Updated.
Those of you who’ve been regular visitors to Mannionville over the years know how much I owe to James Wolcott.
Basically I don’t exist without Jim.
I’ll bet most of you found your way here thanks to Jim and his blog at Vanity Fair. Whenever I pick up new readers, it’s almost always the case it’s because they followed a link from Jim. In short, this blog is pretty much a chapter of the James Wolcott Fan Club and Mighty Marching Society. So, if you haven’t heard it already, you''ll be happy to hear now that Jim’s memoir, Lucking Out: My Life Getting Down and Semi-Dirty in Seventies New York is in the bookstores.
It’s in the ether too. There’s a kindle edition.
I’ve got my copy but I’m looking for a whole day to put aside to read it in one sure to be happy and rewarding go. Meanwhile, Tom Watson, another blogger who owes much to Jim’s generosity---and there are many of us---has raced his way through his copy and posted a review.
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Updated because the Merry Marchers keep marching along beating their drums and clanging their cymbals in praise of their guy:
Film critic and novelist Tom Shone says he “tore through” Luckin Out and was “gobsmacked” by Wolcott’s command of a sentence and his subjects:
What stops his writing from descending into mere Fine Writing — or, since Wolcott is too energetic a talent for silver-birch finery, the hyper-caffeinated rock-press equivalent, distracted by its own snarl in the bath-room mirror — are his sure, unfakable rhythms, frequently reserving the most delightful sealion flips for the point at which most writers would be taking a well-earned cigarette break, and the simpatico match-up between his prose and his subjects. In each case, he locks into some obstreperous vitality in his subjects — a gnarly, wriggling life force — and then proceeds to write like a man possessed.
And our favorite film blogger, the Self-Styled Siren, on her way to a lengthy review of a new biography of legendary New Yorker film critic Pauline Kael, uses Jim’s book as her launching pad:
I cherish this book. It isn't nostalgia, that tattered paper valentine that arrives sometime around St. Patrick's Day. It's a chance to visit another world with a critic supreme, who's as generous here as he's always been to struggling writers.

Thanks for the heads-up, Lance. I've had an indy book store 'retirement' gift card burning a hole in my pocket for the last month and now I know what to get. Wolcott!!
Posted by: DaveH | Tuesday, October 25, 2011 at 11:43 PM
Damn, now I'm going to have to bookmark Watson. Good thing I've just retired:)
Posted by: DaveH | Tuesday, October 25, 2011 at 11:44 PM
There's a marching society? Do we get uniforms?
Many thanks for the link, Lance. Wolcott is indeed the Santa Claus of Small Bloggers.
Posted by: The Siren | Wednesday, October 26, 2011 at 10:06 PM
Siren, you bet! With gold braid!
Dave, you won't regret bookmarking Tom. I assume, though, you already have Siren's page bookmarked?
Posted by: Lance Mannion | Thursday, October 27, 2011 at 01:25 PM
I've always loved Wolcott's way with words and point of view. Sentence-master, that one. And I'm grateful for his point me towards Lance, Siren, Shone, Sheila, Watson, Behind The Stick..he's never steered me wrong. I've a few non-blogging writer friends to whom he's been very encouraging as well. Looking forward to reading his new book. And Lance's thoughts on it.
Posted by: Belvoir | Thursday, October 27, 2011 at 08:02 PM