Did you read Charles R. Cross’ review of Peter Guralnick’s new book in last Sunday’s Los Angeles Times? It sounds like Guralnick was between the proverbial rock and a hard place.
“Dream Boogie: The Triumph of Sam Cooke” must be considered the authoritative rendering of the singer’s short life. Ten years in the making, filled with both minutiae and a sweeping backstory, “Dream Boogie” is a testament to Guralnick’s skill as a researcher, even if at times that very strength diminishes the story’s narrative arc.
Narrative arc is a crucial structural element in good storytelling, and it requires a sharp editorial knife to excise all that is not relevant to THE story, whatever that is defined to be. It seems that the best memoirs and biographies — best meaning most readable and engaging for the average person — are those that focus on a theme or particular revelation/transformation. Those weighty soup-to-nuts tomes, even when well-written, are likely to be lauded only by academicians and aficionados; they’re a hard ad heavy read for John and Joanne Doe.
Not that I’m agreeing with Cross — I haven’t read the book yet.
Cross also wrote:
The biggest problem with “Dream Boogie” is not one of Guralnick’s making: The more we learn about Sam Cooke, the less we like him and, correspondingly, the less we care about his music.”
If that’s true, it is sad, because Guralnick cared enough to spend ten years writing the book and, as Cross points out, “Cooke was a truly groundbreaking artist…” But nobody wants to hear a story about someone they don’t care about — audiences need to identify with, love and cheer for, or love to hate the main character — indifference is fatal.
There’s another fine line to be walked; it’s the line between straight reporting and explaining, the latter of which may include value judgments. In Cross’ opinion, Guralnick may have cared too much. Cross writes:
Much as he did when writing about Elvis, Guralnick relies on a straightforward style of narration that leaves no room for judgment or explanation of Cooke’s life. But whereas Guralnick had enough distance from Elvis to give readers a fly-on-the-wall feel, here he seems at times affected by a biographical Stockholm syndrome — so in love with his subject that he can excuse any character flaw. Guralnick is clearly enthralled with Cooke…
So what’s a writer to do? Should we stick to the facts and let readers draw their own impressions? What if the guy/gal is not so likeable, but is important and interesting if the story can be told — should we then offer more explanation? If we do, will readers and critics say “who made you judge and jury, or protector?” And going back to the beginning dilemma, if we sift through a life to bring you THE story as we see it, will we not be pilloried for insufficient research and leaving out facts?
Delicious dilemmas or hellacious headaches for the narrative biographer.