glabour's review against another edition
2.0
If Sports Illustrated considers this to be the best sports book ever written, then I don't think I'll read a book about sports ever again.
Did I finish this book? No. Did I like this book? Sort of. Why am I marking it as read? Because I consider a DNF to be a book that I either a) have read less than half of or b) have the intention to pick it up later.
I read over half of this book, and I typically finish a book when I get past the halfway point out of some rule in my head.
A.J. Liebling's The Sweet Science is a book I simply could not finish. I'll admit, the first half was interesting. I liked the discussion of fighters like Rocky Marciano, Sugar Ray Robinson, and Joe Louis. Then, in the last section of the book called "Other Fronts," which takes up the second half, the structure and any form of narrative falls apart. This section feels like the first drafts Liebling did before honing his skills and creating the first half of the book. I say this because the structures of each "story" in "Other Fronts" follows the same structure every time .
It goes as follows: Description of fight written about by Pierce Egan, description of boxer's previous fights, description of manager, description of training, description of boxer, description of opponent, description of opponent's manager, description of opponent's training, description of the day leading up to the fight, description of the fight, and a final quip. It's this way every single time, even in the parts I found interesting. When I lost interest in the fighters and boxing as a whole, which I did halfway through, the book became a constant slog.
The introduction of my edition states that Liebling is an important journalist because he began to write in a "New Journalism" style 15 years before the term was coined by Tom Wolfe. Liebling's style, however, is still trapped in the early 1950s. New Journalism typically placed the reporter as a central character in the story, but Liebling is more of a drifting shadow in these stories.
If Liebling's point about boxing is that, at the end of the day, all of the fighters regardless of race all boil down to the same type of person - a dedicated poor man who sees fighting as his only way of making it in the world - then he has succeeded in spades. I don't think I needed 30 examples of this to get that point. Since I don't believe this is Liebling's point and since he seems to be writing this book as a love letter to the sport, I think the book falls short of its goal.
And, to the editors of Sports Illustrated , I say this: Just because a book was the first to do something doesn't mean it is the best to do it.
If you want to feel like you're in the 1950s reading a newspaper article and chuckling at very very dry and mild humor, read a section of this book each day and enjoy your pipe.
Did I finish this book? No. Did I like this book? Sort of. Why am I marking it as read? Because I consider a DNF to be a book that I either a) have read less than half of or b) have the intention to pick it up later.
I read over half of this book, and I typically finish a book when I get past the halfway point out of some rule in my head.
A.J. Liebling's The Sweet Science is a book I simply could not finish. I'll admit, the first half was interesting. I liked the discussion of fighters like Rocky Marciano, Sugar Ray Robinson, and Joe Louis. Then, in the last section of the book called "Other Fronts," which takes up the second half, the structure and any form of narrative falls apart. This section feels like the first drafts Liebling did before honing his skills and creating the first half of the book. I say this because the structures of each "story" in "Other Fronts" follows the same structure every time .
It goes as follows: Description of fight written about by Pierce Egan, description of boxer's previous fights, description of manager, description of training, description of boxer, description of opponent, description of opponent's manager, description of opponent's training, description of the day leading up to the fight, description of the fight, and a final quip. It's this way every single time, even in the parts I found interesting. When I lost interest in the fighters and boxing as a whole, which I did halfway through, the book became a constant slog.
The introduction of my edition states that Liebling is an important journalist because he began to write in a "New Journalism" style 15 years before the term was coined by Tom Wolfe. Liebling's style, however, is still trapped in the early 1950s. New Journalism typically placed the reporter as a central character in the story, but Liebling is more of a drifting shadow in these stories.
If Liebling's point about boxing is that, at the end of the day, all of the fighters regardless of race all boil down to the same type of person - a dedicated poor man who sees fighting as his only way of making it in the world - then he has succeeded in spades. I don't think I needed 30 examples of this to get that point. Since I don't believe this is Liebling's point and since he seems to be writing this book as a love letter to the sport, I think the book falls short of its goal.
And, to the editors of Sports Illustrated , I say this: Just because a book was the first to do something doesn't mean it is the best to do it.
