Apropos to what James Bailey and I were going back and forth about last week, this piece by Neil Genzlinger on the merits — or lack thereof — of memoirs in the Times’ Sunday Book Review caught my eye because one of the four authors included was Sean Manning, who had edited last year’s Top of the Order: 25 Writers Pick Their Favorite Baseball Player of All Time.
Bailey had written in his original piece that he’d rather not do a review than produce a particularly rough one. I guess Genzlinger didn’t read that. He was exceptionally blunt (harsh? truthful?) when he said there are a few worthy memoirs out there
But they are lost in a sea of people you’ve never heard of, writing uninterestingly about the unexceptional, apparently not realizing how commonplace their little wrinkle is or how many other people have already written about it. Memoirs have been disgorged by virtually everyone who has ever had cancer, been anorexic, battled depression, lost weight. By anyone who has ever taught an underprivileged child, adopted an underprivileged child or been an underprivileged child. By anyone who was raised in the ’60s, ’70s or ’80s, not to mention the ’50s, ’40s or ’30s. Owned a dog. Run a marathon. Found religion. Held a job.
Of the four books under consideration, only one was given a “passing grade” (my phrase, not his). And it wasn’t Manning’s.
A lot of what Genzlinger has to say can be carried over to the genre of sports memoirs. How often have we seen a one-year wonder seek to cash in on his “flavor of the month” status? As the reviewer says, “[T]his flood just has to be stopped. We don’t have that many trees left.”
P.S. For a good overview, read Ben Yagoda’s Memoir: A History
is available on Amazon.com,
{ 1 comment }
As someone who has led an exceedingly unremarkable life I find myself rebuked by Neil Genzlinger for presuming to write a memoire (Six Decades of Baseball: A Personal Narrative) that apparently should never have been written. This has caused me to reflect on just why I chose to contribute to the “flood” of memoires that so obviously distresses Mr. Genzlinger.
My reasons for writing my memoire included
a. Having the simple satisfaction of writing a book.
b. Sharing my story with my family and friends (and yes, getting a bit of recognition from them as well).
c. Leaving a legacy for my sons and anyone else down the line who might be interested (My wife is currently compiling a genealogical scrapbook for our sons and nephews and oh how we wish that some of those unremarkable people who gaze back at us from their photos had written some of their memories down on paper).
d. It was fun! To look on your own baseball past and try to come up with just the right words to describe this game or that player was a very rewarding exercise – the next best thing to getting to relive it – I can’t recommend it enough.
e. However much I might tell myself that this was not a commercial venture, there was a dream/fantasy that maybe, just maybe, it would be a book that others outside of my immediate sphere might enjoy (enjoy enough to fork over the $20 price).
Well a little over a year has passed since Six Decades of Baseball has been published and it is fair to say that the dream/fantasy of a commercially viable product has not been realized. While a few of the folks that I approached wrote favorable reviews (thank you Ron Kaplan) others respectfully declined which I can fully understand – a request from a complete stranger to read/review a book is an imposition and no reviewer should feel the least bit of guilt for passing. Sales have been very limited – at a recent SABR event I was allowed table space to promote my book. While several people were interested in hearing about my project, no one was interested enough to actually pay money to read it. Yes, my book is definitely not a best seller.
I would maintain however that just because a dream is not achieved does not imply that that the effort should not have been undertaken. Mr. Genzlinger seems to feel that some sort of objective criteria should be met before we presume to put our memories to paper. To that I would simply reply that as ordinary baseball fans I feel that we are just as much a part of the tapestry of baseball as the players or managers or even the sports writers. And even though our stories don’t generate the wide range of interest that a Mickey Mantle biography commands – perhaps the sphere of interest extends only to our family and immediate friends but that doesn’t mean that the stories in not worthy of being told and I am very grateful that the current print on demand technology provides an affordable opportunity for ordinary fans like myself to share our baseball memories.
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