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I Wear the Black Hat: Grappling With Villains
ŷ Choice Award
Nominee for Readers' Favorite Nonfiction (2013)From New York Times bestselling author, “one of America’s top cultural critics� (Entertainment Weekly), and “The Ethicist� for The New York Times Magazine, comes a new book of all original pieces on villains and villainy in popular culture.Chuck Klosterman has walked into the darkness. As a child, he rooted for conventionally good characters like wide-eyed Luke Skywalker in Star Wars. But as Klosterman aged, his alliances shifted—first to Han Solo and then to Darth Vader. Vader was a hero who consciously embraced evil; Vader wanted to be bad. But what, exactly, was that supposed to mean? When we classify someone as a bad person, what are we really saying (and why are we so obsessed with saying it)? In I Wear the Black Hat, Klosterman questions the very nature of how modern people understand the culture of villainy. What was so Machiavellian about Machiavelli? Why don’t we see Batman the same way we see Bernhard Goetz? Who’s more worthy of our vitriol—Bill Clinton or Don Henley? What was O.J. Simpson’s second-worst decision? And why is Klosterman still obsessed with some kid he knew for one week in 1985?
Masterfully blending cultural analysis with self-interrogation and limitless imagination, I Wear the Black Hat delivers perceptive observations on the complexity of the anti-hero (seemingly the only kind of hero America still creates). I Wear the Black Hat is the rare example of serious criticism that’s instantly accessible and really, really funny. Klosterman is the only writer doing whatever it is he’s doing.
Masterfully blending cultural analysis with self-interrogation and limitless imagination, I Wear the Black Hat delivers perceptive observations on the complexity of the anti-hero (seemingly the only kind of hero America still creates). I Wear the Black Hat is the rare example of serious criticism that’s instantly accessible and really, really funny. Klosterman is the only writer doing whatever it is he’s doing.
214 pages, Hardcover
First published July 9, 2013
421 people are currently reading
10.3k people want to read
About the author
Chuck Klosterman
132books4,928followersCharles John Klosterman is an American author and essayist whose work focuses on American popular culture. He has been a columnist for Esquire and ESPN.com and wrote "The Ethicist" column for The New York Times Magazine. Klosterman is the author of twelve books, including two novels and the essay collection Sex, Drugs, and Cocoa Puffs: A Low Culture Manifesto. He was awarded the ASCAP Deems Taylor award for music criticism in 2002.
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Displaying 1 - 30 of 1,095 reviews
March 3, 2021
But here’s the problem: My confusion here is real. I’m not writing this to persuade you to agree with me; I’m writing this because I want to figure out why I feel the way that I do (and pondering in a dark room doesn’t seem to suffice). At the beginning of this essay, I gave the impression that I’ve been occupied with this problem for three days. In reality, I’ve been trying to figure it out for two years.I Wear the Black Hat is a collection of twelve essays “grappling with villains.� Why would anyone want to be evil? What is the most villainous move on the market? (Spoiler alert: it’s tying a woman to the railroad tracks). What’s scarier—a villain with a motive, or a villain without one? He explores these and other questions through a couple dozen fictional and real characters: from Snidely Whiplash and Batman and the cast of Seinfeld to everyone from Niccolò Machiavelli and Hitler to The Eagles and Chevy Chase.
As with all Chuck Klosterman books, the writing is strong, asks lots of interesting questions, and makes many fascinating arguments and counter-arguments. It's witty, fun, and full of logical and philosophical discussions. I thought the best essays were: �Another Thing That Interests Me About the Eagles Is That I [Am Contractually Obligated to] Hate Them,� which uses the Eagles and Taylor Swift to explore musical villains, backlashes, and how people reverse-engineer their reasons for criticizing art and artists; �Villains Who Are Not Villains,� which uses D.B. Cooper and others to explore how under certain circumstances actions that would normally cause someone to be deemed a villain—like hijacking an airplane—instead make that person seem heroic; and �Easier Than Typing,� which uses the 1984 subway shooter Bernhard Goetz to show how fictional vigilantes like Batman would never actually be popular if they were real.
But there were a fair number of problems here. It’s strange that other than Hillary Clinton and Monica Lewinsky—who are explicitly declared non-villains in the Bill Clinton impeachment saga—there are no women discussed in the entire book. Written in 2013, parts of the book haven’t aged well—Louis CK, LeBron James, and any discussion of the villainy of politicians without discussing a certain recent President. Each essay is interesting, and so many different types of villains are examined, but the book just sort of ends on an odd beat without ever really coming together to support the book’s thesis that “In any situation, the villain is the person who knows the most but cares the least.�
I Wear the Black Hat is classic Chuck Klosterman: clever and thought-provoking and a bit frustrating all at once. 3.5 stars rounded up to 4.
July 8, 2016
Chuck's a lil' too far up his own asshole with this one. I've greatly enjoyed his previous non-fiction works, mostly because he hasn't tried to imbue his criticism of _pop_ ephemera with much in the way of greater meaning. It's pop culture, his books should be tasty little snacks that recall the specific period they are writing about, and that's it.
THIS collection of pop culture essays, though, has a theme. A rather muddled one about the nature of villainy and how our culture views its villains, with a healthy dash of self-chest-thumping "I always root for the bad guy, so I must be a bad guy" weirdness sprinkled throughout.
It just doesn't click on that level for me. Taken as a series of essays about various bad dudes from the last fifty years ago, it approaches a fun read. But the constant, tortured analysis of how each particular person fits into the grander theme of modern villainy ruins what little flow the book ever builds up.
Particularly annoying is the end. There is no grand wrap-up of the damned theme he's shoehorned in throughout the rest of the book, just a summary of the last person's particular villainy. And the last sentence is just the absolute worst.
Chuck's had a very solid track record on his career so far so a misstep was inevitable and I believe this is it. I hope he recovers and realizes that there's nothing wrong with being "just" a really outstanding pop culture essayist and decent novelist.
THIS collection of pop culture essays, though, has a theme. A rather muddled one about the nature of villainy and how our culture views its villains, with a healthy dash of self-chest-thumping "I always root for the bad guy, so I must be a bad guy" weirdness sprinkled throughout.
It just doesn't click on that level for me. Taken as a series of essays about various bad dudes from the last fifty years ago, it approaches a fun read. But the constant, tortured analysis of how each particular person fits into the grander theme of modern villainy ruins what little flow the book ever builds up.
Particularly annoying is the end. There is no grand wrap-up of the damned theme he's shoehorned in throughout the rest of the book, just a summary of the last person's particular villainy. And the last sentence is just the absolute worst.
Chuck's had a very solid track record on his career so far so a misstep was inevitable and I believe this is it. I hope he recovers and realizes that there's nothing wrong with being "just" a really outstanding pop culture essayist and decent novelist.
August 20, 2013
The guy never ceases to amaze me. Yeah, the book is pretty good. But before I get to that, what struck me as I was reading it was -- how in the world does he have the time to know as much as he does? Like Seinfeld, he’s a show about nothing, but really, everything. He could talk you to death (and do so intelligently) about TV, movies, books, sports, or whatever, and be completely credible. Because, he’s apparently seen and listened to all that there is to be seen or listened to, and has read everything from Machiavelli to O.J. Simpson’s quasi-confessional book. So again, how does he have the time? He’s got a job! A wife! Clearly, he’s just a superior being.
I Wear the Black Hat is about villains, or maybe more specifically, villainy. It’s not so much about serial killers because they’re just subhuman. And there’s definitely no longer the obvious evil-evil types around, either --the black hat, handlebar mustache, and sadistically glinty stare can only be found in silent films, anymore. Today, a villain lives in a world of gray. He (or she) isn’t plainly evil. A villain (according to him) is a person who knows the most, but cares the least.
For example, why does everyone love Batman so much, yet, if a real-life someone like Bernhard Goetz were to ‘take matters in his own hands� at a potential time of self-defense, he isn’t beloved? Or, during his presidency, didn’t Bill Clinton cheat on his wife, Hillary? But he’s still adored --even by women. Did someone (or some people) do more harm than him? These two chapters (‘Easier Than Typing� and ‘Arrested For Smoking�) are easily two highlights in this collection of essays, along with the Perez Hilton-the-future-being-shoved-in-our-faces-whether-we-like-it-or-not ‘Electric Funeral� essay that hits me where it already hurts.
Like always, Chuck Klosterman assaults you with pop culture references, makes some really intriguing comparisons, lays out the hypoiest of hypotheticals, backs up all his claims with a breadth of research, and does so with wit and charm to boot.
He knows how to make a guy envious.
The one piece of unfortunate negative criticism: He was unable to mention either Rivers Cuomo or Weezer anywhere in this book. I was so looking forward to something about them in some way from my fellow =w= fancluber. But then again, they have no business whatsoever being associated with villainy in the first place, anyway. And we both know that.
I Wear the Black Hat is about villains, or maybe more specifically, villainy. It’s not so much about serial killers because they’re just subhuman. And there’s definitely no longer the obvious evil-evil types around, either --the black hat, handlebar mustache, and sadistically glinty stare can only be found in silent films, anymore. Today, a villain lives in a world of gray. He (or she) isn’t plainly evil. A villain (according to him) is a person who knows the most, but cares the least.
For example, why does everyone love Batman so much, yet, if a real-life someone like Bernhard Goetz were to ‘take matters in his own hands� at a potential time of self-defense, he isn’t beloved? Or, during his presidency, didn’t Bill Clinton cheat on his wife, Hillary? But he’s still adored --even by women. Did someone (or some people) do more harm than him? These two chapters (‘Easier Than Typing� and ‘Arrested For Smoking�) are easily two highlights in this collection of essays, along with the Perez Hilton-the-future-being-shoved-in-our-faces-whether-we-like-it-or-not ‘Electric Funeral� essay that hits me where it already hurts.
Like always, Chuck Klosterman assaults you with pop culture references, makes some really intriguing comparisons, lays out the hypoiest of hypotheticals, backs up all his claims with a breadth of research, and does so with wit and charm to boot.
He knows how to make a guy envious.
The one piece of unfortunate negative criticism: He was unable to mention either Rivers Cuomo or Weezer anywhere in this book. I was so looking forward to something about them in some way from my fellow =w= fancluber. But then again, they have no business whatsoever being associated with villainy in the first place, anyway. And we both know that.
