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Overview
A scholarly, in-depth analysis of the whole range of Bob Dylan's lyrics both early and late from one of the most distinguished literary critics of our time, the man W.H. Auden called "exactly the kind of critic every poet dreams of finding."Bob Dylan's ways with words are a wonder, matched as they are with his music and verified by those voices of his. In response to the whole range of Dylan early and late (his songs of social conscience, of earthly love, of divine love, and of contemplation), this critical appreciation listens to Dylan's attentive genius, alive in the very words and their rewards.
Dylan's is an art in which sins are laid bare (and resisted), virtues are valued (and manifested), and the graces brought home. The seven deadly sins, the four cardinal virtues, and the three heavenly graces: these make up everybody's world-but Dylan's in particular. Or rather, his worlds, since human dealings of every kind are his for the artistic taking. Pride is anatomized in "Like a Rolling Stone," envy in "Positively 4th Street," Anger in "Only a Pawn in Their Game" . . . But, hearteningly, Justice reclaims "Hattie Carroll," Fortitude "Blowin' in the Wind," Faith "Precious Angel," Hope "Forever Young," Charity "Watered-Down Love."
In the New Yorker, Alex Ross recently wrote that "Ricks's writing on Dylan is the best there is. Unlike most rock critics-'forty-year-olds talking to ten-year-olds,' Dylan has called them-he writes for adults." In The Times, Bryan Appleyard maintained that "Ricks, one of the most distinguished literary critics of our time, is almost the only writer to have applied serious literary intelligence to Dylan."
Synopsis
A scholarly, in-depth analysis of the whole range of Bob Dylan's lyrics both early and late from one of the most distinguished literary critics of our time, the man W.H. Auden called "exactly the kind of critic every poet dreams of finding."
Bob Dylan's ways with words are a wonder, matched as they are with his music and verified by those voices of his. In response to the whole range of Dylan early and late (his songs of social conscience, of earthly love, of divine love, and of contemplation), this critical appreciation listens to Dylan's attentive genius, alive in the very words and their rewards.
Dylan's is an art in which sins are laid bare (and resisted), virtues are valued (and manifested), and the graces brought home. The seven deadly sins, the four cardinal virtues, and the three heavenly graces: these make up everybody's world-but Dylan's in particular. Or rather, his worlds, since human dealings of every kind are his for the artistic taking. Pride is anatomized in "Like a Rolling Stone," envy in "Positively 4th Street," Anger in "Only a Pawn in Their Game" . . . But, hearteningly, Justice reclaims "Hattie Carroll," Fortitude "Blowin' in the Wind," Faith "Precious Angel," Hope "Forever Young," Charity "Watered-Down Love."
In the New Yorker, Alex Ross recently wrote that "Ricks's writing on Dylan is the best there is. Unlike most rock critics-'forty-year-olds talking to ten-year-olds,' Dylan has called them-he writes for adults." In The Times, Bryan Appleyard maintained that "Ricks, one of the most distinguished literary critics of our time, is almost the only writer to have applied serious literary intelligence to Dylan."
The New York Times - Jonathan Letham
[Ricks] has, seemingly, merely wished to test the songs he loves against his own pre-existing context, which happens to be Philip Larkin and Matthew Arnold, not Blind Willie McTell. In doing so he's found the songs all the more extraordinary, not wanting in any measure. Fair enough. Any critic's a blind man, faced with an elephant as formidable as the collected works of Bob Dylan. But some blind men have extraordinarily sensitive hands, and it is not impossible to imagine an elephant's pleasure at their touch.
Editorials
Jonathan Letham
[Ricks] has, seemingly, merely wished to test the songs he loves against his own pre-existing context, which happens to be Philip Larkin and Matthew Arnold, not Blind Willie McTell. In doing so he's found the songs all the more extraordinary, not wanting in any measure. Fair enough. Any critic's a blind man, faced with an elephant as formidable as the collected works of Bob Dylan. But some blind men have extraordinarily sensitive hands, and it is not impossible to imagine an elephant's pleasure at their touch.β The New York Times