Southern Bookman

Tracy Daughtery details varied life of Texas author Larry McMurtry

Larry McMurtry wryly called himself a "minor regional novelist," even wearing a T-shirt with that designation.

In his long and varied career, McMurtry moved far beyond that self-mocking label, receiving international recognition for his novels and other work.

From 1961 through 2017, McMurtry published nearly 50 books of varying quality, ranging from essays, memoirs, histories and biographies to the beloved novels "The Last Picture Show," "Moving On," "Leaving Cheyenne," "Cadillac Jack," "Terms of Endearment" and "Lonesome Dove," which won the Pulitzer Prize and inspired a hugely popular TV miniseries.

Accomplished literary biographer Tracy Daugherty's "Larry McMurtry: A Life," published by St. Martin's Press, traces McMurtry's improbable rise from a desolate West Texas ranch to literary acclaim.

Daugherty makes the reader feel the presence of McMurtry's personality, from his days as a book-hungry graduate student at Rice University in Houston, to his smashing debut seeing his first novel "Horseman Pass By" turned into the critically lauded movie "Hud," to his enduring career as a novelist, essayist, memoirist and historian.

The book unfolds like one of McMurtry's novels with moments like the comic visit of Ken Kesey's Merry Pranksters to McMurtry's home in Houston, to his relationships, mainly conducted by telephone, with a number of famous women, including actresses Cybill Shepherd and Diane Keaton and writers Leslie Marmon Silko and Susan Sontag.

Along with his regimen of writing 10 pages a day, McMurtry was a devoted "book scout" and rare book dealer, even opening a sprawling bookstore in his economically deprived hometown of Archer City. He also operated an elite enclave for book collectors in Washington, D.C.'s Georgetown. 

Along with a thorough analysis of McMurtry's recasting of the Western cowboy myth with "Lonesome Dove," Daugherty examines McMurtry's novels, many of them series with repeat appearances of some of his memorable characters.

While McMurtry's late novels displayed declining abilities, Daugherty valiantly praises several of them.

Daugherty excels at detailing McMurtry's dealings with Hollywood, including the production of movies made from his books such as "The Last Picture Show," "Hud," and "Terms of Endearment."

In an amusing/harrowing set-piece, Daugherty revisits director Peter Bogdanovich's on-location filming of "The Last Picture Show" in McMurtry's hometown of Archer City, called Thalia in the book and movie. The Hollywood actors and crew encountered hostility from the town's residents.

Early in his career, McMurtry in an essay assailed the provincialism of Texas literature. He took a longer view, ranging from elegiac laments about the disappearing frontier to stories about the alienation of the state's burgeoning cities. Praised for his strong women characters, he was praised and condemned for his novels' explicit sexuality.

His autobiographical characters suffered his own travails of old age. In his later novels, he exposed the Western myths of characters like Billy the Kid and Wyatt Earp, satirizing the dime novels that first created the gunfighter legends.

Even as he aged and suffered deep depression after undergoing open-heart surgery, McMurtry continued writing each day. Daugherty looks at his close relationship and writing partnership with Diana Ossana, with whom he wrote the Academy Award-winning screenplay for "Brokeback Mountain."

In a poignant finale, Daugherty tells of McMurtry's late-life marriage to Faye Kesey, Ken Kesey's widow. The couple and Ossana lived together during McMurtry's last years.

When McMurtry died in 2021 at age 84, he was no longer a regional novelist. He belonged to the world.

 

 

 

 

 

 

Journalist Adam Nagourney gives all that's fit to print about New York Times transformation

The New York Times' procession of executive editors over perilous decades resembles the Roman Empire's history.

Unlike the empire, the Times has overcome a series of crises to reach a new vitality, reinventing itself as the nation's dominant online multimedia information company.

Veteran Times reporter Adam Nagourney details the newspaper's dizzying downfalls and rebounds over the last nearly 50 years in "The Times: How the Newspaper of Record Survived Scandal, Scorn and the Transformation of Journalism."

