The New York Times is the latest to run a review of James S. Hirsch’s new biography.
The upshot:
The result is an authoritative if sometimes listless book, one that’s less “Say Hey” than so-so. Like a long out to center field that scores a runner, however, it’s a book that gets the job done.
Damning with faint praise?
The review, by Dwight Garner, goes on to say:
“Willie Mays: The Life, the Legend” is packed with fresh, salty details, but it bogs down in its replaying of season after grueling season. Mr. Hirsch is a capable writer, but his prose sometimes sounds soulless, as if its generalities were being intoned over a Ken Burns documentary.
and
This book couldn’t have been an easy one to write. Mays is known for his reticence and his distrust of writers. “Willie volunteers about as much information as a brass Buddha,” one once said. Mr. Hirsch seems to have gotten more out of Mays about his two marriages (he also has one adopted son) and his private life as anyone has. Mays remains, however, tantalizingly remote. “Who is Willie Mays?” Mr. Hirsch asks, as if in mild despair. “It’s a fair question.” …. But this book gives us a portrait of Mays as his own kind of pioneer, on the field and off. He played the game as well and as joyfully as it could be played, and he was a role model who disarmed the bigots with his discipline and infectious charm.
The on-line version links to en excerpt from the book.
is available on Amazon.com,
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