If you want to feel like you're in the 1950s reading a newspaper article and chuckling at very very dry and mild humor, read a section of this book each day and enjoy your pipe.
ewbanh's review against another edition
3.0
The writing is incredible. Tastes like Joseph Mitchell’s New York City. The content is meh. The embedded racism of the day is like a thick miasma permeating the stories. The constant references to a book he liked as a kid are a bit tiresome.
mephelan's review against another edition
4.0
Voted #1 sports book of all time by Sports Illustrated. Liebling was a boxing writer, and a very good one. This series of essays covers about 15-20 fights in the early 1950s. Beyond the blow-by-blow, Liebling gives the history of the fighters, sets the scene, and tells you the whole story of his attendance at the fight. He often rails against the influence of television on the boxing world.
Even if you're not a boxing fan (I'm not particularly), the essays are well written and often quite funny. That said, there are a number of turns of phrase that modern readers will find problematic, including referring to many black boxers even in their late 30s as "boys".
i32505's review against another edition
3.0
This book is a collection of essays that the golden era of boxing, the 1950s- in my opinion, it wasn't much of a golden era. It was interesting because a number of scenarios that an experienced boxing fan is aware of are covered like the slow decline of a fighter who refuses to acknowledge what is happening, although Liebling could get too bogged down in minor details and jargon. Taken as a whole, it was enlightening.
ekerstein's review against another edition
2.0
I love A.J Liebling's writing. His personality comes through in a way that can't be faked by those who aren't such interesting characters. However, I just couldn't finish this book. I made it about 80% through before I realized I really have no interest in boxing. So I don't recommend this book unless you're a boxing fan.
boyblue's review against another edition
3.0
The first essay in the book is excellent and hilarious, the way it so artfully describes the role of the sports fan makes it a classic. A later piece on Marciano vs Walcott is also worth the price of admission alone. Unfortunately, a collection of essays is much like boxing; not all the punches you throw connect.
My enjoyment of each essay was moderated by three features, how well I knew the boxer he was referring to, how good of a boxer they were, and how much the essay connected to a wider social context. Liebling's best pieces are ones that combine all three.
When he's writing of a champion like Joe Louis, who could really box, connecting Louis back to fights 100 years previous, linking him to the social issues of the time and demonstrating Louis' true power in and out of the ring, Liebling's prose sings. You can feel yourself there, or rather you wish you were there.
Liebling's commentary on the demise of boxing as the sweet science is interesting too, I'd love to know what he would say about the current scene, because arguably it's only gotten worse. The trend Liebling identified with the domination of TV has fully reached it's endgame, you're either the champion of the world or you're nothing. To further undermine the plight of the amateur, mothers don't want their children boxing anymore. There's just too much fear of what the lasting damage of getting consistently whacked in the head will do. We all witnessed the terrible price Ali paid to be "The Greatest" and most mothers don't want their child paying that price.
It's interesting because Liebling's lament is essentially that intelligence has been drained out of boxing. Though at the same time many of his best pieces are about Rocky Marciano who was essentially a brick with eyes. Perhaps he's right about intellectual de-powering of the sport, though one could argue that geniuses of bodily talent and incredible craft still emerge, just look at someone like Lomachenko. It seems the sport can still create compelling narratives and pull millions of viewers but it's the critics and aficionados that have really been drained from it, which partly explains why Liebling's work is still considered the best boxing writing of all time.
In Australia people only seem to be interested in celebrities or cross code sportsmen boxing, partly for the story and partly for the amateurism. By dropping the standard of the fight it seems the bar to watch and enjoy is dropped too, people with little to no knowledge can watch without feeling out of their depth. Boxing's popularity is under threat from the no holds barred blood sport of MMA, which pulls the seekers of violence away. It's also in many ways under threat by the WWE and other wrestling comps, which pull the fans of story-telling away. Beset on all sides by competitors and being undermined from within by celebrities and cross-code sports stars, boxing somehow still feels like the most pure and true of all fighting sports. It's history stretches back into time.
Liebling's reverence of Pierce Egan can become tiresome, though it's extremely important. The insights and context given to the pieces from some of these connections to Egan's observations add gravitas and history to the present. Liebling's ability to connect fighters back to their predecessors is symptomatic of boxing's greatest strength as a sport. The concept of the lineal champion. That is to say that the current lineal champion beat the previous champion, who beat the one before him, and on and on until the beginning of time, where single celled amoebas hit each other with their flagella. It's awesome and you can't do that with many other sports.
