Customer Reviews

All or Nothing at All: A Life of Frank Sinatra (Windsor Selections)

5 star:		(4)
4 star:		(0)
3 star:		(0)
2 star:		(0)
1 star:		(6)

 

 

Frank Sinatra was always a puzzle -- he sang like an angel, behaved like a jerk, and yet was apparently an extremely generous individual who kept his many charities secret.

Donald Clarke sits with all the contradictions of Sinatra, both musical and personal, without attempting to simplify them. The reviewer below who complained that the book is like an extended essay is right. Clarke does not attempt, in this relatively slim volume, to write the definitive biographical work. It is instead a shrewd, opinionated, and often funny review of the man and his music.

I'm not a FS fanatic, but I do own about 40 or 50 of his albums, which I guess makes me more than a casual fan. I almost always agreed with Clarke's musical judgements (although I think rather more of "Live at the Sands" than he does) and found a lot of value in the way he attempts to separate Sinatra's own bloviations from the facts (e.g. was Mitch Miller really responsible for how bad much of Sinatra's mid-50s work is? Not really, says Clarke, and gives reasons for this opinion).

This book is not a replacement for a full-length biography -- if you want the details on who slapped who first in every fight he had with Ava Gardner, you'll have to go elsewhere. It's also not a replacement for an annotated discography, although it made me hungry for one -- I thought I had a pretty good handle on Sinatra's recorded output, and Clarke made me realize there's a lot I don't know.

As for Clarke's writing style, I say "bravo." Judging by the impish grin he's wearing in the jacket photo, I'd say he's well aware of how provocative some of his comments are, but there's nothing arrogant about this book. Clarke has his opinions, and states them very strongly, but it's clear the reader is welcome to his or her own. If you're the sort of reader who is secure enough to enjoy strongly held and amusingly stated beliefs rather than be upset by them, I recommend this book most highly.

Five stars isn't enough.

I love FS and his music, but I am not a blind teenage hero worshipper. Part of the reason I'm a big, big, big FS fan is because he was REAL and even if he made a slew of the best recordings ever (period!) you can learn a lot about someone by getting the whole picture which includes some troublesome aspects of Sinatra's personality. If you consider the truly creative giants in all arts, many of them were not exactly what you would call well-adapted. Many of them are drug users or suicides at some point. Sinatra lived his art and his life like a man possessed, as I think Clarke mentions, and it may have been the man's sometimes "foolish fury" that made him the unequivocal entertainer of the century (to use the recordmakers' term.) A lot of the people FS ran into trouble with weren't all that righteous (the journalists, for example), and I think Clarke tells it like it was. If FS picked some bad fights, so be it; I have picked some bad fights in my life because I have one thing in common with Sinatra (definitely not my lousy voice!): I'm human and I'm flawed.

I don't buy inane music biographies that paint useless, glowing pictures of musicians. Such books are a complete waste of money.

This book is fascinating precisely because it frames Sinatra's music and life in terms of his era and his background -- the Dorsey era isn't just a nice bit of trivia, it really shaped FS' career for decades and it is astounding to look at how many Dorsey tunes were remade during the Columbia and Capitol years (and later!) It is immensely rewarding to listen to songs evolve from boyish ballads to swinging numbers over the years; American popular music came of age through Sinatra's microphone, and I think a careful reading of Clark brings this home -- be sure to have the recordings handy to play in the background while you read. His movies? I tend to like them more than I should because FS is in them, but seriously how many times can you watch the Rat Pack movies and enjoy them (once is pushing it...).

For what it's worth, I have found most of Mr. Clarke's comments regarding albums to be spot on. I own nearly 50 FS albums, and when I think about the ones I play most often they tend to coincide with albums Clarke portrays favorably.

You get the feeling reading this book that Donald Clarke sees himself as a far more noble and heroic character than some mere mortal like Frank Sinatra. Clarke has taken self-righteousness and developed it into something approaching an art form. A waste of time, a waste of money, a waste of paper, glue, ink, and whatever else was needed to print this "biography". By the way, give the word "biography" the loosest interpretation possible. Donald Clarke has even less of a clue as to what the word "biograpy" means and his book is the best evidence to support my thesis.

There isn't a single word in this book that's worth the time it takes to read it. The reader below who claims that "five stars isn't enough" is either related to Donald Clarke or else he's an employee of the publishing company. No book that was ever written about Frank Sinatra (including Kitty Kelley's) is more deserving of going out of print. Let's all hope that it happens sooner rather than later. It's Mr. Clarke himself who apparently doesn't know the meaning of the word "biography". I suggest he try reading anything written by Peter Guralnick to see how it's done.