August 16, 2023
"There's a natural evolution to how male audiences respond to the [original trilogy of the] Star Wars franchise. When you're very young, the character you love most is Luke Skywalker (who's entirely good). As you grow older, you gravitate toward Han Solo (who's ultimately good, but superficially bad). But by the time you reach adulthood . . . you inevitably find yourself relating to Darth Vader, easily the most intriguing character, and seemingly the only essential one." -- page 7
After being very disappointed with Eating the Dinosaur last month, it was with some trepidation that I delved into yet another collection of Klosterman's essays. Fortuitously, his I Wear the Black Hat works better as it doesn't go for scattershot pin-balling of random topics like in the aforementioned book, but firmly concentrates on some fictional yet mostly actual villainy. Yes, Klosterman will mention Snidely Whiplash (the top-hatted and mustache-twirling antagonist of the early 60's Dudley Do-Right cartoons) and Breaking Bad's Walter White, but really focuses more who those who either were established evil (Ted Bundy, Jerry Sandusky, and of course Adolf Hitler), conveniently assumed a 'bad guy'-ish role to the public at large (comedian Andrew Dice Clay, outspoken sports broadcaster Howard Cosell, and those Oval Office lovebirds Bill Clinton and Monica Lewinsky), those who just didn't give two ****s about what anybody thought of them (occultist Aleister Crowley, subway vigilante Bernhard Goetz, basketballer Kareem Abdul Jabaar, and the 70's-era Oakland Raiders) or some especially out-of-left field choices (would ANYONE have predicted the inclusion of Taylor Swift and Muhammed Ali ???). Over the span of twelve critiques, Klosterman sometimes humorously but more often thoughtfully examines the perceptions of what makes for villainous behavior in today's world, or how it sticks like flypaper to some but is quietly forgotten about in others.
After being very disappointed with Eating the Dinosaur last month, it was with some trepidation that I delved into yet another collection of Klosterman's essays. Fortuitously, his I Wear the Black Hat works better as it doesn't go for scattershot pin-balling of random topics like in the aforementioned book, but firmly concentrates on some fictional yet mostly actual villainy. Yes, Klosterman will mention Snidely Whiplash (the top-hatted and mustache-twirling antagonist of the early 60's Dudley Do-Right cartoons) and Breaking Bad's Walter White, but really focuses more who those who either were established evil (Ted Bundy, Jerry Sandusky, and of course Adolf Hitler), conveniently assumed a 'bad guy'-ish role to the public at large (comedian Andrew Dice Clay, outspoken sports broadcaster Howard Cosell, and those Oval Office lovebirds Bill Clinton and Monica Lewinsky), those who just didn't give two ****s about what anybody thought of them (occultist Aleister Crowley, subway vigilante Bernhard Goetz, basketballer Kareem Abdul Jabaar, and the 70's-era Oakland Raiders) or some especially out-of-left field choices (would ANYONE have predicted the inclusion of Taylor Swift and Muhammed Ali ???). Over the span of twelve critiques, Klosterman sometimes humorously but more often thoughtfully examines the perceptions of what makes for villainous behavior in today's world, or how it sticks like flypaper to some but is quietly forgotten about in others.
August 26, 2013
I tried to buy this in a hip Chicago bookstore, and the clerk there was telling me that they were sold out. She then proceeded to explain to me that she didn't like Chuck Klosterman and why.
I couldn't help but think what a weird move this was, explaining to me why she didn't like an author rather than asking me something like "Do you want to order one? From our BOOKSTORE. Where we survive by bringing books from outside, putting them in here, and then forcing people to give us money to take the books back outside."
But anyway, her complaint was that Chuck Klosterman's book Killing Yourself to Live was not enough about the deaths of rock stars and too much about Chuck Klosterman. She used a phrase that I don't care for, "navel-gazing."
Navel-gazing, to me, describes a work that is ABOUT the author, but not really about the author DOING anything. Just thinking about stuff. More importantly, uninteresting stuff. What would happen if most of us wrote a memoir at 23.
I don't really see the point of a cultural writer like Klosterman if he isn't writing about himself. At least somewhat. Coming at it from HIS perspective.
It's 2013. If I googled, how many opinions or cute things could I read about any pop culture topic? Holy shit, you could read about the TV series M.A.N.T.I.S. that me and 3 other people, including the stars, would remember, you could search that and read about it all goddamn day without seeing a repeated article.
If you're not including a piece of yourself in pop culture, you're wasting your time!
If you wrote a review of this book that summarizes what happened and provides no personal perspective, I'm not really sure what I'm supposed to take away from it.
Which is the big difference. A writer acknowledges that he or she is writing because someone is going to be reading it.
So in this book, Klosterman is talking about villains. Basically, what makes a person a villain as opposed to a non-villain. How will history remember someone and why.
Some of the questions are truly fascinating:
-Why do we all worship Muhammad Ali even though he viciously used race to turn the public opinion on Joe Frazier, the sort of thing we would never tolerate today?
-How is OJ Simpson's book outlining how he would have murdered his own wife not considered a more interesting cultural object?
-How did Monica Lewinsky become the villain in the Clinton scandal?
-Why is Taylor Swift popular?
God help me, I never thought I would say this, but one of the book's most interesting essays was about Machiavelli.
Klosterman pushes a theory that the villain is the person in any situation who knows the most and cares the least. A situation, dear reader, that I am well aware of.
At a workplace a group of us were talking about the inadequacy of maternity leave. How short it was, how it was difficult to manage, and so on, and we were discussing how it seems as though the main goal is to prevent employees from giving birth.
I said, "Well, you know what they should do? They should just put 'hysterectomy patients preferred' right on the application. At least that way they'd be honest."
A co-worker looked at me and in all seriousness said, "I don't understand how anyone has ever dated you."
Which was kind of hurtful, and honestly upsetting because I felt like I was just quantifying what the policy said, granted in an outlandish and ridiculous way, but I wasn't actually SAYING that people who had functioning uteruses (uteri?) should seek employment elsewhere.
What happened was that I knew the most and was therefore able to sum it up, but also came off as caring the least because I joked about the topic. I found myself the villain even though I agreed that the maternity leave was inadequate and also said something about it that was directed to highlight the ridiculousness.
The Machiavelli essay is about the idea that Machiavelli may not have been in any way Machiavellian, and that history has started to uncover the idea that The Prince was satire, not a how-to book on being a dick to get ahead. Yet, Machiavelli will be remembered for being the guy who knew how to be a dick and get ahead. Even if he doesn't use that knowledge, just his ability to put himself in that frame of mind and think along those lines makes people question his goodness.
It's an idea that's false, but also happens almost 100% of the time in practice.
If I pose a bizarre idea, like the idea that I invented the perfect artificial heart, and in Iron-Man-like fashion a light shines through the recepient's chest, and everything is perfect except that this light is in the shape of a swastika, when I pose that idea people never say, "That WOULD be weird" or "That would be a strange world" or "I wonder what a Holocaust survivor would do when faced with a tough decision". Instead, they say, "Why do you think about this stuff?" They turn it back on whoever came up with it, ignoring the fact that I clearly recognize myself how insane that entire situation is.
Frankly, I shudder to think what other people are doing in their heads all day if not thinking of strange scenarios. What are you guys thinking about in there? What you packed for lunch? What you're wearing and how you feel about it? High school?
So, I guess by Chuck Klosterman's definition, I'm semi-evil.
But you know what? I'm in good company with Machiavelli. We're very alike in our own little way. Granted, he wrote an all-time philosophical classic while I just made nyuck-nyucks about a grave surgical procedure. But it's definitely as close as I'm going to get.
I couldn't help but think what a weird move this was, explaining to me why she didn't like an author rather than asking me something like "Do you want to order one? From our BOOKSTORE. Where we survive by bringing books from outside, putting them in here, and then forcing people to give us money to take the books back outside."
But anyway, her complaint was that Chuck Klosterman's book Killing Yourself to Live was not enough about the deaths of rock stars and too much about Chuck Klosterman. She used a phrase that I don't care for, "navel-gazing."
Navel-gazing, to me, describes a work that is ABOUT the author, but not really about the author DOING anything. Just thinking about stuff. More importantly, uninteresting stuff. What would happen if most of us wrote a memoir at 23.
I don't really see the point of a cultural writer like Klosterman if he isn't writing about himself. At least somewhat. Coming at it from HIS perspective.
It's 2013. If I googled, how many opinions or cute things could I read about any pop culture topic? Holy shit, you could read about the TV series M.A.N.T.I.S. that me and 3 other people, including the stars, would remember, you could search that and read about it all goddamn day without seeing a repeated article.
If you're not including a piece of yourself in pop culture, you're wasting your time!
If you wrote a review of this book that summarizes what happened and provides no personal perspective, I'm not really sure what I'm supposed to take away from it.
Which is the big difference. A writer acknowledges that he or she is writing because someone is going to be reading it.
So in this book, Klosterman is talking about villains. Basically, what makes a person a villain as opposed to a non-villain. How will history remember someone and why.
Some of the questions are truly fascinating:
-Why do we all worship Muhammad Ali even though he viciously used race to turn the public opinion on Joe Frazier, the sort of thing we would never tolerate today?
-How is OJ Simpson's book outlining how he would have murdered his own wife not considered a more interesting cultural object?
-How did Monica Lewinsky become the villain in the Clinton scandal?
-Why is Taylor Swift popular?
God help me, I never thought I would say this, but one of the book's most interesting essays was about Machiavelli.
Klosterman pushes a theory that the villain is the person in any situation who knows the most and cares the least. A situation, dear reader, that I am well aware of.
At a workplace a group of us were talking about the inadequacy of maternity leave. How short it was, how it was difficult to manage, and so on, and we were discussing how it seems as though the main goal is to prevent employees from giving birth.
I said, "Well, you know what they should do? They should just put 'hysterectomy patients preferred' right on the application. At least that way they'd be honest."
A co-worker looked at me and in all seriousness said, "I don't understand how anyone has ever dated you."
Which was kind of hurtful, and honestly upsetting because I felt like I was just quantifying what the policy said, granted in an outlandish and ridiculous way, but I wasn't actually SAYING that people who had functioning uteruses (uteri?) should seek employment elsewhere.
What happened was that I knew the most and was therefore able to sum it up, but also came off as caring the least because I joked about the topic. I found myself the villain even though I agreed that the maternity leave was inadequate and also said something about it that was directed to highlight the ridiculousness.
The Machiavelli essay is about the idea that Machiavelli may not have been in any way Machiavellian, and that history has started to uncover the idea that The Prince was satire, not a how-to book on being a dick to get ahead. Yet, Machiavelli will be remembered for being the guy who knew how to be a dick and get ahead. Even if he doesn't use that knowledge, just his ability to put himself in that frame of mind and think along those lines makes people question his goodness.
It's an idea that's false, but also happens almost 100% of the time in practice.
If I pose a bizarre idea, like the idea that I invented the perfect artificial heart, and in Iron-Man-like fashion a light shines through the recepient's chest, and everything is perfect except that this light is in the shape of a swastika, when I pose that idea people never say, "That WOULD be weird" or "That would be a strange world" or "I wonder what a Holocaust survivor would do when faced with a tough decision". Instead, they say, "Why do you think about this stuff?" They turn it back on whoever came up with it, ignoring the fact that I clearly recognize myself how insane that entire situation is.
Frankly, I shudder to think what other people are doing in their heads all day if not thinking of strange scenarios. What are you guys thinking about in there? What you packed for lunch? What you're wearing and how you feel about it? High school?
