Genius & Heroin by Michael Largo

Michael Largo, general purveyor of death-related trivia, stays true to the form of previous works in his latest catalogue of the macabre, Genius and Heroin. The book consists of brief notes outlining the tragic downfalls of history's creative personalities (in rough alphabetical order) with tasty tidbits of information spread throughout. The title is a bit of a misnomer, however, as Largo tends to include individuals of a questionable degree of genius, and many who were merely mentally ill or died of natural causes.

While this is hardly a work of scholarship, the author is, on occasion, irritatingly casual with details. Largo refers to Nietzsche, the philosopher and philologist, as a psychologist (based on a Dostoevsky quote). While writing on an individual's addiction to chloral hydrate, one of the original hypnotic sedatives, he keeps referring to it as "chloral," which is a different compound. Frequently, information on an artist will be listed in great detail in another's entry, while that artist's own entry is pitifully short. This may be mere trivia, but it does not preclude the author from taking more care with facts.

The book is somewhat interesting overall. It might have been better served by a different organizing principle, such as listing the artists by their addictions (alcoholics, laudanum, heroin, etc.), but it serves for amusement. My recommendation is to read it with a martini in hand.

Note: I raise my glass in thanks to Harper Collins and LibraryThing for the opportunity to review this book!

The Uncommon Reader by Alan Bennett

When one learns of a novella based on the reigning monarch of the United Kingdom that is written by the creator of The Madness of King George and The History Boys, one is overcome with gleeful anticipation. These works deftly weave together humor and poignancy with skilled observation of English culture. Indeed, Alan Bennett delivers again with The Uncommon Reader.

Bennett carefully builds a representation of Queen Elizabeth II that is instantly recognizable to BBC or PBS viewers. She is punctual, fluent in French, a lover of Corgis and horse racing, an undisputed arbiter of proper British manners and a master in the art of small talk. One can almost hear her ask a visitor, "How far did you have to come?" Bennett takes this royal construct and envisions what might happen if the Queen met a mobile library and an enabling young kitchen worker on the palace grounds and developed a love of reading. The result, while a brief work, is a witty and multi-layered meditation on the joys of reading, divisions of class, and the personal life and role of the British Monarch.

Note: A royal thank you to Picador and LibraryThing for the opportunity to review this book!

Originally posted @ LibraryThing on January 10th, 2009.

Hollywood Bohemians by Brett L. Abrams

Brett L. Abrams' Hollywood Bohemians drew me as a reader with a fairly simple claim: the studio-era film industry used its social deviants (homosexuals, transvestites, adulterers, etc.) to depict and promote the image of Hollywood as a place of glamour and sexual freedom. As a student of both films and GLBT history, this thesis intrigued me. Unfortunately, this book leans far more heavily towards the 'thesis' than the 'intrigue,' and that thesis is problematic.

The writing is wooden and formulaic in a manner that would make an excellent parody of academic theses were it not an actual academic thesis. In a typical section, Abrams excerpts a gossip column article or movie clip loaded with coded slang for gay men or lesbians, spends another paragraph or three dissecting the excerpt, and then spends another page expounding on the "titillation" this information would have provided for the general public. There is ample repetition from sentence to sentence, and the author appears overly fond of his coined term, 'Hollywood Bohemians'. A few well-placed conjunctions and pronouns might have reduced this book by 20 pages while making it more readable.

The structure of the book, with each chapter devoted to depictions of stars' lives in a different Hollywood setting, is a wreck. Abrams divides the settings into nightlife (restaurants & clubs), public & semi-public parties (premieres & awards shows), private parties, home life, and the studio backlot. This conceit's unwieldly compartmentalization fails in its sheer artifice, as if these "settings" were mutually exclusive categories. It also fails to capture any sort of historical narrative, which results in some literary gymnastics. Frequently when a new persona arises in connection with a star, the author is forced to deal with her in a later chapter to maintain the conceit rather than take the natural transition.

The inclusion of Hollywood-themed novels among the excerpted material was something I found irksome, particularly when Abrams used it as the primary evidence of his claims about Hollywood life. While one can certainly argue that the novels are reflective of the history, this seems more akin to arguing that Agatha Christie's Poirot novels are emblematic of early 20th century criminal science. Finding more information on the general public's reaction to some of these portrayals would have been more successful. Were members of the public indeed titillated, or did the author simply cull a large number of obscure news clippings that most Americans would not have seen?

Abrams brings to light some aspects of Hollywood's GLBT history that have largely fallen by the wayside and includes some choice archival photographs, all of which displays his skills as a researcher and archivist. The nearly 40 pages of references in the endnotes and bibliography provide copious paths for further research, whether by the academic or layperson. In the end, however, the writing style and lack of coherent structure leave me unable to recommend this work to others.

Thank you to McFarland Publishing for the opportunity to review this book.

Originally posted @ LibraryThing on January 9th, 2009.