I was reading this New York Times review of Howard Bryant’s new biography, The Last Hero: A Life of Henry Aaron
The Last Hero.
What does that say about us? Are heroes just for kids? Have we become so jaded that such an idea seems old-fashioned? I probably say this too often, but “back in the day” — before the omnipresent electronic gadgetry and distraction, before 24/7 cable sports programming — you were basically only able to learn about your favorite players by reading, whether it was a daily tabloid or The Sporting News. With all these other things to do, are we surprised that our kids aren’t as much into sports as we were?
I hope to chat with Bryant at some point to parse the title. Was it his idea? The publisher’s? I also think It’s interesting — and proper — to use A Life, rather than The Life. Maybe I’m watching too much Lost, but the notion that there is only one way to define a person is so limiting.
The Times‘ review upshot:
Howard Bryant (Photo by Erinn Hartman)
These biographies of Mays [Willie Mays: The Life, The Legend, by James S. Hirsch] and Aaron, taken together, are a striking and elegiac assessment of race relations in America during the 20th century. They are elegant portraits, as well, of two different ways of being a man. Wrap them both up for the 14-year-old in your life. The volume that’ll be left standing when the major book awards are handed out, though, is Mr. Bryant’s, I suspect. His is the brawny one, the one with serious and complicated swat.
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