So, I guess by Chuck Klosterman's definition, I'm semi-evil.
But you know what? I'm in good company with Machiavelli. We're very alike in our own little way. Granted, he wrote an all-time philosophical classic while I just made nyuck-nyucks about a grave surgical procedure. But it's definitely as close as I'm going to get.
June 11, 2024
I really enjoy Klosterman’s writing: he is incredibly smart, insightful and funny, and I really enjoyed this book. I find the topic fascinating. So why, might you ask, did it get 3 stars instead of 4 or 5? Well, the answer is both simple and kind of silly. I rated it lower because I read it at the wrong time. And here I really mean the wrong time in terms of dates, not ‘time� in the sense that I wasn’t in the right headspace for it. You see, this was published in 2007, and many essays in this book are now extremely dated and could do with a major update.
The way he writes about Kanye, Sarah Palin, Bill Clinton and Taylor Swift simply don’t make sense anymore, and reading about how those things were 15-ish years ago felt kind of cringey. I suppose this is inevitable when one writes about pop culture: things change fast, and the last 5 years alone have been eventful, to say the least. Some of the essays stand the test of time, of course (few things have changed about Aleister Crowley, for instance), but I often felt taken out of my reading bubble when he would mention a celebrity whose trajectory has considerably changed since the publication date.
Aside from that, the book is a very interesting exploration at the various factors that influence the way we, as a society, feel about and react to people who do objectively bad stuff. Some villains get a pass because they are handsome, famous or rich, obviously, but other factors and biases sometimes influence our perceptions, and while this is unlikely to change, I think it’s a fascinating thought-exercise to pick at why we give way more attention to some villains and not others.
I will also admit that I had an expectation bias when I picked up this book, and because it wasn’t met, I felt a tad disappointed. I am not sure why, but I fully expected this book to discuss fictional villains in pop culture way more than I expected an essay about the LA Raiders (I also couldn’t care less about football, which doesn’t help in holding my interest). He does briefly mention Walter White, but we had a very solid era of anti-heroes in film and television in the 2000s and 2010s. I wanted to talk about Don Draper, BoJack Horseman, Loki, Magneto, Barry: am I a bigger nerd than Chuck Klosterman that this is what I care about?
I guess this review and my reactions to this book says a lot more about me than it does about the book. I would really love an updated version, though: I’d be curious to know what Klosterman thinks makes a villain now, after the Me Too movement, after the Trump administration, after covid�
The way he writes about Kanye, Sarah Palin, Bill Clinton and Taylor Swift simply don’t make sense anymore, and reading about how those things were 15-ish years ago felt kind of cringey. I suppose this is inevitable when one writes about pop culture: things change fast, and the last 5 years alone have been eventful, to say the least. Some of the essays stand the test of time, of course (few things have changed about Aleister Crowley, for instance), but I often felt taken out of my reading bubble when he would mention a celebrity whose trajectory has considerably changed since the publication date.
Aside from that, the book is a very interesting exploration at the various factors that influence the way we, as a society, feel about and react to people who do objectively bad stuff. Some villains get a pass because they are handsome, famous or rich, obviously, but other factors and biases sometimes influence our perceptions, and while this is unlikely to change, I think it’s a fascinating thought-exercise to pick at why we give way more attention to some villains and not others.
I will also admit that I had an expectation bias when I picked up this book, and because it wasn’t met, I felt a tad disappointed. I am not sure why, but I fully expected this book to discuss fictional villains in pop culture way more than I expected an essay about the LA Raiders (I also couldn’t care less about football, which doesn’t help in holding my interest). He does briefly mention Walter White, but we had a very solid era of anti-heroes in film and television in the 2000s and 2010s. I wanted to talk about Don Draper, BoJack Horseman, Loki, Magneto, Barry: am I a bigger nerd than Chuck Klosterman that this is what I care about?
I guess this review and my reactions to this book says a lot more about me than it does about the book. I would really love an updated version, though: I’d be curious to know what Klosterman thinks makes a villain now, after the Me Too movement, after the Trump administration, after covid�
August 13, 2013
I am ordinarily a fan of Chuck Klosterman's but I didn't particularly care for this book. Honestly, in many ways it felt lazy. This is, I suppose, what happens when you're demanded to reproduce pretty much the exact same type of book over and over again. Often throughout the book, Klosterman jerks the reader out of the thread of whatever thought he's presenting to reveal a bit too much of his thought process. As someone whose day job it is to see rough drafts, I don't really need to see behind this particular curtain.
I think i agree with Ben that each chapter had an interesting point or thought in it, but the chapters didn't really hang together as a whole -- though his Hitler chapter was actually pretty good. (I mean, you have to write about HItler if you're going to write about villains, don't you?)
I'd say skip this one. Klosterman's written better books if you're interested in his stuff.
I think i agree with Ben that each chapter had an interesting point or thought in it, but the chapters didn't really hang together as a whole -- though his Hitler chapter was actually pretty good. (I mean, you have to write about HItler if you're going to write about villains, don't you?)
I'd say skip this one. Klosterman's written better books if you're interested in his stuff.
January 29, 2015
I'm a big Chuck Klosterman fan, from SPIN to many of his books on pop culture. He's started writing novels to (in my opinion) mixed success ... so I was glad when I saw that he's releasing a new book of essays. It comes out in July but I was able to get a galley copy, which I eagerly gobbled up over the Memorial Day weekend.
I Wear the Black Hat is an analysis of villains - real and imagined. From Darth Vader to N.W.A. to, of course, Adolf Hitler (his essay is mostly about how he HAS to write about Hitler and knows he can't do it without it becoming a disaster, which is the only part he gets wrong), Klosterman shows us why we as a culture have grown to LOVE the villain, instead of root against him. I wasn't completely convinced - and then, I thought about the - and at least half of them feature a main character (or characters) who were seriously flawed, downright evil or just objectively, not good guys. We are fascinated by falls from grace, we root for Tony Soprano, Omar Kelly and Walter White as much as or MORE than we ever rooted for typical protagonists. The "anti-hero" is perhaps the most common role in most movies, TV shows and art these days.
Klosterman also has a not particularly unique insight into the role that good looks play in our culture (after describing his own looks as "weird"), something that is no doubt true and though it is somewhat well-trodden ground, he does add his usual spin on things. I particularly liked his essay about Bill Clinton*, in which he outlines all the players in the Lewinsky scandal and notes that after all of this, Bill Clinton (who, objectively, did some really villainous things) came out not particularly damaged. In fact, his popularity among women is about 66%. (*Figuring out Chuck Klosterman's politics has long been very tough - he's clearly NOT a partisan hack, and leans both ways on certain issues. In todays world, that's worth noting whenever politics get involved.)
I Wear the Black Hat is a return to form for Klosterman, and will be enjoyable for any fan of his, or even a casual fan interested in the subject matter. As Klosterman says, that's pretty much all of us.
I Wear the Black Hat is an analysis of villains - real and imagined. From Darth Vader to N.W.A. to, of course, Adolf Hitler (his essay is mostly about how he HAS to write about Hitler and knows he can't do it without it becoming a disaster, which is the only part he gets wrong), Klosterman shows us why we as a culture have grown to LOVE the villain, instead of root against him. I wasn't completely convinced - and then, I thought about the - and at least half of them feature a main character (or characters) who were seriously flawed, downright evil or just objectively, not good guys. We are fascinated by falls from grace, we root for Tony Soprano, Omar Kelly and Walter White as much as or MORE than we ever rooted for typical protagonists. The "anti-hero" is perhaps the most common role in most movies, TV shows and art these days.
Klosterman also has a not particularly unique insight into the role that good looks play in our culture (after describing his own looks as "weird"), something that is no doubt true and though it is somewhat well-trodden ground, he does add his usual spin on things. I particularly liked his essay about Bill Clinton*, in which he outlines all the players in the Lewinsky scandal and notes that after all of this, Bill Clinton (who, objectively, did some really villainous things) came out not particularly damaged. In fact, his popularity among women is about 66%. (*Figuring out Chuck Klosterman's politics has long been very tough - he's clearly NOT a partisan hack, and leans both ways on certain issues. In todays world, that's worth noting whenever politics get involved.)
I Wear the Black Hat is a return to form for Klosterman, and will be enjoyable for any fan of his, or even a casual fan interested in the subject matter. As Klosterman says, that's pretty much all of us.
August 1, 2013
I first encountered Chuck Klosterman's writing when I was college aged, and at the time I really enjoyed his work, because I've always liked conversational writing and his essays were similar to conversations I might be having with my media-saturated friends. A few years went by, however, and I became less interested in having those sort of abstract conversations because they often seemed like they went nowhere; there were so many exceptions to every rule and so many rules for every exception that these discussions almost always felt circular, and when people on each side of the table ended up defending the point they were arguing against at the beginning they were definitively circular. At that time of my life I ended up feeling that Klosterman was the sort of guy who would find an interesting topic but wouldn't always say anything important about it. A decade plus into my adult life I find that I rarely talk with people about imprecise ideas (like "what is evil"), and I often find Klosterman's style so amorphous that I suspect that there isn't much "there" there in most of his essays.
Klosterman is up front about the fact that he is not particularly interested in people as individuals - he's interested in the traits and conflicts that those human beings represent in our cultural imagination. This is problematic in a lot of ways - for one I think it undermines a lot of his arguments, because treating specific real people as if they were literary creations designed to illustrate the Platonic ideal of a behavior gives me a sense that he doesn't understand what actual human beings are, which kind of dents his credibility as an explainer of human behavior - but the biggest issue is that it forces him to frame the discussions he wants to have in very abstract ways.
After all, if you're not talking about a person but rather how a society views a person (which is necessarily abstract and conflicting, since most of society doesn't actually know that person and probably doesn't agree with all of the other people that don't know that person), and you're using them as an example of an abstract phenomenon (like "being arrogant"), then you're taking something imprecise and dissecting it to get at something amorphous. So what kind of hard conclusions is that going to offer?
Not that Klosterman is interested in hard conclusions. Like any Socratic philosopher, or any jerk at a party who wants to get away with pushing people's buttons because he's "just asking questions", Klosterman is ultimately looking at dilemmas that he doesn't really want to answer, or which he thinks might not really have an answer at all, or whose various answers are simultaneously incompatible and mutually necessary. There are times when that's compelling; there are always going to be a lot of irreconcilable facts that are going to pop up as roadblocks in any serious ethical discussion. But there are other times when it just comes across as myopic, like when Klosterman argues that OJ Simpson and Kareem Abdul Jabbar are similar because they both don't go by their full Christian names (even though OJ wasn't really trying to hide what "OJ" stood for) and went to college in America's most populous state in the same decade before admitting that being unpopular because you murdered two people is a little different from being unpopular because you don't look happy when you're giving an interview to a hostile interviewer.
