Publisher's Weekly Review
"I ain't got no quarrel with them Vietcong," Ali said in 1967 on refusing to be drafted. He was sentenced to five years in prison, and though the Supreme Court would overturn his conviction four years later, principle lost himÄtemporarilyÄhis title, big bucks, the support of many admirers and the best years of his fighting life. Vietnam postdates most of New Yorker editor Remnick's (Lenin's Tomb) coverage, as he writes little about Ali in the post-Sonny Liston era. At its best, the book recalls the boxing writings of A.J. Liebling, while Remnick's frequent use of Ali's hilarious "rapper" doggerel adds to the melancholy humor through which he describes the Louisville kid who beat gambling odds on the way to the heavyweight title but couldn't beat the medical odds. "The history of [prize] fighters," Remnick writes, "is the history of men who end up damaged." Only in his middle 50s, the once graceful Ali, last seen worldwide clutching the Atlanta Olympic torch in a trembling hand, is disabled by degenerative Parkinson's disease. To many, though, he was disabled even earlier by his conversion to Elijah Muhammad's Nation of Islam, which, whatever its controversial separatist image, "orders [Ali's] life and helps him cope with his illness," according to Remnick. The author smartly records Ali's defiant besting of adversaries in and out of the ring and shows him to be a champion human being. 16 pages of b&w photos. (Nov.) (c) Copyright PWxyz, LLC. All rights reserved
Kirkus Review
A literate, intelligent evocation of the great heavyweight champion. Remnick (Resurrection, 1997, etc.), the Pulitzer Prize winner who is now editor of the New Yorker, opens--wisely--with the September 1962 fight between Floyd Patterson and Sonny Liston. His profiles of both men are remarkable studies of the sociological backdrop for Ali's entrance upon the scene. Patterson was cast as the good, bumble Negro aligned with God; Liston, an ex-con who worked as an enforcer for the mob, as the big, bad, scary black. The brash, poetry-spouting Cassius Clay (as he was still known) fit neither stereotype. Despite his 1960 Olympic gold medal, his obvious speed, and his boxing skills, sportswriters hated the impudent young fighter. He was ""considered. . . little more than a light-hitting loudmouth."" Clay was no one's pick to steal the title from the overpowering Liston. Remick does a fantastic job of setting the stage for that February 1964 fight, noting that even Clay's people had their doubts: One insider merely hoped ""that Clay wouldn't get hurt."" The jabbering, taunting Clay pummeled the plodding, dispirited Liston, who simply quit after the sixth round. It was shortly after the fight that Ali's association with the Nation of Islam was revealed. His friendship with Malcolm X and his espousal of the Black Muslim creed, along with his promotional rantings of ""I am the greatest!,"" did not endear him to the public. But he kept winning, beating Liston yet again in 1965 in the most controversial hit in heavyweight history. Remnick's reenactment of that one-punch, ""phantom punch"" knockout in the first round is brilliant. Remnick tails off with Ali's 1967 refusal of the military draft and his subsequent suspension, not going into quite enough depth to explain Ali's virtual canonization by the American press and public. But no matter: This is a great look at ""a warrior who came to symbolize love. Copyright ©Kirkus Reviews, used with permission.
Booklist Review
David Remnick, author of the Pulitzer Prize^-winning Lenin's Tomb (1993), describes the opening moments of Muhammad Ali's first fight with Sonny Liston, when the then Cassius Clay began his signature dance, "moving in and out, his head twitching from side to side, as if freeing himself from a neck crick early in the morning, easy and fluid." The bull-like Liston lunged with a jab, which missed by two feet: "At that moment, Clay hinted at what . . . he was about to introduce to boxing and to sports in general--the marriage of mass and velocity." In this completely fresh and utterly compelling account of Ali's early career--through his refusal to be inducted into the army ("I ain't got no quarrel with them Vietcong")--Remnick manages to capture what has largely eluded a host of other starstruck writers (Mailer, et al.): a balanced mix of the myth and the reality of Ali, a sense of how the gestalt of a nation in transition happened to land on the beautiful brown shoulders of a cocky young man from Louisville. How does Remnick do it? By avoiding the tendency to become swept away, as Mailer was, by Ali as metaphor and, instead, by carefully turning the soil of his early years and, especially, by looking closely at the supporting players in the drama of those first fights. Remnick's portraits of Floyd Patterson, the sensitive champion, beloved by civil-rights advocates (but, ultimately, despised by Ali) and of Sonny Liston, the evil bear, are not only remarkably humanizing, stereotype-shattering character studies in their own right but also make us realize more clearly than ever just how subversive Ali's unique mix of flamboyance, commitment, and playfulness must have seemed to an establishment mindset comfortable only with the polarized view of blacks symbolized by Patterson and Liston. "I'm free to be what I want," Ali declared when he joined the Nation of Islam, and if such declarations have become the stuff of cliche today, fodder for The Jerry Springer Show, they were anything but that in 1964, when the howls of press and public made clear that, in most minds, Ali was only free to be . . . Sonny Liston or Floyd Patterson. This is the best book ever on Muhammad Ali and one of the best on America in the 1960s. --Bill Ott
Choice Review
Pulitzer Prize-winning author and New Yorker editor Dave Remnick places the original Cassius Clay, who changed the world of sports and went on to change himself as Mohammed Ali, in a category with the great sports figures before him--Babe Ruth, Jack Johnson, Joe DiMaggio, and Joe Louis. Ali's would become the most recognized face on the earth. This book combines the authority of an expert with the lyricism of an admirer who remembers how Clay refused the old stereotypes and the glad hand of the boxing mob, insisted on his political views, his new religion, and eventually a new name--a rebellion that nearly cost him the opportunity to fight for the world heavyweight championship. The text features some of the pivotal figures and political events of the 1960s. A great book written by a master storyteller, a book worthy of America's most dynamic modern hero. This is highly readable for all--light but provocative, simple but genuine. Recommended for all libraries. H. F. Kenny Jr. Wesleyan University
Library Journal Review
Having taken on Lenin (in the Pulitzer Prize-winning Lenin's Tomb), Remnick takes on another "king." (c) Copyright 2010. Library Journals LLC, a wholly owned subsidiary of Media Source, Inc. No redistribution permitted.