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salparadis3's review
3.0
Pretty good story about a guy I didn't really know that much about even though you hear his name often in the discussion of the greats. The book reads more like a magazine article or a few articles loosely taped together. It could have used a better editor.
tinapost's review
An interesting book, but not one I'd want to duplicate.
Tosches is clearly a skilled writer, and this book is full of good, muscular prose. The scope of the book is impressive, as is the thoroughness of research. Tosches covers a lot of ground—quite admirably, in fact—and is quite dexterous in reminding readers where in the book they've encountered particular underworld characters before.
So that's the good stuff (very stripped down).
On the less good front—and I'll say upfront that a lot of this is at least partly rooted in personal preference—I have two main complaints.
The first is that the book seems to lack a cohesive sense of purpose. Now, it's fine to set out and explore, and it's fine to craft a book that holds out on the reader in terms of its discoveries until whatever point it suits the writer. But I got the sense that the book's very raison d'etre was elusive— shifting or undetermined until the very last second—and that no real editing took place in light of that final discovery. Of course I know editing did happen, so why not cut away some detours that not only detract from the story's momentum but seem to propose a different kind of book altogether (as when, in the early pages, Tosches considers his own early impressions of the fighter, and of blackness as a cultural phenomenon)?
The other slight criticism I have is that I couldn't shake the feeling that the author was, at times or in whole, making Sonny Liston into what he wanted him to be more than what he actually was. In all fairness, we nonfiction writers probably all do this to all our subjects to a greater or lesser degree. But in the sort of ethical cosmos I was raised in as a writer, it's part of our obligation to do something with those inclinations. Plumb them, or fight them, or expose them, or something. I didn't get the sense that this author was owning the fact that he was, in fact, using Sonny every bit as much as any of the other figures in this book. Maybe to a better purpose or end, but still using. It left a funny feeling in my gut, even while I was otherwise enjoying the book.
It was sort of like the feeling you get at a really fun party if some small part of yourself is deeply unsure you turned off the stove. Which, now that I think about it, raises the possibility that Toshes's lack of admission or insight about his motivation in turn leaves the reader with some sense of culpability? Which maybe isn't a bad thing, even if it wasn't intentional (and maybe it was)? Regardless, it tainted my sense of enjoyment.
Tosches is clearly a skilled writer, and this book is full of good, muscular prose. The scope of the book is impressive, as is the thoroughness of research. Tosches covers a lot of ground—quite admirably, in fact—and is quite dexterous in reminding readers where in the book they've encountered particular underworld characters before.
So that's the good stuff (very stripped down).
On the less good front—and I'll say upfront that a lot of this is at least partly rooted in personal preference—I have two main complaints.
The first is that the book seems to lack a cohesive sense of purpose. Now, it's fine to set out and explore, and it's fine to craft a book that holds out on the reader in terms of its discoveries until whatever point it suits the writer. But I got the sense that the book's very raison d'etre was elusive— shifting or undetermined until the very last second—and that no real editing took place in light of that final discovery. Of course I know editing did happen, so why not cut away some detours that not only detract from the story's momentum but seem to propose a different kind of book altogether (as when, in the early pages, Tosches considers his own early impressions of the fighter, and of blackness as a cultural phenomenon)?
The other slight criticism I have is that I couldn't shake the feeling that the author was, at times or in whole, making Sonny Liston into what he wanted him to be more than what he actually was. In all fairness, we nonfiction writers probably all do this to all our subjects to a greater or lesser degree. But in the sort of ethical cosmos I was raised in as a writer, it's part of our obligation to do something with those inclinations. Plumb them, or fight them, or expose them, or something. I didn't get the sense that this author was owning the fact that he was, in fact, using Sonny every bit as much as any of the other figures in this book. Maybe to a better purpose or end, but still using. It left a funny feeling in my gut, even while I was otherwise enjoying the book.
It was sort of like the feeling you get at a really fun party if some small part of yourself is deeply unsure you turned off the stove. Which, now that I think about it, raises the possibility that Toshes's lack of admission or insight about his motivation in turn leaves the reader with some sense of culpability? Which maybe isn't a bad thing, even if it wasn't intentional (and maybe it was)? Regardless, it tainted my sense of enjoyment.
2000ace's review
5.0
Another epic story from Nick Tosches. Sonny Liston battled the Devil in one form or another his entire life. I very highly recommend this book. You just have to read the story for yourself.
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