It's hard to even choose who the best football player in the world is let alone when it changes. Other sports like tennis have a #1 but that doesn't necessarily mean they are the best in the world at that time and they may also lose consistently to a particular opposition. The lineal title is what gives boxing its history and power, Liebling's understanding of that and usage of Egan to connect all "milling coves" together in a line that stretches back through the fog of time is brilliant work and well worth the read. You can see them through the ages, from Pollux and King Amycus, through Ali and Frazer, to Joshua and Ruiz, two men pitched in battle, with nothing but their wits and fists to fight with, what they're fighting for has changed over the years as has the way they go about it but it's still the same primal contest, man vs man.
My enjoyment of each essay was moderated by three features, how well I knew the boxer he was referring to, how good of a boxer they were, and how much the essay connected to a wider social context. Liebling's best pieces are ones that combine all three.
When he's writing of a champion like Joe Louis, who could really box, connecting Louis back to fights 100 years previous, linking him to the social issues of the time and demonstrating Louis' true power in and out of the ring, Liebling's prose sings. You can feel yourself there, or rather you wish you were there.
Liebling's commentary on the demise of boxing as the sweet science is interesting too, I'd love to know what he would say about the current scene, because arguably it's only gotten worse. The trend Liebling identified with the domination of TV has fully reached it's endgame, you're either the champion of the world or you're nothing. To further undermine the plight of the amateur, mothers don't want their children boxing anymore. There's just too much fear of what the lasting damage of getting consistently whacked in the head will do. We all witnessed the terrible price Ali paid to be "The Greatest" and most mothers don't want their child paying that price.
It's interesting because Liebling's lament is essentially that intelligence has been drained out of boxing. Though at the same time many of his best pieces are about Rocky Marciano who was essentially a brick with eyes. Perhaps he's right about intellectual de-powering of the sport, though one could argue that geniuses of bodily talent and incredible craft still emerge, just look at someone like Lomachenko. It seems the sport can still create compelling narratives and pull millions of viewers but it's the critics and aficionados that have really been drained from it, which partly explains why Liebling's work is still considered the best boxing writing of all time.
In Australia people only seem to be interested in celebrities or cross code sportsmen boxing, partly for the story and partly for the amateurism. By dropping the standard of the fight it seems the bar to watch and enjoy is dropped too, people with little to no knowledge can watch without feeling out of their depth. Boxing's popularity is under threat from the no holds barred blood sport of MMA, which pulls the seekers of violence away. It's also in many ways under threat by the WWE and other wrestling comps, which pull the fans of story-telling away. Beset on all sides by competitors and being undermined from within by celebrities and cross-code sports stars, boxing somehow still feels like the most pure and true of all fighting sports. It's history stretches back into time.
Liebling's reverence of Pierce Egan can become tiresome, though it's extremely important. The insights and context given to the pieces from some of these connections to Egan's observations add gravitas and history to the present. Liebling's ability to connect fighters back to their predecessors is symptomatic of boxing's greatest strength as a sport. The concept of the lineal champion. That is to say that the current lineal champion beat the previous champion, who beat the one before him, and on and on until the beginning of time, where single celled amoebas hit each other with their flagella. It's awesome and you can't do that with many other sports.
It's hard to even choose who the best football player in the world is let alone when it changes. Other sports like tennis have a #1 but that doesn't necessarily mean they are the best in the world at that time and they may also lose consistently to a particular opposition. The lineal title is what gives boxing its history and power, Liebling's understanding of that and usage of Egan to connect all "milling coves" together in a line that stretches back through the fog of time is brilliant work and well worth the read. You can see them through the ages, from Pollux and King Amycus, through Ali and Frazer, to Joshua and Ruiz, two men pitched in battle, with nothing but their wits and fists to fight with, what they're fighting for has changed over the years as has the way they go about it but it's still the same primal contest, man vs man.
stevenk's review against another edition
4.0
A wonderful collection of the authors pieces on boxing written originally for the New Yorker in the early 50's. At a time when TV was changing boxing Liebling discusses the sport, it's history and culture in a highly entertaining way with great language and references to literature, history, and myth. This book not only brings to life the fights but the atmosphere surrounding the fights from the training camps, the colorful promoters and managers, the sparing partners, the undercard bouts, the crowds, and the pubs. From his descriptions of the fighters and arenas to the chatter of the crowds and atmosphere of the boxing clubs this book was a great read at a time when great boxing writing has disappeared from my local paper.
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