Indiana University Press, the publishing arm of the school I was supposed to attend to pursue a doctorate in Victorian Studies except I never showed up, publishes several books on jazz. Two titles I've bought in the past year—The Jazz Poetry Anthology and The Second Set (both collections of jazz poetry)—have come out of IU Press, as did Ask Me Now: Conversations on Jazz & Literature. The latter was a gift from my friend Andrea, whose article "Jazz in Print for Readers, Writers and Photographers" makes good reading. Also on my bookshelf: Quintet of the Year by Geoffrey Haydon, published in London, and two thick volumes out of Columbia University Press, Uptown Conversation: The New Jazz Studies and The Jazz Cadence of American Culture.
Showing posts with label books. Show all posts
Showing posts with label books. Show all posts
Thursday, December 27, 2007
Christmas Loot: Ask Me Now
Indiana University Press, the publishing arm of the school I was supposed to attend to pursue a doctorate in Victorian Studies except I never showed up, publishes several books on jazz. Two titles I've bought in the past year—The Jazz Poetry Anthology and The Second Set (both collections of jazz poetry)—have come out of IU Press, as did Ask Me Now: Conversations on Jazz & Literature. The latter was a gift from my friend Andrea, whose article "Jazz in Print for Readers, Writers and Photographers" makes good reading. Also on my bookshelf: Quintet of the Year by Geoffrey Haydon, published in London, and two thick volumes out of Columbia University Press, Uptown Conversation: The New Jazz Studies and The Jazz Cadence of American Culture.
Sunday, October 7, 2007
The Wild Trees
I once spent an awestruck afternoon in Muir Woods, but that was on the ground looking up and up and up. Richard Preston's book The Wild Trees: A Story of Passion and Daring tells of people who hunt for giant trees, then climb them, study them, sleep in them (in specially made hammocks), get married in them, and hang from ropes looped over branches hundreds of feet from the ground. You want them not to fall (some do) so you can learn more about what it's like to go where they go--where no humans have gone before. There are a few too many names in the book, and the narrative moves around in time a bit much, but it's a fascinating tale of exploration and discovery; these men (and one woman) are vertical Marco Polos. Preston himself is an expert tree climber who has passed on that gene of desire to his own children; they take exotic climbing trips as a family. He tells us more than I wanted to know about the personal lives of the people in the book, but the science is deeply interesting, and when he describes the trees themselves--their height and mass and majesty, the gardens that grow in them, how impossibly old they are--he approaches poetry.
Richard Preston's Web site includes interviews, a photo gallery, and excerpts from the book read by the author
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