I think the issue really comes down to Klosterman's inability to focus: most of these essays are so interspliced with tangents that are so tangential the narrative thread is easily lost. For example, his essay about who is really to blame in the Monica Lewinsky scandal is interrupted by a discussion of the movie Basic Instinct, despite the fact that Clinton's closest connection to the movie is that he might have seen it and has probably met some of it's stars at different events. I guess both the movie and the scandal are about lust, but I'm unclear how the lust of a fictional black widow-ish character directly correlates to Bill Clinton's lust, in that the femme fatale at the heart of Fatal Instinct derived her power from her sexual proclivities and Bill Clinton was always in danger of losing his power because of his sexual proclivities. (And also one of those people is real and thus very complicated, and the other is completely fictional and thus infinitely less complicated.) That divergent path really distracts from what could have been an interesting examination of how people did or did not apportion blame in that scandal.
Still, that's not to say that I don't still see Klosterman's appeal. He's still a funny writer, and most of the topics he tackles are topics that I think about and want to read about. When he does make a relevant point it does intrigue me, and this book certainly has its share of relevant points. It's just that the older I get, the less interested I am in looking at other people as moving automatons whose main reason for existence is to illustrate something to me about the world and the more it seems like Klosterman is interested in nothing but that.
Klosterman is up front about the fact that he is not particularly interested in people as individuals - he's interested in the traits and conflicts that those human beings represent in our cultural imagination. This is problematic in a lot of ways - for one I think it undermines a lot of his arguments, because treating specific real people as if they were literary creations designed to illustrate the Platonic ideal of a behavior gives me a sense that he doesn't understand what actual human beings are, which kind of dents his credibility as an explainer of human behavior - but the biggest issue is that it forces him to frame the discussions he wants to have in very abstract ways.
After all, if you're not talking about a person but rather how a society views a person (which is necessarily abstract and conflicting, since most of society doesn't actually know that person and probably doesn't agree with all of the other people that don't know that person), and you're using them as an example of an abstract phenomenon (like "being arrogant"), then you're taking something imprecise and dissecting it to get at something amorphous. So what kind of hard conclusions is that going to offer?
Not that Klosterman is interested in hard conclusions. Like any Socratic philosopher, or any jerk at a party who wants to get away with pushing people's buttons because he's "just asking questions", Klosterman is ultimately looking at dilemmas that he doesn't really want to answer, or which he thinks might not really have an answer at all, or whose various answers are simultaneously incompatible and mutually necessary. There are times when that's compelling; there are always going to be a lot of irreconcilable facts that are going to pop up as roadblocks in any serious ethical discussion. But there are other times when it just comes across as myopic, like when Klosterman argues that OJ Simpson and Kareem Abdul Jabbar are similar because they both don't go by their full Christian names (even though OJ wasn't really trying to hide what "OJ" stood for) and went to college in America's most populous state in the same decade before admitting that being unpopular because you murdered two people is a little different from being unpopular because you don't look happy when you're giving an interview to a hostile interviewer.
I think the issue really comes down to Klosterman's inability to focus: most of these essays are so interspliced with tangents that are so tangential the narrative thread is easily lost. For example, his essay about who is really to blame in the Monica Lewinsky scandal is interrupted by a discussion of the movie Basic Instinct, despite the fact that Clinton's closest connection to the movie is that he might have seen it and has probably met some of it's stars at different events. I guess both the movie and the scandal are about lust, but I'm unclear how the lust of a fictional black widow-ish character directly correlates to Bill Clinton's lust, in that the femme fatale at the heart of Fatal Instinct derived her power from her sexual proclivities and Bill Clinton was always in danger of losing his power because of his sexual proclivities. (And also one of those people is real and thus very complicated, and the other is completely fictional and thus infinitely less complicated.) That divergent path really distracts from what could have been an interesting examination of how people did or did not apportion blame in that scandal.
Still, that's not to say that I don't still see Klosterman's appeal. He's still a funny writer, and most of the topics he tackles are topics that I think about and want to read about. When he does make a relevant point it does intrigue me, and this book certainly has its share of relevant points. It's just that the older I get, the less interested I am in looking at other people as moving automatons whose main reason for existence is to illustrate something to me about the world and the more it seems like Klosterman is interested in nothing but that.
January 11, 2014
Pop culture reference, incoherent rambling, unchecked narcissism, pop culture reference, incoherent rambling, pop culture reference, end.
July 4, 2013
Chuck Klosterman looks at the character type of the villain, both in real world figures and imagined, and surmises that a villain is someone who knows the most and cares the least. It sounds like a simple idea but becomes more complex as you think about it. He uses a number of examples to highlight his point and one of the first is Niccolo Machiavelli. Machiavelli, if you know him at all, is famous for writing The Prince, a book about political theory. The Prince is controversial as it makes Machiavelli appear not just incredibly cynical but evil too in the way he advocates ruthless domination for a ruler over every other form of governance. Klosterman argues, convincingly, that Machiavelli wasn’t saying that this was his preference but that this was his observation of how the real world worked having spent his career as a diplomat seeing how politics actually operated. That his book was used and influenced any number of shady characters is not his fault and yet we have his name as a term describing a backstabbing, conniving person today. Machiavelli was not Machiavellian.
In this way he argues that George W Bush was not a villain (gasp!) because he didn’t know the most (that would be Dick Cheney) and he seemed to care at least a bit (unlike Cheney), whereas Joe Paterno will be remembered as a villain because he knew about Jerry Sandusky’s sick life but chose not to do anything about it, ie. caring the least.
Other examples Klosterman uses to explore the nuances that go along with the way we see villains include Mohamed Atta, one of the 9/11 hijackers who is justly reviled by all, and DB Cooper, another plane hijacker who in 1971 pulled off the only unsolved case of air piracy ever - and yet is seen favourably, almost like a folk hero (possibly because no one was hurt in his hijacking with the likely exception of himself, seeing as he was never seen again after he leapt out of a plane at night). Klosterman makes the thoughtful observation that if a person has confidence, no matter the crime then they are the hero even if they should be the villain.
He lost me at one point when discussing Batman. He wants us to imagine Batman is real and doing what he does in the comics in real life (all well and good) but then ruins his thought-experiment by comparing Batman to Bernhard Goetz, a mad, gun toting lunatic who shot several young black men in the early 80s who were going to rob him. He tries to make a connection saying that Bernhard was obsessed with squirrels and Batman with bats and both are vigilantes, but it seemed like a long shot and felt like Klosterman was going off of the movie Batman rather than comics Batman (aka the real Batman). But he does make the interesting point that “when considering the vigilante, the way we think about fiction contradicts how we think about reality� which is definitely true.
Despite this hiccup, the book is a really great read for the most part as he continues his thesis by looking at Bill Clinton, Don Henley, Snidely Whiplash, and OJ Simpson and comes up with fresh, clever perspectives on all of them through the prism of his villain argument. Klosterman’s background as a music critic though never fails to come through in his books and I Wear The Black Hat is no exception. In one pointless chapter he spends several pages telling you which bands he disliked each year for 20 years from the mid 80s to the mid 00s! After reading the book I’m struggling to see how this connected to the overall villain thesis but worse, it’s easily the most boring, self-indulgent tangent in the book.
However, “boring� is something that this book rarely is and reading the essays in I Wear The Black Hat is a highly enjoyable experience. Klosterman writes lucidly and articulately, especially as he is aware that he at times uses words that inhibit some of his audience’s understanding of his points (he is loquacious and eloquent at the same time, sometimes to the writer’s downfall). If you enjoy informative pop culture discussions especially one involving the dissection of what a villain is and isn’t, I Wear The Black Hat is for you.
I liked it so much I tied it to the train tracks while rubbing my pencil thin moustache - BWHAHAHAHA!
In this way he argues that George W Bush was not a villain (gasp!) because he didn’t know the most (that would be Dick Cheney) and he seemed to care at least a bit (unlike Cheney), whereas Joe Paterno will be remembered as a villain because he knew about Jerry Sandusky’s sick life but chose not to do anything about it, ie. caring the least.
Other examples Klosterman uses to explore the nuances that go along with the way we see villains include Mohamed Atta, one of the 9/11 hijackers who is justly reviled by all, and DB Cooper, another plane hijacker who in 1971 pulled off the only unsolved case of air piracy ever - and yet is seen favourably, almost like a folk hero (possibly because no one was hurt in his hijacking with the likely exception of himself, seeing as he was never seen again after he leapt out of a plane at night). Klosterman makes the thoughtful observation that if a person has confidence, no matter the crime then they are the hero even if they should be the villain.
He lost me at one point when discussing Batman. He wants us to imagine Batman is real and doing what he does in the comics in real life (all well and good) but then ruins his thought-experiment by comparing Batman to Bernhard Goetz, a mad, gun toting lunatic who shot several young black men in the early 80s who were going to rob him. He tries to make a connection saying that Bernhard was obsessed with squirrels and Batman with bats and both are vigilantes, but it seemed like a long shot and felt like Klosterman was going off of the movie Batman rather than comics Batman (aka the real Batman). But he does make the interesting point that “when considering the vigilante, the way we think about fiction contradicts how we think about reality� which is definitely true.
Despite this hiccup, the book is a really great read for the most part as he continues his thesis by looking at Bill Clinton, Don Henley, Snidely Whiplash, and OJ Simpson and comes up with fresh, clever perspectives on all of them through the prism of his villain argument. Klosterman’s background as a music critic though never fails to come through in his books and I Wear The Black Hat is no exception. In one pointless chapter he spends several pages telling you which bands he disliked each year for 20 years from the mid 80s to the mid 00s! After reading the book I’m struggling to see how this connected to the overall villain thesis but worse, it’s easily the most boring, self-indulgent tangent in the book.
However, “boring� is something that this book rarely is and reading the essays in I Wear The Black Hat is a highly enjoyable experience. Klosterman writes lucidly and articulately, especially as he is aware that he at times uses words that inhibit some of his audience’s understanding of his points (he is loquacious and eloquent at the same time, sometimes to the writer’s downfall). If you enjoy informative pop culture discussions especially one involving the dissection of what a villain is and isn’t, I Wear The Black Hat is for you.
I liked it so much I tied it to the train tracks while rubbing my pencil thin moustache - BWHAHAHAHA!
November 15, 2014
My appreciation of Chuck Klosterman's writing is both sincere and self-serving: he writes about things I also care about (although I'll admit he influenced my perception of culture), he uses a language I understand very well and doesn't seem burdened by the academic obsession to be objectively right. Reading his books give me analytics superpowers, although I can't seem to sustain them without being intellectually fed. In a couple weeks, I won't be able to write reviews like this anymore.
