Customer Reviews

Buried Alive: The Biography of Janis Joplin

5 star:		(10)
4 star:		(6)
3 star:		(1)
2 star:		(2)
1 star:		(11)

 

 

That Myra Friedman was able to publish a biography of Joplin which is so poetic, so intense, and so engaging a mere three years after Joplin's tragic death is nothing short of miraculous. However, in the context of two other superlative Joplin biographies--LOVE, JANIS by Laura Joplin (Janis's younger sister)(1992) and SCARS OF SWEET PARADISE by Alice Echols (1999)--I find Friedman's compulsive rationalizing and anxious tone here (especially in the book's concluding section) to be less illuminating of the REAL Janis Joplin than the other two books. If you read only one Joplin bio, read LOVE, JANIS; if only two, add SCARS...; but if you are a die-hard Joplin fan (as I am), read all three. Taken together, it is a tribute to Janis herself that three stunningly intelligent, articulate writers could be moved to so obsess over Joplin's work and life that they produced biographies of such high caliber within thirty years of her death.

This book was AWFUL. It starts out like a regular biography, but about a quarter of the way through, the author, Ms. Myra Friedman, begins to inject too much of her own personal opinions, and before you know it, the whole thing turns into a rant about the evils of the Sixties. This book can't really be called a biography because it is filled with too many opinions and diagnosises and not enough objective facts.

I found the author's psychoanalytic approach to be overbearing, preachy, and frankly, passe. In portraying her subject, she mixes some smug sneers at rock culture with a shallow, psyche textbook description of Janis's supposed affection/rejection complex, free of any insight into the complicated consciousness of the '60s. The author writes that Joplin referred to her (Friedman) as a "Jewish mother." We can be assured the quote is accurate, given the tone throughout.

Nothing escapes her contempt, especially poor Janis, who is really hung out to dry in the book's latter sections by the author's overly righteous harangues, all very mean-spirited. She was her publicity girl for a couple of years starting in 1968, but maybe she should have put in for a transfer to another department if she hated the rock scene so much.

The author conveys an almost sadistic pleasure in pointing out her subject's weaknesses. In her version of events, Janis Joplin apparently had not one shred of redeemable qualities and was a weak, wretched human being on all counts. She writes that Janis was "no musician," an "amateur" during her entire time with Big Brother, not at all spontaneous with her phrasing, "contrived," emotionally "astigmatized," "infantile," "deplorably self centered," copied other people's fashion styles and had no original fashion style of her own,(!!?) and chose to sing the blues strictly because it was more "marketable." She describes the album Cheap Thrills as "abominable." (Quote: "And I personally thought Cheap Thrills abominable.") and that Big Brother and the Holding Company were "absurd, ludicrous, daffy, impossible, a violation of every musical standard I held dear, a minstrel show." She also believes that the many famous photos that were taken of Janis were products of her own "narcissism and self-hatred,"(?!) and that the Woodstock festival was simply an overrated, glorified celebration of drugs as the holy grail, (no mention of the musicians, just the drugs). She also asserts that Janis's bisexuality (and bisexuality in general), is the result of an unstable, "diffused" psyche as opposed to if Janis were strictly gay or straight, which would require her to be more "tidy" in her personality. And this bit of absurdity is Miss Friedman's psychiatric diagnosis on the Kozmic Blues band: "The unsettled, internal argument, the conflict for the primitive yearning and the desire for control, were reflected in the arrangements, the songs, the character of the sets. The tone was sluggish, imposing, massive and dismal." Her explanation for why Janis was so popular with her audiences? Because they were too stoned to know the difference!!

