Overview
In these characteristically incisive essays, Mark Singer profiles eccentrics, monomaniacs, and other remarkable people he thinks we ought to meet. He takes us into the worlds of the sleight-of-hand master Ricky Jay, the ardent bibliophile Michael Zinman, and better-known personalities such as the entrepreneur Donald Trump and the meticulous filmmaker Martin Scorsese. He interviews a devoted fan of the cowboy movie star Tom Mix and a group of Texans who are determined to recover the skull of Pancho Villa from Yale's Skull and Bones society, among others. A riveting tour of obsession, Character Studies reveals the passions that drive the ordinary, the quirky, and the truly, fanatically fixated.
Synopsis
In these characteristically incisive essays, Mark Singer profiles eccentrics, monomaniacs, and other remarkable people he thinks we ought to meet. He takes us into the worlds of the sleight-of-hand master Ricky Jay, the ardent bibliophile Michael Zinman, and better-known personalities such as the entrepreneur Donald Trump and the meticulous filmmaker Martin Scorsese. He interviews a devoted fan of the cowboy movie star Tom Mix and a group of Texans who are determined to recover the skull of Pancho Villa from Yale's Skull and Bones society, among others. A riveting tour of obsession, Character Studies reveals the passions that drive the ordinary, the quirky, and the truly, fanatically fixated.
The New York Times - Jeff MacGregor
In writing about small folks -- the stewbums and the dead-enders, the desperate pilgrims and the Bowery savants -- Mitchell found a way to write about us all. For more than 30 years, thread by thread, he wove an immense tapestry of New York. In his best work, which seemed to be the only work of which he was capable, the reader knew that some grand, elusive truth stood just around each corner. Most important, in all his subjects we found some resonant aspect of ourselves, because Mitchell's genius lay not in his painstaking devotion to craft, but in his subtle affection for the rest of us, in the astonishing wealth of his empathy.
Editorials
Jeff MacGregor
In writing about small folks -- the stewbums and the dead-enders, the desperate pilgrims and the Bowery savants -- Mitchell found a way to write about us all. For more than 30 years, thread by thread, he wove an immense tapestry of New York. In his best work, which seemed to be the only work of which he was capable, the reader knew that some grand, elusive truth stood just around each corner. Most important, in all his subjects we found some resonant aspect of ourselves, because Mitchell's genius lay not in his painstaking devotion to craft, but in his subtle affection for the rest of us, in the astonishing wealth of his empathy.— The New York Times