Southern Bookman

Farewell Alex Karras, with memories of George Plimpton and "Paper Lion"

I just happened to see a web page report that Detroit Lions and later TV star Alex Karras has died. I associate Karras, the Lions' all-pro defensive lineman in the1960s, with one of my best childhood reading experiences, George Plimpton's "Paper Lion."

My parents subscribed for a time to the Book of the Month Club, and one of the hardbacks that arrived in a form fitted cardboard box was Plimpton's account of trying out for quarterback with the Lions. The zany Karras, who took to playing made up comic Nazi characters to ward off training camp boredom, was a star of the book, one of the first hits in the emerging literary sports-book genre. I can still remember the book's dust jacket, with a photo of the shaggy-haired Plimpton in his Lions uniform, No. 0, as I recall. Plimpton discussed his humiliation at trying to play quarterback for the Lions, who good naturedly accepted him, finishing with an account of his actual appearance in an exhibition game. The book was one of the first "New Journalism" works I read and remains one of the best.

Karras later starred in the movie version of the book, launching him on his acting career highlighted by the TV show "Webster." In the show, he and his TV wife adopted a black kid. I have a few impressions of the show, including that I had a mini-crush on the woman who played his TV wife.

I also knew Karras from my father's subscription to Sports Illustrated; he along with the Packers' Paul Hornung was suspended for a year by NFL Commissioner Pete Rozelle for gambling ties. That was one of the big sports stories of the early '60s. I also recall Karras from another memorable childhood experience, watching on Thanksgiving Day as the Lions upset the undefeated Packers, totally dominating the Pack in one of the most amazing sporting events of my youth. Back then, the NFL always delivered unexpected excitement.

 The Packers went on to finish that season with only one loss. I don't remember if they played in the first Super Bowl that year, or whether that came later, and just winning the NFL championship was the thing. While I liked the Packers, the Bears and other NFL teams, I really loved the AFL, to me the most exciting football ever played.

When I was a kid reading Plimpton's account of trying out for the Lions, little did I know that Plimpton was the Paris Review's editor, and that I would later have a lifelong adult readership of the journal. At several times in my life, beginning in my college days, I have subscribed to the PR, and have continued reading it ever since. I've read many memoirs about Plimpton's New York and Paris literary days, but my  favorite  memory of him will always be as the New York writer seeking to play quarterback for the Lions. Farewell, Alex, who came to life in Plimpton's book, a great literary character as well as a great player and a fine comic actor.

Hemingway and Gellhorn Hit the Small Screen

I'm looking forward to the HBO film "Hemingway and Gellhorn," to be broadcast Monday night. The movie will look at the relationship of Ernest Hemingway and Martha Gellhorn, herself a renowned journalist and novelist. From what I've read, it appears as if the movie will be fairly true to life.

Clive Owen plays Hemingway and Nicole Kidman Gellhorn. The two writers' affair and subsequent marriage played out during the Spanish Civil War and World War II, when the much younger Gellhorn was reaching her prime and Hemingway had already done much of his best work, although years of stories and novels would follow.

Hemingway, one of the characters in Woody Allen's "Midnight in Paris," looks to have continued appeal 50 years after his death. No doubt a movie is in the works about F. Scott and Zelda Fitzgerald, especially with the latest film version of "The Great Gatsby" imminent.

Larry McMurtry's "Hollywood" Glitters With Star Power

The wonderful Texas writer Larry McMurtry has given us another volume of his chatty, episodic memoirs, this one about his experiences in Hollywood as a screenwriter/producer. As with his previous memoirs on his bookselling and writing lives, McMurtry writes in a conversational, ruminative style that's highly entertaining. He pokes fun at readers and himself with a comment about complaints he's received about his short chapters; some of them in this book are two or three paragraphs long.

The book is really a series of vignettes, or snapshots, of Hollywood folks he's encountered, from Diane Keaton to Peter Bognanovich and Cybill Shepherd. He calls Keaton a great friend, and gives some of his most thorough dishing in discussing how Peter and Cybill grew to be a couple during the filming of "The Last Picture Show."

Another interesting chapter or two concerns another classic made from one of his novels, "Terms of Endearment." He talks about a dinner at the home of Jennifer Jones, who wanted the lead role in the movie, which later went to Shirley MacLaine. He also covers the making of "Hud" and "Lonesome Dove" and his experiences producing/writing the Oscar-winning "Brokeback Moutain."  One of his most memorable character sketches is that of the late superagent Irving "Swifty" Lazar, whom McMurtry estimates cost him $15 million in clumsy negotiations for "Lonesome Dove."

Some critics will call McMurtry's book superficial, commercially exploitive and so forth. But McMurtry in his comments on the movie business and movie stars gives more insight in a brief chapter than can be found in most door-stopping tomes on "Film" or "The Cinema." He does complain a bit much about having to attend awards banquets -- oh, the horror -- but overall McMurtry again diplays his unique blend of worldliness, cynicism, wonder, Texas cowboy shrewdness, romanticism, and wry whimsy.

