It sure felt like
I did a lot of reading in June, but thanks to the size of the books (including
a 1,500 page tome you'll see in next month's log), there's not much to show for
it below. Nevertheless, here's a look!
"What Is Owed: Without Economic Justice, There Can Be No Equality" by Nikole Hannah-Jones, New York Times Magazine. 35 minutes.
"Love, Loss, and Baseball" by Tom Verducci, Sports Illustrated. 111 minutes.
A fictionalized first person account of the 1918 baseball season (which happened in the midst of a global pandemic), told via the lettesr of an actual sportswriter at the time.
Following up Parting the Waters, the Pulitzer Prize-winning account of the Civil Rights Movement in the late 1950s and early 1960s, was going to be a challenge no matter what approach writer Taylor Branch took. Narrowing the sequel's focus to 1963-1965 made things even more difficult, as the book misses some of the seminal moments in the movement's history (too late for Birmingham, too early for Selma). The result is a book that misses the mark a bit, a scattershot history that seems unsure what story it's trying to tell.
Beginning with essentially a 100 page recap of its predecessor, Pillar of Fire then moves into its first big moment, the movement for civil rights in St. Augustine, Florida, a story I was completely with which I was completely unfamiliar. From there it moves to the Freedom Summer in Mississippi, the passage of the Civil Rights Act of 1964, and the awarding of the Nobel Peace Prize to Martin Luther King Jr., with Branch then beginning to lay the groundwork for Selma in the final pages. Interspersed between this linear list of events are accounts related to the activities of other pivotal figures, particularly Malcolm X, J. Edgar Hoover, and Lyndon Johnson.
It is these side stories, while often interesting, that cause the book to feel unfocused and transitory, like it's, well, the 2nd part in a trilogy (which it is). At times J. Edgar Hoover seems more like the main character of Branch's story than King does, as Branch leaves no stone unturned in telling how the FBI sought to impede the Civil Rights Movement and its leaders. Similarly, Malcolm X, who went virtually unmentioned in the first book, is checked in on throughout this volume, though rarely with enough detail or purpose to seem to warrant the accounts.
While I learned things in this book, especially about the St. Augustine movement and Freedom Summer, I found it to be a more tedious read than Parting the Waters. Next month I'll wrap up the trilogy with At Canaan's Edge, where King's story shifts from civil rights to campaigns against war and poverty before coming to a violent end.
For the second month in a row, the classic
novel I turned to was an examination of the evil in all men’s hearts and the idea
that civilization is a construct which can collapse at any moment. You know, escapism.
A parable about the line between civilization and
barbarity, The Lord of the Flies tells the story of a group of schoolboys
who crash land on a deserted tropical island during World War II and are left
to fend for themselves—and in doing so, see themselves descend into savagery.
Funny at times and horrifying at others, it’s an easy read, and a prescient one.
Reading as an adult instead of a middle
schooler—and in the middle of an incredibly tumultuous time in our world—it was
fascinating how much the book’s themes resonated with me this time around. The
Lord of the Flies is far from a pleasant read, but its depiction of societal
standards’ fragility is worth your time.
ESSENTIAL CLASSIC X-MEN VOL. 1-2
When you think about the X-Men, you probably
think about Wolverine first. Others who leap to mind may be Storm, Nightcrawler,
Colossus, and Mystique. There’s good reason for that; those are some of comics’
most popular characters. But while “Stan Lee Presents” sits at the top of most
of their comic book adventures, none were Silver Age creations of Stan the Man
and Jack “the King” Kirby.
No, the Silver Age “Classic” X-Men were a
different group entirely, a team of teenage mutants led by Professor Charles
Xavier. Despite some familiar names (Cyclops, Jean Grey, and the aforementioned
Professor X), these ain’t the X-Men you’re used to. And after reading 50+
issues of their adventures, let me warn you: sometimes the upgrade really is
better than the original.
Don’t get me wrong, there are seeds of greatness
in these stories. The idea of a mutant race that is hated and feared by
humanity began here. Familiar story elements like the Danger Room and Cerebro
date back to these stories. Several notable X-Men villains, including Magneto in
the inaugural issue, debuted in the 1960s.
But by and large, these are some of the weaker offerings from Marvel’s Silver Age, hurt by the lack of a consistent writer-artist team. While there are high points, most of these issues are middling at best and sloppy at worst, and they’re all a far cry from the heights that would be reached in the 1980s, when the book was reimagined and became the best-selling title in comics. Tune in next month for volume 3, which promises better storytelling and beautiful art before the book’s years-long Bronze Age hiatus.
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