wolf Hall, Bring Up the Bodies
. (I like some of Don DeLillo’s stuff, but we’re talking comparison here. His magnum opus, Underworld, isn’t NEAR the accomplishment of what Mantel has pulled off in no less than three books.) I am happy with almost a revengeful feeling that she won the Booker prize twice. GOOD. Stick it to ’em, Hilary. So of course, after finishing A Place of Greater Safety, I had to pull out Thomas Carlyle’s ponderous melodramatic history of the French Revolution, and lost myself in Googling like a maniac. And I came across the following: Hilary Mantel’s superb review of a book of essays about Robespierre. I know what I thought of of Robespierre, before I dug deeper. Some of my opinions still stand. He is the end-result of Rousseau’s theories (Rousseau was his main inspiration), but of course nobody could see that at the time, and still probably can’t. Well, Camille Desmoulins could, and threw it back in his face in their final meeting. Rousseau had written “Burning isn’t answering”, meaning: burning books is no answer. Robespierre had closed the major revolutionary newspaper. Desmoulins, a brilliant man, reminded Robespierre of Rousseau’s comment, which I imagine had to cut to the core. Robespierre is the natural result of pure idealism taken to its most extreme form. In other words: Run for the hills. This is my instinctive response to anyone who goes gaga over Utopias, the perfectability of man, visions of a perfect world, “Imagine all the people”, whatever. I’ve said before that if John Lennon’s song were the platform for a political candidate, I wouldn’t vote for said person. I am actually frightened of the Utopia pictured in that song. I hear a yearning for totalitarian control in most Utopian burblings. I’ve written about that before. I also highly recommend Hilary Mantel’s novel, which is very very long but I could not put it down. I TORE through that thing. If you want a taste of Mantel on Robespierre, before plunging in, read that article.
— Martin Scorsese’s beautiful essay “The Persisting Vision: Reading the Language of Cinema”. It’s very emotional, as well as informative.
— I finished Dream Boogie: The Triumph of Sam Cooke
, Peter Guralnick’s wonderful biography of Sam Cooke. I have such mixed feelings about Sam Cooke as a person (and no mixed feelings at all about him as an artist). I think he was a dick. But that voice, those songs. He sure had magic in him! Guralnick really lays it all out. He’s excellent, too, on the pioneering business model that Sam Cooke represented, for musicians as well as for the demographic of black musicians. He was turned on by producing others, you can tell. Guralnick talks about all of the law suits and wranglings with RCA and Columbia, etc., for Sam Cooke and his partner, J.W. Alexander, to gain ownership of the Sam Cooke catalogue, and it’s fascinating. The aftermath of his death is upsetting, the behavior of his wife, selling off his business for bargain-basement prices because … oh who the hell knows why. It’s a shame. Who knows what else he would have gone on to do. However, he wasn’t killed by racism, as his friends were theorizing – “they got him because he rose too high – nobody wants a black man to succeed… ” etc. All of these are understandable reactions, especially considering the powder-keg that was America at that time. Sam Cooke experienced racism, of course, especially in the Jim Crow South (the images of all of those gospel quartets traveling around with food in the car because they knew that if they got hungry they couldn’t just eat anywhere) – and he seemed to have internalized a lot of that rage and self-loathing. He compartmentalized aspects of himself, a survival technique. But he wasn’t killed in some conspiracy to “get” him because he was rising too high – he was killed because he picked up a prostitute (which, fine, no judgment – but it shows his lack of judgment at that point: he was getting to be too big a star to be behaving in this way. There are discreet call girls and then there are crazy hookers you pick up in a bar. If you’re a star, you had best know the difference.) and then he violently attacked a random woman who thought he would kill her so she shot him. I have zero doubt that Sam Cooke was very scary in that motel office. He wasn’t planning on killing that woman, but how the hell was she supposed to know that? She’s supposed to wait for him to get really REALLY REALLY scary before she defends herself? He threw people up against walls, he threw chairs when someone said “No” to him. This woman said “No, you can’t come in here” and it was like waving a red flag in front of a bull. He was completely indiscreet that night, completely drunk and out of his mind, and you need to be better at handling yourself in public with people you don’t know/trust if you want to be one of the biggest stars in the world. That’s not a racism thing, that’s reality. I understand why his family/friends couldn’t believe that that was how he died and assigned all kinds of conspiratorial meanings to it. But he hid a lot, he hid his violent nasty nature from everyone, although everyone knew he had such nastiness in him. You just read how that whole thing went down and you think, “Sam, my God, just STOP. You do not want to die right now, and you do not want to die like this.” The interviews with Bobby Womack often made me laugh out loud (he is very entertaining and expressive), and the anecdotes about touring England with Little Richard are HILARIOUS. Little Richard was out of his MIND!! What a showman. Sam’s determination to have his own label, create his own albums, have a roster of artists, is inspiring. It’s pioneering thinking. He also saw the future. His buddies were making fun of The Rolling Stones, and he knew they were going to be huge and “change the industry” – but that is just one example. He was far-seeing. Guralnick is, as always, excellent on breaking down the recording sessions, the developing takes, the way Sam worked, how he arranged things, how he came up with ideas. It makes you want to play the song in question and then re-read the paragraph about the recording of said song (which I did throughout my reading of the book). I have no problem with him being a dick, by the way. I didn’t particularly like hanging out with him throughout the book, and found some of the subsidiary characters (like his business partner, JW Alexander), far more sympathetic. His being a dick doesn’t take away from the music or his accomplishments. It was a ferocious time of upheaval. “Change was gonna come” … it was happening right then. The whole country was being a dick at that point. I can sense Guralnick’s dismay at some of the revelations he uncovered, because he loved Cooke’s music so much. I can separate the two. I listen to the music and lose myself, it’s such happy and yet bittersweet/nostalgic, the feeling he gives me. Fine, he beat up his wife and rejected his own son and was pretty shady with some of those who helped him out along the way. Once you were no longer of use to him, buh-bye. But Sam Cooke was an innovator, and a determined man, and was just starting to rise above the accepted narrative of successful black American life. He died in 1964. One can only imagine what he would have accomplished in the following tumultuous years and beyond. BUMMER.