Jonathan Franzen's Instant Masterpiece

The fanfare accompanying the publication of Jonathan Franzen's novel "Freedom" is heartening to upholders of traditional literary culture. After years in which novels, especially large and serious ones, were pushed to the margins of American culture, Franzen's book is receiving cloudbursts of attention, including Franzen appearing on the cover of Time magazine.

With reading of novels and other books in decline, our attention spans short-circuited by the Internet, television, mobile phones and I-pads, and cultural standards falling, the Franzen boom is like a last reflexiive spasm of a dying age. Or perhaps it marks a revived attention to literature, fueled by the popularity of e-book readers like Kindle.

No matter what, I was dismayed by Sam Tannenhaus' fawning review of "Freedom" on the front cover of the Sunday New York Times Book Review. The first sentence set me off, "Jonathan Franzen's new novel 'Freedom," like his previous one, "The Corrections," is a materpiece of American fiction."

How unseemly for Mr. Tannenhaus, the editor of the book review and the noted biographer of Whittaker Chambers, to immediately make an inflated assessment of a novel not yet available to the reading public. Such simplistic and short-sighted declarations would be questionable for a college sophomore; they are disturbing from the editor of the most prevalent literary review in Americag.  To be declared a masterpiece, a book traditionally has stood the test of readership, received longterm critical evalation and gained acceptance by generations. Tannenaus' declaraton is premature at best. It only set the stage for a long, tedious and overwrought review.

I read "Corrections" when it appeared: I'd forgotten that it was publshed right before the Sept. 11, 2001 attacks. Perhaps someone will compile an anthology of Sept. 11-eve literature; old '60s lib and reputed Barack Obama pal Bill Ayers published his self-serving memoir right before Sept. 11 as well. "Corrections" is an apt companion to Ayers' book; both are testaments to an age of self-indulgence and moral atrophy reputedly blown away with the dust of the Trade Center towers.

Looking back on "Corrections," I don't consider it "a masterpiece." I remember a swirl of impressions, a few striking characters and scenes, and the book's claustrophobic atmosphere. It had stretches of good writing, but could have benefitted from cutting and editing. I didn't think it that much different from other novels about American families; it was hardly the original, revolutionary break with the past that Tannehaus imagines.

The importance given to Time's endorsement of Franzen is also outdated, since the cultural power of the weekly newsmagazine has seriously eroded.  A few decades ago, the newsmagazines played a major role in settting the cultural/political and social agenda, but now they hardly matter, especially to the younger generation.

That Franzen is receiving such heightened attention is ironic, since he claimed to disdain such acclaim when Oprah chose "Corrections" for her book club and he rejected her imprimatur. The burst of publicity has also brought protests from women novelists who see themselves as slighted in comparison.

The publication of "Freedom," at 562 pages, marks the latest revival of the big, messy novel. That there's no shortage of such books shows that literary publishing might not be in such bad shape after all. Still, "Freedom," even if it achieves best-seller status, will still be purchased and read by a small percentage of the American public. "American Idol" and football will consume most people.

  

Evoking Mark Twain and Willie Morris

Last night, I happened to catch the last half of Ken Burns' PBS portrait of Samuel Clemens/Mark Twain. For some reason, I'd never heard of it before, although the show had apparently been done some time ago, since it included comments by the late William Styron.

The show gave a touching portrait of Clemens and his family life. It also presented an in-depth account of Clemens' writing of "The Adventures of Tom Sawyer" and "The Adventures of Huckleberry Finn." I particularly found meaningful and insightful the exploration of "Huckleberry Finn," including appreciations by Dick Gregory, Russell Banks and Styron, among others.

The Clemens production showed Burns at his best. I thought his "Ciivl War" series was strong, but he succumbed to self-indulgence in the overblown "Baseball" and "Jazz" series.

Although he was not included, the Twain/Clemens broadcast summoned to me the ghost of Willie Morris. I woke up during the night, aware of Willie's presence. I suppose the show's portrayal of Clemens' recollections of his boyhood in the writing of "Tom Sawyer" and "Huckleberry Finn" reminded me of Morris' excellent memoir "North Toward Home," based on his boyhood in Yazoo City, Miss.

When I was at the recent Faulkner Conference in Oxford, Miss., I also thought about Morris a few times. After a tumultuous career in New York, where he was the groundbreaking editor of Harper's, Morris returned to Mississippi as the writer in residence at Ole Miss. Before his death, he sparked a literary flowering in Oxford.

Samuel Clemens/Mark Twain and Willie Morris. Such essential American voices endure and speak to us, no matter the momentary chattering and noise that at times overwhelm us.