In many ways, I WEAR THE BLACK HAT is the logical sequel to my favourite Chuck Klosterman essay (in Eating the Dinosaur) where he struggles with his conscience after reading The Unabomber Manifesto. This might be a pattern emerging, but it's the second collection of essays where Klosterman's pieces seem to be increasingly personal. The collections starts cold and surgical, but it gets increasingly personal and doubtful. I love this. Klosterman expresses his doubt of being a good person because he cannot make peace with his overbearing ego. It's a courageous (and maybe a little strategic) thing to say in an essay where you're trying to sell your ideas and it make other people who are self-conscious about making peace with their overbearing ego (such as myself) feel less alone
I WEAR THE BLACK HAT is another triumph by Chuck Klosterman. I wish he keeps writing essays with the same intellectual voracity for years and years, although I wish him a satisfying but limited success, so that his ideas and thought process don't get engulfed by the mutant beast of culture in the internet age. I wish him to always remain a beautiful anomaly. Does that make me a bad person to not wish him limitless fame and money?
In many ways, I WEAR THE BLACK HAT is the logical sequel to my favourite Chuck Klosterman essay (in Eating the Dinosaur) where he struggles with his conscience after reading The Unabomber Manifesto. This might be a pattern emerging, but it's the second collection of essays where Klosterman's pieces seem to be increasingly personal. The collections starts cold and surgical, but it gets increasingly personal and doubtful. I love this. Klosterman expresses his doubt of being a good person because he cannot make peace with his overbearing ego. It's a courageous (and maybe a little strategic) thing to say in an essay where you're trying to sell your ideas and it make other people who are self-conscious about making peace with their overbearing ego (such as myself) feel less alone
I WEAR THE BLACK HAT is another triumph by Chuck Klosterman. I wish he keeps writing essays with the same intellectual voracity for years and years, although I wish him a satisfying but limited success, so that his ideas and thought process don't get engulfed by the mutant beast of culture in the internet age. I wish him to always remain a beautiful anomaly. Does that make me a bad person to not wish him limitless fame and money?
August 13, 2013
"It's natural to think of one's own life as a novel (or a movie or a play), and within that narrative we are always the central character. Thoughtful people try to overcome this compulsion, but they usually fail (in fact, trying makes it worse). In a commencement speech at Kenyon College, David Foster Wallace argued that conquering the preoccupation with self is pretty much the whole objective of being alive - but if we are to believe Wallace succeeded at this goal, it must be the darkest success imaginable. I'm far less confidant than DFW. I don't think it's feasible (I think people can pretend to do it, but they can't pretend to themselves). I have slowly come to believe that overcoming this self-focused worldview is impossible, and that life can be experienced only through an imaginary mirror that allows us to occupy the center of a story no one is telling..."
This paragraph proceeds to conclude in a manner propelling it to the forefront of my favorite Klosterman pieces, and I have long been a fan. It's ironic, this paragraph, in that Klosterman believes he's revealing a sensitive truth yet this token vulnerability is vastly eclipsed by the sense you've just been short-changed for the last 198 pages, that this author who is capable of such a sublime notion just wasted half your day connecting Batman to Bubba's blowjob. But Klosterman is like movie theater candy: something about the oversize box or the faintly exotic brands make him delightful even if you're more of a popcorn guy. I now possess a 1000% knowledge surplus concerning the rapper Eazy-E, but Klosterman has a way of cleaning out his closet of cultural flotsam that causes one to linger all afternoon at the ensuing yard sale.
I would recommend that someone, somewhere compare Klosterman's long-running exegesis on eighties' bands to the infamous Bret Easton Ellis deconstruction of Huey Lewis and the News in American Psycho, but if it hasn't already been done the only person with the chops to do it would be Klosterman himself. Which would in fact put him in a mirror at the center of a story that he is telling.
This paragraph proceeds to conclude in a manner propelling it to the forefront of my favorite Klosterman pieces, and I have long been a fan. It's ironic, this paragraph, in that Klosterman believes he's revealing a sensitive truth yet this token vulnerability is vastly eclipsed by the sense you've just been short-changed for the last 198 pages, that this author who is capable of such a sublime notion just wasted half your day connecting Batman to Bubba's blowjob. But Klosterman is like movie theater candy: something about the oversize box or the faintly exotic brands make him delightful even if you're more of a popcorn guy. I now possess a 1000% knowledge surplus concerning the rapper Eazy-E, but Klosterman has a way of cleaning out his closet of cultural flotsam that causes one to linger all afternoon at the ensuing yard sale.
I would recommend that someone, somewhere compare Klosterman's long-running exegesis on eighties' bands to the infamous Bret Easton Ellis deconstruction of Huey Lewis and the News in American Psycho, but if it hasn't already been done the only person with the chops to do it would be Klosterman himself. Which would in fact put him in a mirror at the center of a story that he is telling.
September 21, 2018
A través de una decena de ensayos, Chuck Klosterman da vueltas a varias características que convierten en villanos a personajes públicos y de ficción. Es particularmente incisivo a la hora de explorar las contradicciones detrás de la atracción y repulsión que nos producen, y al aportar nuevas ópticas a figuras trilladas, caso de la conexión entre los vigilantes reales, personificados a través de Bernhard Goetz, y los ficticios (El justiciero de la noche / Batman); o por qué Bill Clinton fue quien mejor parado salió de su fallido proceso de destitución.
A la hora de exponer cada caso, se nota el dominio que Klosterman tiene tanto de la cultura popular yanqui como del discurso; ligeramente iconoclasta e irónico, ingenioso al introducir una nueva idea cuando el tema parecía agotado y dando pie a una alternativa que insufla aire fresco, sin entrar demasiado a fondo no vaya a ser que el lector casual le abandone. Algún ejemplo es demasiado local (ah, el fútbol americano) y se echa en falta algún texto que conecte las diferentes visiones y que quite la sensación de que cada pieza va un poco por su cuenta. Pero he disfrutado mucho, con el libro y las pequeñas pullas detrás de muchos de sus capítulos, caso del dedicado al éxito de Seinfeld o las últimas páginas cuando Klosterman se pone a sí mismo (y al propio lector por extensión) como villano en un giro inesperado e incisivo.
Muy recomendable para los exploradores de la cultura popular y sus vínculos con la actualidad del día a día.
A la hora de exponer cada caso, se nota el dominio que Klosterman tiene tanto de la cultura popular yanqui como del discurso; ligeramente iconoclasta e irónico, ingenioso al introducir una nueva idea cuando el tema parecía agotado y dando pie a una alternativa que insufla aire fresco, sin entrar demasiado a fondo no vaya a ser que el lector casual le abandone. Algún ejemplo es demasiado local (ah, el fútbol americano) y se echa en falta algún texto que conecte las diferentes visiones y que quite la sensación de que cada pieza va un poco por su cuenta. Pero he disfrutado mucho, con el libro y las pequeñas pullas detrás de muchos de sus capítulos, caso del dedicado al éxito de Seinfeld o las últimas páginas cuando Klosterman se pone a sí mismo (y al propio lector por extensión) como villano en un giro inesperado e incisivo.
Muy recomendable para los exploradores de la cultura popular y sus vínculos con la actualidad del día a día.
August 14, 2013
This study of pop-culture villainy (and evil) is a mixed bag.
A strong introduction and a conclusion that rises gradually to a sublimely satisfying end make up for a meandering middle, where the book seems to lose focus and spend an inordinate amount of time reviewing the author's musical taste and early memories of popular culture. Read as a book, I'm not sure the author ever truly makes his point (indeed, by the end I'm fairly sure he's convinced himself that he's not made his point) - but read as a series of independent essays, the chapters are interesting and entertaining considerations of morality and public perception, and each contains a cogent, interesting argument about why each of the subjects should or should not be respected as 'villains'.
The sections on Kim Dotcom, Ronald Regan, and Hitler are definitely the highlights of the book - all of which are in the latter half, and so this is definitely a book which rewards perseverance.
The writing is witty, engaging, and pleasantly informal, throughout - with many a pleasing turns-of-phrase and aside that keeps the interest, even through the books many diversions.
Read as a serious debate about what could be a fascinating topic, the book is lacking. Read as some light, if thought provoking, trivia, the book achieves its goals and is a good, enjoyable read.
A strong introduction and a conclusion that rises gradually to a sublimely satisfying end make up for a meandering middle, where the book seems to lose focus and spend an inordinate amount of time reviewing the author's musical taste and early memories of popular culture. Read as a book, I'm not sure the author ever truly makes his point (indeed, by the end I'm fairly sure he's convinced himself that he's not made his point) - but read as a series of independent essays, the chapters are interesting and entertaining considerations of morality and public perception, and each contains a cogent, interesting argument about why each of the subjects should or should not be respected as 'villains'.
The sections on Kim Dotcom, Ronald Regan, and Hitler are definitely the highlights of the book - all of which are in the latter half, and so this is definitely a book which rewards perseverance.
The writing is witty, engaging, and pleasantly informal, throughout - with many a pleasing turns-of-phrase and aside that keeps the interest, even through the books many diversions.
Read as a serious debate about what could be a fascinating topic, the book is lacking. Read as some light, if thought provoking, trivia, the book achieves its goals and is a good, enjoyable read.
January 2, 2014
Okay, so...not exactly what I was expecting. Look back and you'll see I have laughed, screamed, and fallen in complete adoration over his past works, but this one is just "eh".
In one of the essays Klosterman talks about how all comediennes ultimately want to be taken seriously, fulfill more roles other than the ones that made them famous and that is exactly what's happened here. Which is not to say Klosterman has ever considered himself a stand up comic, but lets be honest here, most of essays were easier to digest thanks to his sarcastic humor and witty pop culture references. So again, it wasn't what I expected, but it is just as interesting as his past works. Just don't expect to enjoy it anymore than you would were attending a lecture from the cool, new hip teacher...informative, thought-provoking and completely devoid of related giggles.
In one of the essays Klosterman talks about how all comediennes ultimately want to be taken seriously, fulfill more roles other than the ones that made them famous and that is exactly what's happened here. Which is not to say Klosterman has ever considered himself a stand up comic, but lets be honest here, most of essays were easier to digest thanks to his sarcastic humor and witty pop culture references. So again, it wasn't what I expected, but it is just as interesting as his past works. Just don't expect to enjoy it anymore than you would were attending a lecture from the cool, new hip teacher...informative, thought-provoking and completely devoid of related giggles.
January 17, 2022
As always, impressing me with his wide variety of knowledge on vastly different ideas, topics, subcultures, etcetera. This one is about villains, the less conventional type in the real world. Quite an intriguing read; If nothing else, it will at least have you seeing various current events/cultural symbols in a new way, even if you disagree with his views. He always does his research, always presents it in a scientific but intelligent way.
As a somewhat unrelated note, however nice his nonfiction works are, I still prefer his novels to them.
As a somewhat unrelated note, however nice his nonfiction works are, I still prefer his novels to them.
May 15, 2014
Read it all in one sitting! I got this at Christmas, and you'd think I hadn't wanted to read it or something, but I just barely started the first chapter during holidays. I finally had some time lately (and no comics on my pile!) so I went back and started fresh.
Klosterman has been one of my faves since I read 'Killing Yourself to Live' nearly a decade ago. Oddly, I remember not liking his SPIN columns, but that's probably because I was in High School and I like to think I was a bit smarter after I finished University (a bit I say, not a ton).
