Tom Adelman

A good baseball history about the 1966 baseball season and the surprising World Series between the Baltimore Orioles and the Los Angeles Dodgers. Adelman does a good job of setting the cultural context of the 1966 baseball season, without going overboard or being too heavy handed. Those factors include the beginning of the counter-culture, the heating up of the anti-Vietnam War movement and, most importantly for the book, the fact that Baltimore was still a fully segregated city (but with a truly progressive mayor doing his best to change conditions).

There is a fair bit toward the beginning that will be old news for devoted baseball fans, such as the history of the Dodgers' move to LA, but I can of course understand Adelman's need to review such events before proceeding. Adelman does a nice job of moving the focus around and giving profiles of several of the most important/interesting players on both teams. He also avoids the worst pitfall of baseball books that chronicle a single season, which is to rely too heavily (and lazily) on simply giving a blow by blow account of game results instead of providing insights about events.

I learned a good bit about Frank Robinson, about Sandy Koufax (because while I have Jane Leavy's bio of Koufax on my baseball shelf, I haven't read it, yet) and in particular about how the stress of the close NL pennant race really ground the Dodgers down that year (the Orioles had things locked up early and were fresher in October). There's quite a bit more, as well, but I don't want to ruin the fun of reading this book. The account of the World Series itself is excellent.… (more)

From http://museink.blogspot.com

There is the clichéd scene in High Fidelity where Rob goes through his record collection and rearranges it in order of life’s moments. I’m sure I’m not the only music geek to go home after a big break up and think about doing the same thing. And I’m not the only one to shudder at the idea, turn the stereo up, and cry in her beer. Camden Joy understands. Rock and roll isn’t his hobby, or passion, or new love, or even a religion. His records and CDs aren’t collectables over which to get all alpha male. No. It goes deeper than that. Rock and roll, what it means, where it comes from, where it takes you, how it connects is the physical and psychic make up of Camden Joy and his writing.

Lost Joy is a collection of manifestoes, essays, and other prose that until now have not been available in one volume. Unless you consider the walls and hoarding boards of New York City to be a volume. Then walk the walk and read the talk before the latest soft drink sponsored savior of rock and roll pastes its face across Joy’s musings. No doubt he will organize his thoughts quick enough to foil the designs of the twenty first century Svengalis. He made a name for himself as a gonzo rock critic in 1995 and his titles include The Last Rock Star, or Liz Phair: A Rant, Boy Island, Hubcap Diamond Star Halo, Palm Tree 13, and Pan that he co-authored with Colin B. Morton.

Joy ably combines the adamant style of Hunter S. Thompson with the enthusiasm of Jack Kerouac. I wouldn’t burden the author with being a voice of Generation X; certainly there are lessers more deserving of that terrible yoke. Joy does speak to those of us who listen to the song or an artist and recognize more. The story “The Greatest Record Album Ever Told”, a tribute to Frank Black’s Teenager of the Year is a good example. The author weaves his life and thoughts into a passionate review of a record. Real simple, but there are always songs and CDs that hearken back to a time dark, or light, or just overcast. Joy sits us down and lets us in to his experience of Black’s discography.

Lost Joy isn’t all glimpses of Joy’s life, or a fictional facsimile thereof. The opening story, “Dum Dum Boys,” sets the tone of the journey upon which the writer takes us. Coming of an age after the zits have been exfoliated away. He undermines studied cynicism evoking a sadness that gives more foundation for jaded wisdom.… (more)