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6 of 6 people found the following review helpful:
5.0 out of 5 stars
A True Classic, November 18, 2003
I first read excerpts from "A False Spring" about 30 years ago when they appeared in three consecutive issues of Sports Illustrated. From the moment I began reading that first installment, I was entranced. It is hard to describe exactly why, but I am sure that the baseball action in the book was not the reason. Instead, I remember Jordan's vivid portrayls of such seemingly mundane things as a prarie thunderstorm, an afternoon fishing in the swamplands of Florida and the glow of the instruments on his dashboard. These depictions riveted me, I'm convinced, because they put into words how I saw the world. As an 11 year-old, this was a unique and novel experience for me.Jordan's portrayal of his own feelings of dissatisfaction, disappointment, anger, rage and finally resignation also resonated with me. Most of the reading I had done up to that point portrayed life's events in a linear fashion that was totally at odds with what I had already experienced. I was fascinated that Jordan could take an accessible subject matter and weave all of these other elements into it. Mind you, all of this came to me from reading the three SI excerpts. I never did read the book until, by chance, I was searching on this site and came across a name I remembered. So, 30 years later, I got a copy and tried to find out whether this book would have meaning for me anything like what I experienced as an 11 year-old. Some pompous windbag spoke at my college graduation ceremony about the test for what he called "clahsic stahtus." According to this guy, any writing qualified for that status if one could read the work at widely spaced intervals and still feel the same spark as in the previous readings. He assumed, I guess, that peoples' perceptions and interests change over the years and that only writing that had a certain breadth would be able to appeal to a reader who had undergone those changes. "A False Spring" certainly passed the test. All of the vivid descriptions -- the hand-me-down uniforms, the barracks-like atmosphere of minor league spring training, the experience of pitching in frozen northern outposts-- remained as vital and gripping as before, as did Jordan's portrayal of the unravelling of his baseball career. With the benefit of 30 years' experience, I was able to understand the author's struggles in more than the visceral way I did as an 11 year-old. Further, I got the strong sense -- confirmed in Jordan's later memoir, "A Nice Tuesday" -- that Jordan himself had not figured out exactly why things had gone so wrong for him. At times, reading this book was like watching someone reliving some horrible nightmare. At other times, it was simply a pleasant experience to read Jordan's description of day-to-day life in small town America in the late 50s. Throughout, the book was just as gripping as those SI excerpts that grabbed me 30 years ago. I have read that Pat Jordan set about to create a persona in this book and that the portrayal of that persona was calculated and not always accurate. Even so, this book reveals enough of the real experiences of the man that it withstands the test of time. I'm not so interested in absolute historical accuracy when I come across a book that can hold my attention and bring me back for more 30 years after the first reading.
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