This is exactly what it says in the title: Grappling with villains. He examines what makes a modern villain, and the settings in which we see them (he's careful not to use the word context though, as that's a different thing). What follows covers everything from Batman and Charles Bronson in Death Wish, to OJ versus Kareem, Clinton and Lewinsky, Fred Durst, the Eagles, and a ton of other things.
As always, the man awes me with his knowledge of pop-culture. He's almost a decade older than me, but I find I relate to him and am on a similar page most of the time. I like to think I know quite a bit about a lot of things, but wow.
If you enjoyed any of his stuff in the past, then I probably don't need to convince you. If you're unfamiliar, this is a fairly quick read (less than 6 hrs) and covers a lot of ground. I would just tell you to read everything he's put out, but you have to start somewhere...I've found everything to be a page-turner, and his writing to be thought-provoking and measured.
He's also the Ethicist for the NY Times, so obviously he's no slouch. I still feel he would be a blast to sit down and conversate with for hours on end. This book just re-enforced that even more.
Highly Recommended.
Klosterman has been one of my faves since I read 'Killing Yourself to Live' nearly a decade ago. Oddly, I remember not liking his SPIN columns, but that's probably because I was in High School and I like to think I was a bit smarter after I finished University (a bit I say, not a ton).
This is exactly what it says in the title: Grappling with villains. He examines what makes a modern villain, and the settings in which we see them (he's careful not to use the word context though, as that's a different thing). What follows covers everything from Batman and Charles Bronson in Death Wish, to OJ versus Kareem, Clinton and Lewinsky, Fred Durst, the Eagles, and a ton of other things.
As always, the man awes me with his knowledge of pop-culture. He's almost a decade older than me, but I find I relate to him and am on a similar page most of the time. I like to think I know quite a bit about a lot of things, but wow.
If you enjoyed any of his stuff in the past, then I probably don't need to convince you. If you're unfamiliar, this is a fairly quick read (less than 6 hrs) and covers a lot of ground. I would just tell you to read everything he's put out, but you have to start somewhere...I've found everything to be a page-turner, and his writing to be thought-provoking and measured.
He's also the Ethicist for the NY Times, so obviously he's no slouch. I still feel he would be a blast to sit down and conversate with for hours on end. This book just re-enforced that even more.
Highly Recommended.
March 6, 2014
Geez I wish ŷ would introduce half stars - my rating would actually be 3.5 and I didn't want to appear 'villainous' or stingy and give it a three. So it's a glass half-full for me and I upped the ante to 4 stars.
My perceived good deed of the day and I'm feeling alright about that! Ha!
This was an interesting little book on short stories on the authors reflections on what makes a person a villain. Or, for that matter, what is the actual definition of a villain and if it is a universal definition or perception - or it's all in the eye of the beholders. The stories started strong I thought and would have loved to have another person to talk about them. But that did not happen. Regardless, it would be a fun book to discuss some of the ideas - maybe a great party idea! Invite your friends and while you imbibe, discuss what makes a villain and who the worst villain in sports or music is. Not just the usual bad boys that are attention seekers - but the truly evil spirits out there. It would be kind of interesting! Might even make you lose a few friends too. See who likes to stir the pot, so to speak.
Anyways, it was a good chuckle and had some thought provoking scenarios too. Worth some fun. Might be you will find out how your friends think - or how you think - and isn't that just interesting!
My perceived good deed of the day and I'm feeling alright about that! Ha!
This was an interesting little book on short stories on the authors reflections on what makes a person a villain. Or, for that matter, what is the actual definition of a villain and if it is a universal definition or perception - or it's all in the eye of the beholders. The stories started strong I thought and would have loved to have another person to talk about them. But that did not happen. Regardless, it would be a fun book to discuss some of the ideas - maybe a great party idea! Invite your friends and while you imbibe, discuss what makes a villain and who the worst villain in sports or music is. Not just the usual bad boys that are attention seekers - but the truly evil spirits out there. It would be kind of interesting! Might even make you lose a few friends too. See who likes to stir the pot, so to speak.
Anyways, it was a good chuckle and had some thought provoking scenarios too. Worth some fun. Might be you will find out how your friends think - or how you think - and isn't that just interesting!
August 10, 2013
I have never read any of Klosterman's material (apart from a small article that accompanied my Dazed & Confused DVD). I just thought that I would find him a quasi-David Foster Wallace-type. However, the concept of his new book intrigued me and eventually I found myself hooked in. This book is fantastic. Klosterman brandishes his pop culture chops in a case study on what makes a villain a villain. He ranges from fictional characters to historical figures to pro athletes to celebrities. No one is safe under his gaze. But rather than pointing the finger, Klosterman elaborates to the point of familiarity with these people. This concept may put some off this book, but then again, that is what every good study should have. Rather than endlessly quote Foucault, Jung, Chomsky, (ad nauseam) like too many cultural theorists, Klosterman brings a fresh and original perspective. It is not about taking someone else's theory, it is about finding your own. And I liked this book for that. A pop culture junkie could find many great moments in this book like I did. And dare I say, it does allow for one to examine their own dark insights. For a short book, it sure was a great read. The only complaint I have is that the last chapter of this book was a bit unnecessary.
July 12, 2014
So much to love and learn in this book, Klosterman the inimitable strikes again. I think the best way to review this is to give you a few of his own words and you should trust me that the surrounding text makes these quotables even better. "If a villain is the one who knows the most and cares the least..." (p. 23)
"When considering the vigilante, the way we think about fiction contradicts how we feel about reality. Which should not be unanticipated or confusing, yet somehow always is." (p. 65)
And my personal favorite, and something I must adapt to a bumper sticker:
"Everyone knows history is written by the winners, but that cliché misses a crucial detail: over time, the winners are always the progressives; Conservatism can only win in the short term, because society cannot stop evolving (and social evolution inevitably dovetails with the agenda of those who see change as an abstract positive.) YEAH!!!
"When considering the vigilante, the way we think about fiction contradicts how we feel about reality. Which should not be unanticipated or confusing, yet somehow always is." (p. 65)
And my personal favorite, and something I must adapt to a bumper sticker:
"Everyone knows history is written by the winners, but that cliché misses a crucial detail: over time, the winners are always the progressives; Conservatism can only win in the short term, because society cannot stop evolving (and social evolution inevitably dovetails with the agenda of those who see change as an abstract positive.) YEAH!!!
December 13, 2013
Klosterman makes sweeping, unsupported generalizations and assumes the audience will agree with him. The radical shifts between too much evidence for inconsequential details and no evidence for important points made this book difficult to follow and impossible to take seriously.
August 12, 2013
I was going to go into how much I hated it, because I think that would be a bit funny, but instead will just say meh.
September 10, 2013
If reading a college Sophomore's C+ Sociology paper lights your fire, this book is for you. Otherwise, punch yourself in the face and have a more fun and logical evening!
July 19, 2013
Several years ago, I was home with the flu and stuck in front of the television, watching cable (which my wife would discontinue shortly afterwards), glued to an eight-hour marathon of "Teen Mom." Watching the girls struggle with their children wasn't the real horrifying part (although it was horrifying enough, especially when watching . What was really horrifying was watching their numbskull boyfriends/husbands fuck up so spectacularly, then stare at the floor and mumble while they got chewed out over their failure to do such elementary tasks as come home after work to help out with the kid, or chip in for groceries, or not blast country music while the kid was sleeping.
When my wife got home that day, I stumbled upstairs from the basement where I'd been recuperating, hugged her carefully, and told her I loved her.
She cocked an eyebrow at me sardonically. "What did you do?"
"Nothing," I assured her. "I only just realized what I could do."
Maybe I was highly suggestive because of all the Ny Quil, but for an eight-hour stretch, I became/reverted/transmorgrified into a late teens/early twenties father, emotionally stunted, with responsibilities my maturity hadn't yet caught up with. For that day, I knew I was capable of anything short of putting cigarettes out on my kid's favorite toy. That's the closest I ever came to empathy with the indefensible.
Chuck Klosterman, in I Wear the Black Hat, draws similar comparisons between his own behavior and the villains he profiles in this rambling, conversational thesis on the nature of villainy. He'd probably characterize my identification with the male protagonists of "Teen Mom" as akin to Kareem Abdul Jabar's inability to pretend to be anything but himself, which invites hatred. Or maybe I'm a passive/aggressive NWA, provoking a reaction in order to determine the narrative spun about me. Or maybe I'm just
Klosterman discusses archetypes of villainy seemingly at random; in no other book will you see the likes of al Jabar compared with O.J. Simpson in terms of popular appeal, and I've never come across anyone drawing a line between Berhhard Goetz's subway shootings and the rooftop vigilantism of Batman. But his argument, while somewhat tediously taxonomized in places, is consistent, and wonderfully reductive: no matter the circumstances, the crime, the medium or the historical era, you can distinguish the villains as the ones who know plenty, but care little.
So why do we hate them? he goes on to ask. Or why do we hate some more than others (Bill Clinton vs. Dick Nixon, say, or Perz Hilton vs. Julian Assange). How villainous are we ourselves? How do these attitudes manifest themselves in Metallica lyrics lifted from King Diamond? And so on.
Klosterman is sort of my go-to guy for cultural riffs on Stuff I Should Know Better Than I Do. He assumes we know all about the Lewinsky scandal, but then goes ahead and tells us the story all over again. Ditto the Simpson trial, the Wikileaks saga and the Paterno scandal. That gets annoying. But I'm glad I had him to explain the likes of Kim Dotcom, the conflict between the novel Death Wish and its movie version, and the rivalry story behind Ice Cube, Easy E and Dr. Dre--about all that, I was clueless. And I guarantee I wouldn't have bothered to look up his sports references (being somewhat pathologically adverse to sports myself), and thus would have missed out on quite a bit. The traits we see in history's accepted villains become even more interesting and telling when set up against entire heady froth of the entertainment industry overall.
Klosterman is erudite about the consequential and inconsequential alike. I've never come across a writer who can pull a line from Empire Strikes Back and turn it into an adjective (although, Chuck, baby, I think it's "nerf herder," two words, as in "one who herds nerfs") to describe his own dorkiness. He makes some perfunctory passes at some rather large premises early on in the book to drive further conclusions, the most notable of which seem to be that we're mostly not in control of the people we turn out to be (which, curiously but unsurprisingly, is a premise he leaves untouched in his discussion of Adolph Hitler). Presuppositions like these allow him to assert things like "(Andrew Dice Clay) had the wrong fans at the wrong time. He was mostly himself, but not totally. Somebody had to pay for how the world had changed." And there's another gem like this: in his discussion of why he hates the Eagles, Kloserman finally concludes that, though they are worthy of disdain, the real problem is himself. "They seem like counterculture figures who were against the values of the counterculture...They were annoying to the type of person who is susceptible to the annoying...But here's what changed, inside my skull: Those qualities no longer made me hate (Don Henley) or his band. Instead, they make me appreciate (their music) with a complexity I cannot pretend to understand. They make me realize that I cannot be trusted about anything, and that I can't even trust myself."
