First published in 1943, this autobiography is also a superb portrait of America’s Depression years, by the folk singer, activist, and man who saw it all.Woody Guthrie was born in Oklahoma and traveled this whole country over—not by jet or motorcycle, but by boxcar, thumb, and foot. During the journey of discovery that was his life, he composed and sang words and music that have become a national … become a national heritage. His songs, however, are but part of his legacy. Behind him Woody Guthrie left a remarkable autobiography that vividly brings to life both his vibrant personality and a vision of America we cannot afford to let die.
“Even readers who never heard Woody or his songs will understand the current esteem in which he’s held after reading just a few pages… Always shockingly immediate and real, as if Woody were telling it out loud… A book to make novelists and sociologists jealous.”
—The Nation
more
Woody Guthrie is a rare and remarkable storyteller, I already knew that from his songs. Now, my life is enriched by having read his wide-brimmed memoir. Thanks to Bob Dylan for the recommendation in his own autobiography, Chronicles: Volume One.
In Bound For Glory, published in 1943, Woody’s words leap and tumble off the page with poetic immediacy, humor, and his hometown Oklahoma dialect of the times that grabbed hold and shook me, as he captivates with a casade of tales from his youth through the beginning of his fame as THE Woody Guthrie we all know: uplifting, rock solid folksinger of his day and influencer of generations to come.
Guthrie was raised during the depression and word paints and illustates portraits of this colorful and challenging slice of life through his telling of his family life and boyhood, which was full of love, adventure, angst, and tragedy. His beloved sister Clara died from a fire in childhood. After that jarring loss, his mother went though searing emotional anguish as a parent who survived the catastrophic death of her child. Her sad story does not end well. Eventually, young Woody, (who was often inducted against his wishes by his peers to rock and fist fight because he was strong and it was a sporting spectacle to see), set out from home early. He traveled like a hobo by train, got caught in the rain, spoke Oakie, not plain, and sang his way to fame.
The narrative packs in social commentary on race relations, injustice, friendship, labor and class struggles, and takes biting jabs at the pathetic political rouse in this country. I fell in love with this the portrayal of Guthrie as an innocent wee kid, a rascally boy, and hung on to his every word as the pages spin out his evocative evolution into a young man of conviction, intelligence, talent and integrity who is jostled by life and flooded with down-to-earth humanity.
He says, “… with a song, you sing it out, and it soaks that in people’s ears and they all jump up and down and sing it with you, and then when you quit singing, it’s gone, and you get a job singing it again. On top of that, you can sing out what you think. You can tell tall tales of all sorts to put your idea across to the other fellow.” Well, he put his ideas across to me all right, and I will always remember my dad singing out his songs. Guthrie has sort of seeped into my soul. I recommend this book.
I was much more impressed with this autobiography reading it this year than when I first read it twenty years ago or so. At the time, I wanted more autobiography-like autobiography. But that’s not what this book is supposed to be. I’d call it a lyrical autobiography, more anecdotal and poetic than factual. I suppose everything in here is more or less factual, but it doesn’t matter. Woody uses the power of words to have an effect. I loved the somewhat disconnected scenes much more this time. Not everything comes together, but not everything has to or needs to. He spends a lot of time on his early years, and says some remarkable things. But what’s really captured here is a time and places when America was a country where people could see right and wrong. It’s not that one has to read it as some idealized version of American ideals. It’s not that. It’s a story based on Woody’s realistic, and also poetical, appraisal of his own experiences. I wonder what people now own of their own experiences, when everything is created for them and delivered via one screen or another. This is one of the great American narratives, despite the disconnects, unfinished bits, and sketchiness of parts of the writing.