Continuing The Times' story from the conclusion of Gay Talese's acclaimed "The Kingdom and the Power," Nagourney's deeply researched history encompasses the contentious reigns of several executive editors and the Times' overcoming economic downturns, the rise of the Internet and the Jayson Blair plagiarism and the Judith Miller Iraq weapons of mass destruction reporting debacles, among several others.

The book also gives thrilling accounts of The Times' coverage of major news events such as the Space Shuttle explosion, the Sept. 11, 2001 terrorist attacks and the fall of the Soviet Union.

While the brutal infighting and conspiratorial plots surrounding the succession of executive editors recall Roman days, the newspaper's true emperors were publishers Punch Sulzberger and his son, Arthur Ochs Sulzberger Jr., who took control from his father in 1992 despite opposition from members of his family, who own the newspaper.

The younger Sulzberger, who ceded the flourishing multimedia giant to his son, A.G. Sulzberger in 2017, presided over the most momentous era in Times history.

Socially awkward, known for his puzzling sense of humor, the man who hated the diminutive nickname Pinch muddled through to bring the Times to a new era of prosperity. Nagourney portrays Sulzberger as a Peter Sellers character who somehow triumphs in the end.

The book begins with the volatile reign of Abe Rosenthal, who takes over the newsroom at the end of Talese's saga. Rosenthal gave the newspaper a new burst of energy, reviving its circulation with innovative lifestyle and cultural sections and improved local coverage.

But his authoritarian rule, mercurial personality and bullying tactics undermined staff morale, forcing Punch Sulzberger to remove him, although the two enjoyed a convivial friendship of late afternoon office drinks, sexist jokes and newsroom gossip.

The demise of Rosenthal led to the soothing editorships of Max Frankel and Joseph Lelyveld, who served from 1994 through 2001.

Then came the era of Howell Raines, even more turbulent and destructive than that of Rosenthal. Taking over just five days before the Sept. 11, 2001, attacks, Raines at first led the Times to higher acclaim for its coverage of the assault on the city.

But Raines' aggressive, imperious style alienated the newsroom. Along with embittered managing editor Gerald Boyd, the newspaper's first black executive, Raines also enabled the duplicitous reporting of Blair, a young black man suffering from a manic-depressive disorder and substance abuse problems.

After a staff revolt at a disastrous town hall meeting in Manhattan, Sulzberger removed Raines and Boyd. Lelyveld returned to calm the newsroom's frayed nerves.

The Times suffered another fractious era under Jill Abramson, who vainly sought to withstand the encroachment of online journalism over the newspaper's hallowed traditions. Abramson was also quickly jettisoned for Managing Editor Dean Baquet, who undermined her rule while gaining the staff's goodwill.

Baquet made peace with the new generation of online journalists, bringing the old and new worlds together. While the Times reached 9 million online subscribers, its daily print circulation fell from more than a million to just over 300,000.

Nagourney's account ends with A.G. Sulzberger coping with the Trump administration, during which online readership soared. Unlike with the Washington Post, the Times' online circulation has stayed strong.

But further staff unrest and decisions such as the elimination of the Times' sports department and replacement by its Athletic acquisition shadows the beginning of Executive Editor Joseph Kahn's reign.

New historians will tell the next chapters of the Times, whose esteemed print newspaper keeps fading away. Perhaps the online subscription model will sustain the Times as it seeks to balance its acclaimed political, social and cultural reporting with the younger online audience's demands for lifestyle entertainment.

Braves fans again know pain of waiting 'til next year

Like the end of a summer love affair, the Atlanta Braves' splendid season is over too soon.

Something happened to the team's baseball karma. Home run king Matt Olson produced weak pop-ups. Ozzie Albies looked strained. Ronnie Acuna Jr., whose shots kept drifting into the seats during the regular season, now saw his flies die at the warning track. Only Austin Riley looked like himself.