If that's the case, how does this absolution of taste transfer to the moral realm? Klosterman discusses mass murderers, just-murderes, the depraved, the despicable and the discontent cheek and jowl with each other. Are they off the hook as well? He doesn't say. That's the omission I tripped over, though perhaps I'm not being fair. Maybe he distinguishes between artistic taste development and complete moral depravity. But such a distinction doesn't seem in character for him.
I'm not always one hundred percent sure what his point is, and apparently I'm not alone--even his wedding planner made Klosterman himself isn't adverse to pointing out his own potential misreadings about TV shows and what not. But again--his litmus test for villains and testing of it against whatever pop cultural detritus is swimming around in his brain never fails to engage. I can't tell what his opinion of himself turned into after this investigation, but my own actually increased a smidge. More than makes up for that "Teen Mom" binge.
When my wife got home that day, I stumbled upstairs from the basement where I'd been recuperating, hugged her carefully, and told her I loved her.
She cocked an eyebrow at me sardonically. "What did you do?"
"Nothing," I assured her. "I only just realized what I could do."
Maybe I was highly suggestive because of all the Ny Quil, but for an eight-hour stretch, I became/reverted/transmorgrified into a late teens/early twenties father, emotionally stunted, with responsibilities my maturity hadn't yet caught up with. For that day, I knew I was capable of anything short of putting cigarettes out on my kid's favorite toy. That's the closest I ever came to empathy with the indefensible.
Chuck Klosterman, in I Wear the Black Hat, draws similar comparisons between his own behavior and the villains he profiles in this rambling, conversational thesis on the nature of villainy. He'd probably characterize my identification with the male protagonists of "Teen Mom" as akin to Kareem Abdul Jabar's inability to pretend to be anything but himself, which invites hatred. Or maybe I'm a passive/aggressive NWA, provoking a reaction in order to determine the narrative spun about me. Or maybe I'm just
Klosterman discusses archetypes of villainy seemingly at random; in no other book will you see the likes of al Jabar compared with O.J. Simpson in terms of popular appeal, and I've never come across anyone drawing a line between Berhhard Goetz's subway shootings and the rooftop vigilantism of Batman. But his argument, while somewhat tediously taxonomized in places, is consistent, and wonderfully reductive: no matter the circumstances, the crime, the medium or the historical era, you can distinguish the villains as the ones who know plenty, but care little.
So why do we hate them? he goes on to ask. Or why do we hate some more than others (Bill Clinton vs. Dick Nixon, say, or Perz Hilton vs. Julian Assange). How villainous are we ourselves? How do these attitudes manifest themselves in Metallica lyrics lifted from King Diamond? And so on.
Klosterman is sort of my go-to guy for cultural riffs on Stuff I Should Know Better Than I Do. He assumes we know all about the Lewinsky scandal, but then goes ahead and tells us the story all over again. Ditto the Simpson trial, the Wikileaks saga and the Paterno scandal. That gets annoying. But I'm glad I had him to explain the likes of Kim Dotcom, the conflict between the novel Death Wish and its movie version, and the rivalry story behind Ice Cube, Easy E and Dr. Dre--about all that, I was clueless. And I guarantee I wouldn't have bothered to look up his sports references (being somewhat pathologically adverse to sports myself), and thus would have missed out on quite a bit. The traits we see in history's accepted villains become even more interesting and telling when set up against entire heady froth of the entertainment industry overall.
Klosterman is erudite about the consequential and inconsequential alike. I've never come across a writer who can pull a line from Empire Strikes Back and turn it into an adjective (although, Chuck, baby, I think it's "nerf herder," two words, as in "one who herds nerfs") to describe his own dorkiness. He makes some perfunctory passes at some rather large premises early on in the book to drive further conclusions, the most notable of which seem to be that we're mostly not in control of the people we turn out to be (which, curiously but unsurprisingly, is a premise he leaves untouched in his discussion of Adolph Hitler). Presuppositions like these allow him to assert things like "(Andrew Dice Clay) had the wrong fans at the wrong time. He was mostly himself, but not totally. Somebody had to pay for how the world had changed." And there's another gem like this: in his discussion of why he hates the Eagles, Kloserman finally concludes that, though they are worthy of disdain, the real problem is himself. "They seem like counterculture figures who were against the values of the counterculture...They were annoying to the type of person who is susceptible to the annoying...But here's what changed, inside my skull: Those qualities no longer made me hate (Don Henley) or his band. Instead, they make me appreciate (their music) with a complexity I cannot pretend to understand. They make me realize that I cannot be trusted about anything, and that I can't even trust myself."
If that's the case, how does this absolution of taste transfer to the moral realm? Klosterman discusses mass murderers, just-murderes, the depraved, the despicable and the discontent cheek and jowl with each other. Are they off the hook as well? He doesn't say. That's the omission I tripped over, though perhaps I'm not being fair. Maybe he distinguishes between artistic taste development and complete moral depravity. But such a distinction doesn't seem in character for him.
I'm not always one hundred percent sure what his point is, and apparently I'm not alone--even his wedding planner made Klosterman himself isn't adverse to pointing out his own potential misreadings about TV shows and what not. But again--his litmus test for villains and testing of it against whatever pop cultural detritus is swimming around in his brain never fails to engage. I can't tell what his opinion of himself turned into after this investigation, but my own actually increased a smidge. More than makes up for that "Teen Mom" binge.
June 19, 2024
Although the theme was hard to identify consistently throughout the book, Klosterman’s writing is still engaging and witty. I think the author was trying to ramp up to all of the essays to be an indictment on himself, but that idea seemed forced in at the end.
August 2, 2013
How do you properly rate an uneven book of essays? Do you assign it the star rating of the high points, the value it most consistently hits or just knock off marks for the worst parts?
First the bad. For a book that's 199 pages, there's some stuff in here that just doesn't work. Admittedly, some of it might be because it just doesn't culturally resonate. For example, the chapter on Andrew Dice Clay and the changing of political correctness in the country just doesn't hang together. The chapter on music and the Eagles doesn't feel like it's really talking about a villain and the Batman versus Bernhard Goetz is dredging up a cultural relic that feels dated and not as interesting. A later chapter that's more a compendium of different mini-essays has some amusing high points (Fred Durst and Howard Cossel) but discussions of Alesiter Crowley and Jared Loughner feel thrown in. I also have to raise a categorical objection to a book called "I Wear the Black Hat" that doesn't even talk about Breaking Bad (though hopefully that gets added for the paperback after the show wraps up).
Some essays also suffer a bit from trying to do too much. The N.W.A. chapter ends up also working in the Raiders and an unnecessary tangent about Lars Von Trier. The essay on Perez Hilton, Kim Dotcom, and Julian Assange hangs together better, but feels like there's some interesting thoughts on piracy (Dotcom) sandwiched between less interesting thoughts on Hilton and Assange.
What's odd in looking back at the book is that no one essay is actually that great. But that a number have interesting or thoughtful tidbits that are worth ruminating on. The presentation of how someone can appear villainous or charismatic depending on context is a somewhat obvious observation but still makes for an interesting discussion. The discussion of Snidely Whiplash as the ultimate villain because tying women to trains is so uncaring is amusing while being too cute by half. I enjoyed his discussion of how Bill Clinton should be seen as villainous but isn't. And I'm also fairly impressed that he managed to come up with what I saw as an interesting observation about Hitler as the stand-in for pure evil given that no one ever wants to go back in time and kill Judas the man who betrayed the person that a huge chunk of the planet believes is the son of their god. The notion that we presume niceness as part of social norms but attribute badness immediately to some bigger plot. I didn't enjoy the Kareem vs. O.J. chapter as much as Kate did--the O.J. parts were kind of interesting but I didn't feel like the observations about Kareem were quite as thought out. For example, Bill Russell has a somewhat similar reputation as being prickly given that he won't sign autographs, etc. But he's beloved even without amusing cameos in Airplane or New Girl.
In the end, I think Klosterman ends up doing what he does a lot--his never-ending crusade to empathize with or at least understand pretty much anything. The result makes for great contrarianism, but it also can get tiresome after awhile as it means that each essay you know he's going to slowly work together something that creates some new way of looking at a situation that is if not more sympathetic at least makes things seem more rational.
I started this review thinking I would likely assign the book four stars, but wait until I finished writing about it before deciding. But the more I think about the observations inside of the stuff around them that isn't as good, I'm more inclined to give this three stars.
First the bad. For a book that's 199 pages, there's some stuff in here that just doesn't work. Admittedly, some of it might be because it just doesn't culturally resonate. For example, the chapter on Andrew Dice Clay and the changing of political correctness in the country just doesn't hang together. The chapter on music and the Eagles doesn't feel like it's really talking about a villain and the Batman versus Bernhard Goetz is dredging up a cultural relic that feels dated and not as interesting. A later chapter that's more a compendium of different mini-essays has some amusing high points (Fred Durst and Howard Cossel) but discussions of Alesiter Crowley and Jared Loughner feel thrown in. I also have to raise a categorical objection to a book called "I Wear the Black Hat" that doesn't even talk about Breaking Bad (though hopefully that gets added for the paperback after the show wraps up).
Some essays also suffer a bit from trying to do too much. The N.W.A. chapter ends up also working in the Raiders and an unnecessary tangent about Lars Von Trier. The essay on Perez Hilton, Kim Dotcom, and Julian Assange hangs together better, but feels like there's some interesting thoughts on piracy (Dotcom) sandwiched between less interesting thoughts on Hilton and Assange.
What's odd in looking back at the book is that no one essay is actually that great. But that a number have interesting or thoughtful tidbits that are worth ruminating on. The presentation of how someone can appear villainous or charismatic depending on context is a somewhat obvious observation but still makes for an interesting discussion. The discussion of Snidely Whiplash as the ultimate villain because tying women to trains is so uncaring is amusing while being too cute by half. I enjoyed his discussion of how Bill Clinton should be seen as villainous but isn't. And I'm also fairly impressed that he managed to come up with what I saw as an interesting observation about Hitler as the stand-in for pure evil given that no one ever wants to go back in time and kill Judas the man who betrayed the person that a huge chunk of the planet believes is the son of their god. The notion that we presume niceness as part of social norms but attribute badness immediately to some bigger plot. I didn't enjoy the Kareem vs. O.J. chapter as much as Kate did--the O.J. parts were kind of interesting but I didn't feel like the observations about Kareem were quite as thought out. For example, Bill Russell has a somewhat similar reputation as being prickly given that he won't sign autographs, etc. But he's beloved even without amusing cameos in Airplane or New Girl.