Gonna listen to Sam’s jamming version of “Tennessee Waltz”, and get the bummer out of my system!
I’m going to have to pick up “A Place of Greater Safety” I *love* the French Revolution. If I end up liking it, I may have to recommend it to my students (I teach high school history.) What are your thoughts about the cult of Robespierre lovers? I figure this would be something that is right up your alley.
Liv – Wow, I would love to hear your reaction to A Place of Greater Safety. I will definitely read it again. GREAT historical novel and I normally do not like historical novels. But she’s got the gift.
I don’t know much about the Robespierre lovers – although I know they are out there (Mantel refers to them in the piece I linked to). Can you tell me more? I don’t think he got a bum deal from history – nothing like that – but I do think his image has been way over- simplified. The man was a total champion AGAINST capital punishment, and helping the poor, and all of this stuff – way more than the others were. He was radical in how progressive he was. But … you know, he felt he had to keep the Revolution united so, you know, he had everyone killed. He’s not viewed as a French hero, in the same way Danton is. I mean, how could he be?
I am not as well-versed in the French Revolution as I am in the American Revolution – although I certainly know the events, the main characters and how it all went down. So I would love to hear your thoughts on Mantel’s book. I am sure there were many arguments about it when it first came out.
It’s sooo good!
I’ll have to read that Guralnick book. But I suspect you’re right about Sam Cooke, another example of how sometimes great music comes from perfectly horrible people. (See, for instance, Richard Wagner or Ike Turner.)
Oh sure, of course. There’s nothing shocking about it – and in a way it makes it more interesting. Because his music is so happy, so innocent, almost – right? His “cha cha” song, the way he could tell a story, about dances and sweethearts, and twistin’ the night away, and really just capture a MOMENT – he was sooo good at that. But he didn’t LIVE it, if you get my meaning. So he was an amazing craftsman, an amazing hit-maker. He KNEW what people would want to sing along to, dance along to. The songs FEEL personal, and in many ways they are personal: he and his brother had an encounter with a chain gang in Georgia or South Carolina, and that’s where the song came from – a little girl during a dance at a party at his house shouted out, “Everybody loves to cha-cha” and Sam basically exited the party to his office and wrote his “cha cha” song on the spot. Fascinating. He was incredibly observant. He took care of his family. But in a lot of ways, he was a user – certainly of women, but also some of his colleagues/agents/managers. It’s understandable: he had a two-pronged approach. He wanted to own his own career – he wanted to be like Harry Belafonte … that was his goal. He also wanted to free himself from being an employee – he wanted to be in charge. And that really wasn’t “done” at the time, certainly not with black performers – although you can see it in Elvis’ trajectory as well. Elvis was not out on the road touring with a bunch of other acts, making it seem like he was one of many – the way so many of his friends were. Elvis was a solo act, almost immediately. The Colonel saw to that. He removed Elvis from the pack. And Sam wanted to remove himself from the pack. He hadn’t quite done that yet at the time of his death – but I have no doubt that it was coming.
It’s just such a bummer, isn’t it?
Dude, stop behaving like a lunatic – that woman is going to SHOOT you and you still have so much to do!!
A lot of this I didn’t know until my teens, when Allen Klein suddenly took over Beatles management, and I discovered that he’d been even more tenacious on behalf of Sam.
And “Wonderful World” is still as close as I get to a theme song, even though I do know what a slide rule is for. (I still have one, in fact.)