For the second year in a row, the Braves won over 100 games in the regular season, only to lose to the hated Philadelphia Phillies in the National League playoffs.

Bryce Harper and Trea Turner's devastation of the Braves might be expected. But who would have thought Nick Castellanos would turn into Mr. October?

Stephen Strider's beard wasn't as intimidating as his former gunslinger's mustache. Michael Harris made two great catches, leading to unbelievable double plays, but went hitless. Outside of Riley and catcher Travis d'Arnaud, the Braves failed to come up with clutch hits.

After witnessing the Braves unexpectedly win the World Series in 2021, Atlanta fans again know the ache of a season cut short.

April will come again. But it got late early out there.

New Yorker writer John McPhee recalls 60-year friendship with Bill Bradley

John McPhee's "A Sense of Where You Are: Bill Bradley at Princeton" enlightened my high school years.

The New Yorker writer's first of many books looked at Bradley's All-American basketball career at Princeton, which he led to the Final Four in 1965.

McPhee, a city of Princeton native whose father was the Tigers' team physician and who has taught a heralded writing class at the Ivy League school for years, first met Bradley in 1964 when Bradley was a high-scoring forward for the Tigers.

That began an enduring friendship, which the 92-year-old McPhee recounts in the New Yorker's current issue.

The writer recalls his relationship with Bradley during his years playing for the New York Knicks, in which the team won two NBA championships, and as a U.S. senator representing New Jersey. Bradley also was a Rhodes scholar before beginning his pro career and played on a U.S. team that won an Olympics gold medal.

Bradley wrote several books during his years in the Senate, emerging as one of the Democratic Party's brightest stars. His presidential ambitions came to naught, a sad loss for the country.

In the profile, McPhee cites Bradley's remarkable peripheral vision. He also possessed extraordinary political vision.

McPhee, who says in the profile that he and Bradley are as close as brothers, shows the great athlete and political leader's human qualities, disclosing several comic moments.

Bradley, seen as too cerebral to win the presidency, would have been a great leader for the country.

 

 

Mavis Gallant's "Paris Notebooks" gives enduring portrait of French life

Another gift for readers has arrived this fall: The re-release of Mavis Gallant's "Paris Notebooks."

Gallant, a Montreal native who moved to Paris in 1950 and died in 2014, is best known for her incisive short stories, published by The New Yorker.

She was also an intrepid journalist, reporting on French life for the magazine with dispatches as insightful as those of Janet Flanner, the New Yorker's longtime Paris correspondent.

Along with journalism and short stories, Gallant wrote witty and perceptive book reviews regarding  Vladimir Nabokov, Gunter Grass, Simone de Beauvoir, Jean Paul Sartre, Colette  Marguerite Yourcenar, Louis -Ferdinand Celine and the now lesser known Paul Leautaud and Jean Giraudoux.

First published in 1986, "Paris Notebooks" collects Gallant's reporting, literary reviews and journal entries. The new paperback edition published by Godine Nonpareil books comes with a foreword by biographer and critic Hermoine Lee, who calls Gallant "an impeccable transcriber of French life for North American readers."

The centerpiece of the collection is Gallant's on the scene diary of May 1968, when a student revolt spread to Parisian blue-collar workers and brought a violent crackdown by the French government. Gallant fearlessly witnessed the conflicts, even patrolling the streets at night.

Monitoring media reports and talking to friends and strangers, she compiled a comprehensive record of the crisis that shook French society to its foundations. Gallant's vivid account reclaims the historical significance of then worldwide important events.

Gallant's writing brings back the urgency of that Paris spring, and the daily vibrancy of French life.

 

 

 

Book reviews come back to daily New York Times

Dwight Garner's book reviews have returned to the daily New York Times.

For weeks, Garner's work disappeared from the daily arts section, only running in the Sunday Book Review.

But lately, Garner's witty reviews, which are really essays, have again appeared in the daily Times. He's reviewed memoirs by former New Republic editor Martin Peretz and German filmmaker Werner Herzog.