One wonders, what was such a conservative and humorless individual, negative about most aspects of rock n' roll, doing in the center of it? In interviewing two girls from the Haight, the one with a husband and children rates her approval while the one who discussed the creative potential of drug use in the early Sixties meets with her disapproval. She also is horrified and offended that Janis would ask her if she'd read "The Sensuous Woman," and takes issue with the tattoo party Janis threw, portraying the event as the height of debauchery even though she admits she didn't attend. Peggy Caserta, Joplin's lover and shooting partner, is dismissed as an insignificant acquaintance despite evidence to the contrary. The author also belittles Joplin for not following her request to promote a peace concert during an appearance on the Dick Cavett show. You can hardly picture Janis Joplin, a self-described, apolitical cynic from the Beatnik era, promoting a peace concert in deference to her publicist, or tearfully apologizing for not doing so afterward, as the author claims.

Another thing I noticed was that she misspells the obvious, such as: "Bobby McGee" is spelled "McGhee." She also insists on hyphenating Full Tilt Boogie Band, even though that was not the official spelling. For a biographer, she should know basic facts, such as that at the Monterey Pop festival, Janis wore the famous gold outfit at the Sunday performance, NOT Saturday. She should dot her I's and cross her T's if she wants to be definitive. And instead of analyzing Janis, she should psychoanalyze herself as to why she needed to write such a book and expose personal information from Janis's doctors and psychologists, not to mention betraying the anguished confidences that Janis allegedly made to her when she was having bad days. And after all this, she claims she did her job by protecting Janis against the "nastiness" of the press, a total joke given the contents of this book, especially in light of her statement that she thought the negative press was "valid"!!! Also, she claims that Janis asked her to write her biography and tell the truth about the drugs and "everything," yet she writes that Janis never, ever confided into her about her lesbian relationships, much less talked to her very much at all about her drug use. There is one good thing about this book that I will admit: Its exhaustive listing of bars and pubs frequented by Janis. So if ever you wanted to re-create your own Janis pub "crawl" in NY or L.A., this book is a good reference source.

Turning Janis Joplin into the poster child for everything that went wrong with the '60s does not really address the life and work of this artist. I frankly think the book's title more accurately describes what the author does to her subject, rather than what the subject did to herself.

To Myra Friedman: Next time, try just a little bit harder, to be nice.

One would expect better from an author who served as Janis's publicist during her career. But when you get beneath the eloquent literary tone of this book, what emerges is Friedman's sheer ignorance and misinterpretation of Janis as a person, her life, and especially her music.

Friedman openly admits her dislike of Big Brother and the Holding Company, comparing them to a minstrel show and describing the landmark album, "Cheap Thrills" as "abominable." Kozmic Blues fares no better; the author actually believes Janis was at her "most shrill" during a time in her career that is historically considered to be her peak year as a vocalist.

Worse though, is Friedman's insidious condemnation of Janis the person, which is why I laughed out loud when I read her token passage claiming that she loved Janis. If this book is her idea of love, I'd hate to be her friend, especially if I were no longer around to defend myself.

Excerpts like these shed light on Friedman's true feelings about Janis: " [She was] talking in that fake, godawful voice." "She was deplorably self-centered..." "She was egocentric, paranoic, megalomanic..." "It wasn't love as an adult knows it: no sharing, no interest, no commitment, no giving, none of those things at all." "[She] played the buffoon." "Janis' relationships were terribly narrow..." [She was] infantile.." "Janis's childness reflected a completely unrealistic view of the world..." etc, etc. And this is just the tip of a very negative iceberg. The author basically renders her subject unrecognizable, obscured in a mire of pseudo-psychoanalysis masquerading as the truth.

No, this in not a realistic shattering of the hippie ideal and romantic 60s mythology. This is the writing of someone who just didn't get it. Time and again, Friedman interprets Janis's innocuous, off-the-cuff comments as either vastly self congratulatory or pathetically self-deprecating, when in all probability, neither was the case. Janis was a quick wit who simply went over the head of Friedman, a woman who provides much proof of her ineptness as Janis's publicist while serving as manager Albert Grossman's flunky. She herself even admits that Janis's rise to fame had nothing to do with Grossman's publicity office. No coincidence that the Band and Bob Dylan fired Grossman shortly after Janis's death.