Whuile Donald C.Clarke (author of THE RISE AND THE FALL OF POPULAR MUSIC) does not mention such things aas the Maxiner Cheshire (Washington postgossip) bashing in 1973 (during which Frank used a word that might make the South Park kids blush!) it is still a very finite book. There is a extended veiw on the Mitch Miller era in Frank Sinatra';s life (and if anyone cares, I'll be glad to upload the infamous MAMA WILL BARK in its ending).

Donald C.Clarke points out the contradicitons (which need not be outlined here; everybody knows what they were) in Frank Sinatra's life. wHILW esp.after Nancy Sinatra and Kitty kelley's respective books, in 1986 and WIll Friedwald's amusign and infomrative book a few years back it may seem redundant for ANOTEHR 'Old Blue eyes book, this is unqiue.

This book is even WORSE than the guy in Melbourne says it is! Just check out the review at the top from "Entertainment Weekly". "Tedious rehashing...maladroit musical commentary...". I wonder why the author neglected to mention those reviews? For you Sinatra fans out there, Charles Granata will be releasing a book soon that will make you forget about having anything to do with this one. Also try "Why Sinatra Matters" by Pete Hamill. It's a small and very short book but there's better writing in one paragraph than Donald Clarke has in his entire book.

To all those reviewers who didn't like Donald Clarke's five-star book, get your heads out of the sand, or wherever else they are. All or Nothing at All is outstanding on America, politics, gangsters, Sinatra, his music, his family, his friends, enemies, and more.

I'm rereading it now. It is marvelous!

The author of this book doesn't even attempt to disguise his seething contempt and dislike for Sinatra. Unsubstantiated rumours, innuendo, "re-created" dialogue, speculation ad nauseum. Dreadful rubbish, just dreadful... Do yourself a favour, and read anything written by Will Friedwald (run a search on his name for available books). In the end, the only thing that matters is the music, not the person or the image, just the music.

Mr. Clarke's "book" is really more of an extended ( and poorly written ) magazine essay. However, I'm not sure what magazine would publish it ( surely not the NEW YORKER or DOWN BEAT ). Clarke never sheds any light on Sinatra's upbringing, personality or musicianship. Not for a moment do you feel either the man or his music come to life. There are literally dozens of examples of his amateurish writing; in one amazingly idiotic passage ( page 132, 3rd paragraph ) he states that the title of Sinatra's famous album "SONGS FOR SWINGIN' LOVERS" has become "mildly irritating" (!). He goes on a moment later to ask whether "swinging" was a euphemism for suburban wife swapping (!!). No one should shell out $$ for this type of drivel. By the way, Mr. Clarke, if you're amusing yourself by reading this review in between writing your "books"; I DIDN'T buy it ( thank God I merely checked it out of the library! ). To concur with some of the other reviewers: regarding the music, try Will Friedwald's "THE SONG IS YOU; A SINGER'S ART" or Charles Granata's upcoming "SESSIONS WITH SINATRA". For an extremely well-balanced, thorough account of Mr. Sinatra's life, try Randy Taraborelli's "SINATRA: A COMPLETE LIFE". For a short but poignant essay, try Pete Hamill's "WHY SINATRA MATTERS". For a famous account of Sinatra c.1966, try Gay Talese's essay entitled "FRANK SINATRA HAS A COLD" ( available in the FRANK SINATRA READER ). Other short but informative passages on Sinatra have been written by Shirley MacLaine and Mia Farrow ( I forget the exact titles of their books ). As far as Clarke's volume is concerned, it only ranks slightly above Kitty Kelley's stinker; in other words, it deserves a spot deep in the bowels of Dante's inferno.

One thing I'm happy about is that I didn't pay full price. What a waste of paper and cardboard. There's nothing new in this book, nothing you couldn't find elsewhere. It's actually written in the first person, believe it or not, as evidenced by the not so infrequent "I never liked such and such" or "I found it to be." After a while, who cares? And evidently, the author didn't rate either a first rate editor or a fact checker. For example, there's no "e" after the "g" in judgment. He does this repeatedly. Moreover, for someone allegedly so well-versed in the entertainment industry, he's apparently rather ignorant of some basic knowledge. When discussing Reagan's inaugural parties planned by Sinatra, Clarke mentions "someone named Ben Vereen who performed in blackface", and then trashes Sinatra's "judgement" in arranging such entertainment. Uh, Mr. Clarke, Ben Vereen WAS black, he couldn't help BUT be in blackface!