Early 60's photos of Hollywood by Barry Feinstein narrated by Dylan's prose poetry (is it poetry? Don't ask him, as the interviewer did in the too-brief interview in the front of the book).
The stark photos show Hollywood dying--Marilyn Monroe, Gary Cooper, The Hal Roach studio, the famous sign--first from a distance, then approaching, then close enough that
then I can even see what holds each part of it up an I, mama, am no genius
The spare language frames the pictures perfectly with the anger, humor, and Biblical portent of any Dylan lyric, and the words and pictures repay reexamination as the eye rests and then moves between them.
I was left wishing for more of the photographs and the text, a true measure of any classic work of art.
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