In the end, I think Klosterman ends up doing what he does a lot--his never-ending crusade to empathize with or at least understand pretty much anything. The result makes for great contrarianism, but it also can get tiresome after awhile as it means that each essay you know he's going to slowly work together something that creates some new way of looking at a situation that is if not more sympathetic at least makes things seem more rational.
I started this review thinking I would likely assign the book four stars, but wait until I finished writing about it before deciding. But the more I think about the observations inside of the stuff around them that isn't as good, I'm more inclined to give this three stars.
April 1, 2014
Chuck Klosterman ends his latest book about villainy like a backwards reel of Sideways. I love that film but nearly left the theatre after the first and trivial ten minutes. I Wear the Black Hat: Grappling with Villains (Real and Imagined) (2013) was enjoyable until I realized the non-import of what I was reading, because the book ends without any insight on villains.
It could partly be me, a statement Klosterman would laud as he repeats an opening dictum that “context is everything.� I am not Klosterman’s audience. I needed Google for around half the ubiquitous cultural references, and even his generalizations (“you’re probably thinking …�) are off. Like telling me my decision to not own a TV is either outdated elitism or poverty/depression. Can’t it just be time-saving?
No, context is not nearly everything: Klosterman chose a grandiose thesis, that “the villain is the person who knows the most but cares the least,� and fails to follow with a topical collection. Klosterman ostensibly writes about villains and does not name more than a handful of real ones. The book is about famous people called villains but who are mostly unlikable sports stars, broadcasters, musicians, and comedians.
Why so few actual villains? Or, why any at all? This could have been a good book about pseudo-villains, the kind whom people love to hate for ridiculous reasons. But Klosterman mixes essays on Jerry Sandusky and Adolf Hitler with Perez Hilton and Coldplay, producing a sludge of both serious commentary that does not touch the pulse of pure villainy, and non-serious that by contrast, feels superfluous and even dishonest (are you suggesting a bigger point than you have by the dash of really evil names?).
There already exists a framework to define the real-life super-villain. It’s a list of the crimes of all crimes, and it’s found in the Rome Statute of the International Criminal Court. The multinational architects of the ICC built the Court precisely for the world’s super-villains. The Rome Statue went live in 1998, at the end of a decade notorious for genocide in the former Yugoslavia and Rwanda, and simultaneously at the end of a century defined by the horror of experimental communism and the Holocaust. The world witnessed largescale villainy and tabulated the worst of the worst as four crimes: genocide, crimes against humanity, war crimes, and the crime of aggression.
Through the prism of these deeds, what do real villains know most and care least for? Did Pol Pot know that killing Cambodia’s intellectuals would not bring progress? And the genocidal leaders in Rwanda and Burundi, did they know Hutu and Tutsi were indistinguishable? Did Idi Amin know Uganda’s real societal scourge, but call it the Asians anyway? Does Bashar al-Assad know that Syria’s stability does not depend on his leadership? Because if so, then what?
My work on refugee issues involves talking to people forced to flee the actions of powerful people, and I know a lot about villains. But I don’t understand them. Klosterman could have attempted that and written a fine book. To do that, he needed to wear the Black Hat.
It could partly be me, a statement Klosterman would laud as he repeats an opening dictum that “context is everything.� I am not Klosterman’s audience. I needed Google for around half the ubiquitous cultural references, and even his generalizations (“you’re probably thinking …�) are off. Like telling me my decision to not own a TV is either outdated elitism or poverty/depression. Can’t it just be time-saving?
No, context is not nearly everything: Klosterman chose a grandiose thesis, that “the villain is the person who knows the most but cares the least,� and fails to follow with a topical collection. Klosterman ostensibly writes about villains and does not name more than a handful of real ones. The book is about famous people called villains but who are mostly unlikable sports stars, broadcasters, musicians, and comedians.
Why so few actual villains? Or, why any at all? This could have been a good book about pseudo-villains, the kind whom people love to hate for ridiculous reasons. But Klosterman mixes essays on Jerry Sandusky and Adolf Hitler with Perez Hilton and Coldplay, producing a sludge of both serious commentary that does not touch the pulse of pure villainy, and non-serious that by contrast, feels superfluous and even dishonest (are you suggesting a bigger point than you have by the dash of really evil names?).
There already exists a framework to define the real-life super-villain. It’s a list of the crimes of all crimes, and it’s found in the Rome Statute of the International Criminal Court. The multinational architects of the ICC built the Court precisely for the world’s super-villains. The Rome Statue went live in 1998, at the end of a decade notorious for genocide in the former Yugoslavia and Rwanda, and simultaneously at the end of a century defined by the horror of experimental communism and the Holocaust. The world witnessed largescale villainy and tabulated the worst of the worst as four crimes: genocide, crimes against humanity, war crimes, and the crime of aggression.
Through the prism of these deeds, what do real villains know most and care least for? Did Pol Pot know that killing Cambodia’s intellectuals would not bring progress? And the genocidal leaders in Rwanda and Burundi, did they know Hutu and Tutsi were indistinguishable? Did Idi Amin know Uganda’s real societal scourge, but call it the Asians anyway? Does Bashar al-Assad know that Syria’s stability does not depend on his leadership? Because if so, then what?
My work on refugee issues involves talking to people forced to flee the actions of powerful people, and I know a lot about villains. But I don’t understand them. Klosterman could have attempted that and written a fine book. To do that, he needed to wear the Black Hat.
July 4, 2013
I’ve been reading Chuck Klosterman since his column in Spin magazine. I loved how he had so much to say about things I’d never even thought of before. (And I think a lot.) One of my favorite articles was about how The Darkness would never be sufficiently appreciated in the US because, in America, bands can either be good or funny (but not both). Maybe I’m not a true American, then, because I love bands that have that perfect blend of talent and humor � like The Darkness, yes, or Flight of the Conchords. I mean, how can you not love those guys?
But back to Chuck. I next encountered his writing when I grabbed a copy of Sex, Drugs, and Cocoa Puffs, which I’ve read multiple times and which remains my favorite of his works. (My future sister-in-law borrowed my copy a few years ago and never returned it…guess it’s time to re-buy!). Klosterman can rant and rave like no other, and I love hearing what he has to say, even when I disagree.
That’s how it was with I Wear the Black Hat. It’s a fascinating descent into the examination of villains and that suggests that maybe they’re not as bad as we think they are � or maybe they’re even worse. From Machiavelli to Bill Clinton to Batman, Klosterman examines the qualities, both good and bad, that the human race is willing to tolerate in others. At what point, exactly, does someone become a villain? Why?
While I can see where he’s coming from in some areas, there’s this thing Klosterman does where he stands by his argument even when it starts to unravel a bit, when there’s something he wants to use as evidence that doesn’t logically support his claims. In fact, at these times he seems to hold on to his opinions even more tightly, even as they’re falling apart around him. Or maybe I just feel that way because those are the times when I disagree, so everything feels shabbier to me. Regardless, Klosterman is the guy at the bar who never shuts up, but you don’t mind. In fact, you don’t want him to. You want to hear his thoughts, both good and bad, because they make you examine yourself and your own ideas that much more closely. And for this, to him I tip my (black) hat.
All in all: Thought-provoking, funny, and absolutely worth reading. Better than much of his recent stuff, in my opinion.
But back to Chuck. I next encountered his writing when I grabbed a copy of Sex, Drugs, and Cocoa Puffs, which I’ve read multiple times and which remains my favorite of his works. (My future sister-in-law borrowed my copy a few years ago and never returned it…guess it’s time to re-buy!). Klosterman can rant and rave like no other, and I love hearing what he has to say, even when I disagree.
That’s how it was with I Wear the Black Hat. It’s a fascinating descent into the examination of villains and that suggests that maybe they’re not as bad as we think they are � or maybe they’re even worse. From Machiavelli to Bill Clinton to Batman, Klosterman examines the qualities, both good and bad, that the human race is willing to tolerate in others. At what point, exactly, does someone become a villain? Why?
While I can see where he’s coming from in some areas, there’s this thing Klosterman does where he stands by his argument even when it starts to unravel a bit, when there’s something he wants to use as evidence that doesn’t logically support his claims. In fact, at these times he seems to hold on to his opinions even more tightly, even as they’re falling apart around him. Or maybe I just feel that way because those are the times when I disagree, so everything feels shabbier to me. Regardless, Klosterman is the guy at the bar who never shuts up, but you don’t mind. In fact, you don’t want him to. You want to hear his thoughts, both good and bad, because they make you examine yourself and your own ideas that much more closely. And for this, to him I tip my (black) hat.
All in all: Thought-provoking, funny, and absolutely worth reading. Better than much of his recent stuff, in my opinion.
January 4, 2018
Not worth the read. I picked up this book after my wife read it for her book club. I guess it was the title and the dark cover with the black hat and mustache. The subject of evil in the world is certainly one of importance and new and interesting ideas are welcome. Unfortunately, I found none here.
I have not read this author before, or I might have skipped the book. One reviewer was impressed with the breadth of his knowledge, and he does seem to know a lot about a certain subset of information. unfortunately, he is an expert in pop culture. The only subject less important is this review.
The Buddha taught that we live in a world of illusion, a concept which many of us find hard to understand. Isn't there really a computer here before me? Aren't I a real person who is alive and takes nourishment? Of course, but your illusion about who you are, no matter who you are, is much more grounded than Chuck Klosterman's opinions about various rock groups from the 1980's and 90's. Who cares which rock groups he hated and why? The point is that in a book about "grappling with villains (real and imagined)" he decided to include people like Van Halen's David Lee Roth and Bruce Springsteen. Maybe to a teenage mind these were people to hate because of their style or their behavior, but they were hardly villains. This man lives in a totally artificial and illusory world of interest only to others who live the illusion with him. I am not his audience.
Finally he grapples with the subject of Hitler. "Should I write about Hitler?" he worries. Then he writes about the problems of writing about Hitler. This was probably one of his more insightful essays, but in the end, I think the answer is, no. He should not write about Hitler.
I have not read this author before, or I might have skipped the book. One reviewer was impressed with the breadth of his knowledge, and he does seem to know a lot about a certain subset of information. unfortunately, he is an expert in pop culture. The only subject less important is this review.
The Buddha taught that we live in a world of illusion, a concept which many of us find hard to understand. Isn't there really a computer here before me? Aren't I a real person who is alive and takes nourishment? Of course, but your illusion about who you are, no matter who you are, is much more grounded than Chuck Klosterman's opinions about various rock groups from the 1980's and 90's. Who cares which rock groups he hated and why? The point is that in a book about "grappling with villains (real and imagined)" he decided to include people like Van Halen's David Lee Roth and Bruce Springsteen. Maybe to a teenage mind these were people to hate because of their style or their behavior, but they were hardly villains. This man lives in a totally artificial and illusory world of interest only to others who live the illusion with him. I am not his audience.
Finally he grapples with the subject of Hitler. "Should I write about Hitler?" he worries. Then he writes about the problems of writing about Hitler. This was probably one of his more insightful essays, but in the end, I think the answer is, no. He should not write about Hitler.
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