Yes, the whole Allen Klein story is absolutely fascinating.
It’s amazing what he was able to accomplish for Sam – especially since he didn’t really start out in the music business.
Ahhh, “Wonderful World”. So so beautiful.
I have the scorcese essay sitting on my weekend article pile. You have totally sold me on the Hilary Mantel. She is a crack-writer so I can’t wait (after the dissertation).
Of course, after the dissertation. :)
Can’t wait to talk about it with you. She is just so good. She made me re-think Robespierre – or at least get some nuance into the conversation – same with Desmoulins. Antoine Saint Just always frightened me (he strikes me as similar to the third/fourth wave of revolutionaries under Stalin – the true BRUTES who were the last ones standing – heartless) – and he scares me even more so now.
What a shitstorm that Revolution was. Amazing book!
Oh God, sorry, I have to write again! I had no idea that Sam Cooke was such a dick! haha! I always assumed because of his voice and those songs he was a near saint that got knocked of by some crazed prostitute. I had some idea he was a wild child, but not that, it’s fascinating, and also it doesn’t change the way I feel about Sam Cooke, but I had to listen to that Tennessee Waltz again too. I’m getting that book!
Never apologize for commenting!! :)
Some more thoughts:
He was pretty horrible to his wife (his childhood sweetheart). They clearly were connected in a pretty strong way to even get married – he clearly had zero interest in being married. But he seemed to like the image it would provide him. She sounds pretty … out there, in my opinion. Smoked dope all day long and wasn’t the wife he wanted – maybe he wanted someone more presentable. She was not educated, she was desperate, she would hang out with his band members and he would FLIP. OUT. He seemed to despise her, honestly. It’s hard to say because Cooke held his cards close to his chest. I don’t “judge” him for cheating on her or anything like that – I honestly don’t care – but his behavior to her was vicious and violent, and he refused to acknowledge his own son (he thought Barbara had cheated on him) – and then the poor baby drowned in the pool … which … I can’t even imagine the horror and guilt Cooke must have felt about that.
He also impregnated women left and right, and was constantly being sued/arrested/pulled from backstage areas to go to court and take paternity tests. He used women. He seemed harassed by them, but, dude, that child is yours, even though it came from a one night stand – use a condom or pay up. I think he had something like 10 illegitimate children, two he had to be dragged to court to pay for. Kind of ugly. These stories made the news at the time.
Unlike, say, Elvis – who was extremely private (never gave interviews, etc.) but who also opened up his feelings/heart/deep emotions to his friends/girlfriends/one-night-stands/anyone-he-ever-met – (which we then get to read about in biographies and put together a fuller picture) – Sam Cooke didn’t seem to confide in anyone. People who met him describe how “smooth” he was, how “cool” he was, which sounds like an act. A really really good act. Nothing unusual in that, he was a public figure. But he remains somewhat of a mystery. We can most clearly see him in his business dealings, where there is a paper trail. And there, we can see his innovation and his brilliance, how FIERCE he was about being his own boss. Totally ahead of his time.
I think working, as he was, in the early 60s, as the civil rights movement was heating up – and making a stand for equality (he would refuse to play shows where the audience would be segregated) – I think he was determined to present a perfect image in order to get the white audience on his side – nothing too wild, too rough – but then there was this whole dark side, that wasn’t at ALL integrated. I don’t know – he had a split personality. I think, like I said, a lot of that is a result of the racism of the time. You HAD to compartmentalize yourself. You HAD to bite back your true feelings about white people, because you needed them to buy your records. Guralnick is great on talking about the other black artists at the time, and how they either got on board with MLK, or kept silent – many of them so feared loss of income from whites who would stop buying their records if they became activists.
In light of all of this, Sam Cooke’s smouldering rage, and his determination to be master of his own domain, is totally understandable. He was NOT going to take shit from people.
But still. Many of his friends, all good people, were concerned about his behavior, and how he hung around with lowlifes who always had their hand in his pocket. They worried about him.
I think that compartmentalization thing that was a survival technique kept him totally isolated – which is why so many people who knew him could not believe that that was how he died. Because he seemed so smooth, so in control, so “together”.
Anyway. Wonderful book and really informative. I loved the section about his friendship with Cassius Clay and Malcolm X which really break down the issues surrounding the civil rights movements/Nation of Islam/violence vs. non-violence at that time.
What fascinating and frightening times.
It is also very interesting to read about the reaction of the gospel crowd to Sam Cooke going pop. He was an inspiration to many others … but boy, there were those who never forgave him. And who saw his death as vindication of their beliefs. smh …
All I have to say is Sam Cooke was the greatest singer of all time! I ignore those who bash his legacy. He had a beautiful voice as well as a beautiful face! The man was just pretty. I will cherish his memories 4 Ever! He will always have a place in my heart. Rest in Peace Sam! You were loved!