Staff critic Alexandra Jacobs also wrote for the daily Arts section, contributing reviews of Mary Gabriel's new biography of Madonna and Jonathan Lethem's "Brooklyn Crime Novel."

Mysterious decisions in the Times editorial bureaucracy, as in the old Soviet politburo, probably led to the book review changes.

Book reviews have long been an essential part of the daily Times' cultural coverage.

Their return is a welcome commitment to literature and publishing.

 

 

 

 

 

Gay Talese revisits brilliant writing career in "Bartleby & Me: Reflections of an Old Scrivener"

Gay Talese's "Bartleby & Me: Reflections of an Old Scrivener" traces a brilliant writing career not yet finished.

After a series of reminisces about his apprenticeship at The New York Times and later Esquire magazine triumphs, the 91-year-old closes the collection with a new non-fiction classic: "Dr. Bartha's Brownstone," a 102-page account of a man blowing up a townhome at 34 East 92nd St. in Manhattan rather than giving it to his estranged wife in a divorce settlement.

Dr. Nicholas Bartha killed himself in the explosion, which shook surrounding buildings in the neighborhood. Showing that Talese hasn't lost any of his reporting skills and writing vitality, the article recounts the building's history dating back to the 19th century and the construction of a new home on the site.

Along with giving a compelling portrait of Bartha and his immigrant family, and the reversals that led to his decision to destroy himself and his home, Talese looks at the city's criminal justice system, real estate business and construction and architectural professions.

The Bartha saga is preceded by a 124-page recollection of how Talese conducted his reporting for the new journalism masterpiece "Frank Sinatra Has a Cold," which ran in Esquire's April 1966 issue.

Talese recalls his efforts over several weeks to interview Sinatra on the West Coast. Sinatra, involved in the taping of his famous "A Man and His Music Special" for the NBC television network and suffering from a cold, kept avoiding Talese, except for a few brief encounters. Instead, Talese talked to Sinatra's associates and family members to write the profile, later voted Esquire's all-time best non-fiction work.

The account of Talese's efforts should be taught in journalism schools in tandem with the finished Esquire piece. Ranging from Las Vegas casinos and the heavyweight fight of Floyd Patterson and Muhammad Ali to Palm Springs resorts and Los Angeles hotels, nightclubs and TV studios, "In Sinatra's Shadow" rivals "Frank Sinatra Has a Cold" in its wealth of details and colorful personalities.

Earlier in the book, Talese gives brief accounts of his career at the Times and later life as a magazine writer for Esquire and its audacious editor Harold Hayes.

Talese recalls how he persuaded Hayes to allow him to write a profile of New York Times obituary writer Alden Whitman, a former copy editor who began the now standard practice of interviewing well-known people for their obituaries.

Hayes agreed to run the Whitman piece if Talese would do the Sinatra profile, which Talese was reluctant to do. The Whitman article led to several other Times profiles for Esquire, and Talese's acclaimed history of the newspaper, "The Kingdom and the Power."

Talese cites Melville's Bartleby the Scrivener as the type of unknown person he's sought to give attention to during his career.

Unlike Bartleby, Talese's little-known heroes generally sought to make a mark in the world. Talese has also given vivid portraits of famous people like Sinatra and New York Times publishers, editors and reporters, along with lesser known newspaper workers.

As with Melville, Talese in his work reveals our shared humanity.

 

 

 

 

Remembering The Atlanta Journal

On this day 42 years ago, I began work at The Atlanta Journal.

The newsroom at 72 Marietta Street in downtown Atlanta boiled into a frenzy over the news that Egyptian President Anwar Sadat had been assassinated.

On my first day, I just observed the making over of the afternoon newspaper's front page, with a bold headline for the "blue streak" street edition.

Journal news boxes then sprouted throughout the city, stuffed each weekday with two editions of the Journal. The first street edition rolled out at 7 a.m., the latest at noon. There was also the "final home" edition delivered to subscribers' front yards, driveways and apartments.