Additionally, this book is riddled with factual errors that fly in the face of its claim to be the definitive biography. Bobby McGee is spelled wrong in one instance; Full Tilt Boogie is hyphenated throughout; her time of birth is wrong; and most astonishingly, the discography is botched. Definitive? When I see blatant errors like these, I can only wonder what else she got wrong. Another amazing addendum to the Harmony edition of "Buried Alive" is Friedman's retraction of her original writings about Seth Morgan in previous editions (apparently she felt she had overstated his signficance), as well as the Joplin family's refusal to grant permission to reprint Janis's letters to her family and friends because they were unhappy with the book.

Thankfully, Laura Joplin's biography provides the necessary historical and cultural context that this book lacks. "Love, Janis" serves as a more reliable resource than "Buried Alive." Read "Buried Alive" with a grain of salt and take note of the author's obvious colored and very subjective agenda.

I found this book to be the most intelligent ever written about the legendary Janis. I bought this book upon its publication, and , to me, it remains the definitive biography on the greatest woman rock star ever. While this book angered many (and apparently still does), I feel Friedmans perspective is very valid. This book is amazingly honest and insightful, considering it was written so shortly after Joplins death, without the benefit of time, which changes the patina of a life. While it would have been easy for any author taking on such an intimidating subject so soon after their demise to be tempted to either canonize them or vilify them, Friedman does neither. She very eloquently tells of the Janis she knew for the maybe 2 year period that she was her public relations person, and her opinions are not always popular. We like our icons deified, and it's not always easy hearing about their faults, superficialties, and demons. What can make the difference between an honest telling of a life, and an unfair portrayal, is the balance in which it is written. Though Friedman is sometimes brutal in the honesty of her observations of Janis, and sometimes perceived as judgmental, I never doubted for a second that she loved Janis, and her grief at the wretched tragedy of her ending is apparent, to me, through-out, though never maudlin. She even admits that she was not a particular fan of Joplins at the beginning of her involvement with her, having more of a classical backround. Her chapters on Janis' early years, when she was an outcast, and all but banished from school for being different, un-pretty, and un-popular, are especially filled with empathy. And her re-counting of the young Janis, the seemingly hopeless no-body , accidentally discovering she had a voice, as she sits with a friend on a train trestle.."Guess what...I think I can sing", sends a little shiver down the spine. Her love for Janis, and the immense respect that Friedman developed for the intangible magic that she created, transcended her personal likes and dislikes, as far as musical style was concerned, though she never became a "yes" person to Joplin (there were enough of those buzzing around the hive of her fame... unfortunatley.) There is not a hint of the patronizing, self-serving viewpoints seen in many other biographies of the famous. Several which came out after her death were so despicable as to not being worthy of a mention. But, compared to "Pearl", which was mildly interesting, and "Scars Of Sweet Paradise", which I found to be just re-heated opinions, this book , along with "Love, Janis", by Joplins sister Laura, is the most telling, compassionate, honest book you're going to find about the incredibly intelligent, self-destructive, very brave, once un-popular ugly duckling, whose fame became a burden at once her savior and her executioner, but had a humanity and genius that can still be heard in the un-fathomable and irreplacable power of her voice. That is what we are left with. And...that's alot.

This book seemed really negative to me. Most every page sounds like the author couldn't stand Janis Joplin or her music. She uses way too much dialogue that couldn't possibly be verbatim, just her take on conversations that may have taken place. It's hard to believe that someone who says she was close to Janis for two years would ridicule her like this after she's dead. I feel bad for Janis that this book is supposed to be the best representation we have of her. It left me with a lot of unanswered questions about Janis, particularly her music.