"Covers Dixie like the Dew" was the newspaper's motto, printed each day in a small box atop the front page.

Native Atlantans considered The Journal the city's main newspaper, not the morning Constitution.

Yet, with the migration of residents to the suburbs and the rise of TV news, the Journal steadily lost circulation. In a few years, the newspapers' staffs merged, although the Journal kept publishing each afternoon as a separate brand.

Sept. 11, 2001, was the afternoon paper's last hurrah, with the late Frank Hyland's brilliant front page wrap-up of the attack on New York City's World Trade Center. The old sportswriter famed for battling former Falcons coach Norm Van Brocklin was the last of the great rewrite men.

At last, the Journal fell silent. The late Herb Steely, the staunchest Journal warrior, had the last front page changed to read "Covered Dixie Like the Dew."

High Museum's "In The City of Light" gives haunting view of Paris' golden age

The horse-drawn carriages careen down the Paris boulevards, their passengers engaged in the city's life.

Giving haunting witness to a vanished era, Paris traffic in the early films rush toward the viewer. The 19th century Parisians traveling to work or play reveled in a city transformed by Georges-Eugene Haussmann's new boulevards that erased squalid medieval neighborhoods.

As with the parallel exhibit "A Long Arc: Photography and the American South Since 1945," the High Museum of Art's "In the City of Light:Paris 1850-1920" draws upon the museum's collection to illuminate extensive historical change.

In contrast to the American South show, the Paris exhibit displays art, film and sculpture, while offering a narrower focus.

Works by Edgar Degas and Edouard Manet give a hint of the major exhibit of the artists' work that recently opened at New York City's Metropolitan Museum of Art to great fanfare.

While the Met excites crowds with Manet's still shocking nude "Olympia," the High offers enticing works by the artists, along with charming pieces from the era like Jules Cheret's lithograph "Folies Bergere: Fleur de Lotus,: Jacques-Henri's Lartique's "Avenue du Bois to Boulogne" and Henri de Toulouse-Lautrec's "Madame Rejane in Madame Sans-Gene."

The High exhibit as the title suggests emphasizes Paris' image as "the city of light," rather than its wrenching social change and political turmoil during the era. No attention is given to the Dreyfus Affair, the Franco-Prussian War, the Paris Commune or even World War I.

A bust of Victor Hugo and brief mentions of Charles Baudelaire and George Sand are the sole renderings of Paris' rich literary culture. Proust, Rimbaud, Zola and Flaubert are absent. 

Chronicling Paris' rise to global eminence, the exhibit gives witness to human transience. The Peachtree Road traffic will also pass away.

 

 

 

 

A harvest of new books from Atlanta-Fulton County Library

I'm immersed in a bounty of new books, thanks to the Atlanta-Fulton County Library.

Books I'd placed on hold recently arrived at my Sandy Springs branch within days of their publication. 

So far this week, I've checked out Gay Talese's "Bartleby and Me: Reflections of an Old Scrivener" and former Harvard President Drew Gilpin Faust's "Necessary Trouble: Growing Up at Midcentury," which have received widespread attention.

Just when I thought my reading basket couldn't grow fuller, I received a library email announcing the arrival of Adam Nagourney's "The Times: How the Newspaper of Record Survived Scandal, Scorn and the Transformation of Journalism." The Times reporter's history of the newspaper in recent years was published only last week.

Before the library's windfall struck, I was in the middle of Tracy Daugherty's "Larry McMurtry, A Life" and "A New History of the American South," from the University of North Carolina Press.

I need help: I also placed on hold former Washington Post and Boston Globe editor Martin Barron's memoir "Collision of Power: Trump, Bezos and The Washington Post," which now seems likely to show up soon on the library's "holds" shelf.

On the other hand, I've been waiting for weeks for Emma Cline's "The Guest."

The summer's trendy novel probably will crash the party soon.