Pleeze, Rolling Stone and other worshippers of this dribble. Myra Friedman spends most of this outing psychoanalyzing Janis Joplin with the pompous arrogance of someone who fancies herself a shrink. This cold, biased analysis of Janis leaves her faceless, lifeless and one-dimensional. Painting Janis to be a pathetic, ridiculous coward throughout, the author makes several laughable attempts to portray herself as a close friend, claiming to have loved Janis. With friends like this, who needs enemies? I can't imagine Janis feeling anything but betrayed and offended by this judgmental portrait. Janis deserved better than this. Unfortunately, it's been hailed as the definitive rock biography. It is nothing of the sort. If you want to know the real Janis, listen to her albums.

I read Myra Friedman's "Buried Alive" for a high school book report recently.I don't know that much about Janis Joplin,only that her music was amazing.Starting out,I expected the book to inform me on the "real Janis Joplin" and how she felt through out her career as a rock star.A safe bet,right? Considering the back cover says "A stunning portrait of the legendary queen of rock...written by the woman she hoped would record it." After reading it, I can't be sure that that's what Janis DID want.The author continually put Janis down.She made her out to be concieted,moronic,and childish and then says how much she loved her,as if to keep up the idea of them being so close.Friedman continually includes occurances that have nothing to do with Janis or her career (including a section on how Friedman herself started her career in journalism/writing).I'd have to say the biography has more of Myra Friedman's thoughts and ideas than Janis Joplin's.I realize that I'm not a professional writer now (or critic),but this biography was amazingly un-informing and one-sided.

I didn't know much about Janis but got interested in her a few years ago when a friend turned me onto her music. AFter reading Sweet Scars of Paradise, and Love, Janis, I picked up a copy of Buried Alive and was really turned off and frankly, disappointed, by the author's self-righteous tone. This book seems really outdated with its psychoanalytic slant and negative portrayal of Janis. Seems like the author had a personal vendetta against her and the entire '60s.

If you're looking for a good book about Janis, I'd bypass this one and read the others bios instead.

This book is the most honest and insightful of all the many books that have been written about Janis Joplin. Some reviewers here are incensed and angered by this book, seemingly because the book dares to reveal Joplin as the unbelieveably tortured, damaged person that she was. I suppose it offends them to hear the truth; Ms. Friedman KNEW Joplin and frequently bore witness to her insane, uncontrolled behavior and persona. Her grasp of what drove Joplin to self-destruct is startling, and she does not mince words when describing Joplin's immaturity, insecurity, despair, loneliness, addictions and outrageousness. She also speaks eloquently of Joplin's intelligence, her sensitivity, her energy and talent, her ambition, her traditional desires for a home and a family. As it turns out the "real" Janis Joplin was NOT what the world tended to see, the boozy, blowsy, whorish good-time mama. She was a real woman(with a surprisingly conservative side) who wanted love and acceptance very, very badly, so much so that she was willing to put on the "Pearl" act to get the attention she craved. This biography gives the reader as well-rounded a portrait of the singer as you are ever going to get. Make no mistake about it, this is the best of the Joplin biographies.

Nearly 28 years after it's initial publication, Myra Friedman's biography of Janis Joplin remains the definitive work on the late singer. There have been numerous books written about Joplin since Buried Alive. It should be noted that none of these books could be written without using Buried Alive as a main source of reference - and in the case of Alice Echol's book, in my opinion, it borders on outright plagerism. It may be difficult for young readers to understand, but Friedman's book caused a great deal of anger from the rock community, for shedding light on drug abuse, and it's disasterous results. Janis' image during her lifetime, was that of a fun loving, hard drinking partier. This image was encouraged by her audience, and the press. Her death of a drug overdose in 1970 was a wake up call to her generation, and this book struck a raw nerve for musicians and fans - with it's brutal honesty, forcing them to face a harsh reality , which many were not ready to do. Friedman is a passionate writer, who clearly cared deeply for her subject. Of all of the Joplin biographers, Friedman is the only one that has an understanding of Joplin's art, and discusses it with intelligence. A must read.