Review: Miller's Luck – Roland Perry

I entered into this book with trepidation. For a long time I have been searching for a Keith Miller biography that was not this effort by Roland Perry, with no luck. One of the great cricket writers David Frith was scathing in his review of Perry's work, citing multiple factual errors that grated on him. Similar reviews have been provided by Gideon Haigh and even right here.  I scoured second hand book stores where all that was on their shelves were multiple copies of Miller's Luck by Roland Perry.

Deflated that my searching had come to nothing I swallowed my pride, took my desire to find out more about Miller and lifted a copy from the local library's shelf. As I found out as I read it a previous borrower had too become so frustrated with errors (though their frustrations were World War II facts) that they had taken to the book with a pen themselves!


Without even re-hashing the factual inaccuracies of the work, simply put this biography is deplorably written. Rather than a study of a complex and polarising character, Perry serves up 500 pages of hero worship that just completely turns you off as you read. Miller was a tremendous all-round cricketing talent and a war veteran who escaped death multiple times (often due his own insubordination). However he also was a heavy drinker, addicted gambler and constant philanderer that makes the overriding rhetoric of hero worship difficult to justify.

As a cricketing talent he could easily be worshipped; a war veteran, definitely respected. Limited to discussion primarily on these two topics such a subjective take on the man could well be accepted. But the reality was that for all the success Miller had on field it clearly came at a very heavy cost to his family which is an indictment on the man, an impression that Perry has not sufficiently captured and in fact missed completely.

Because of the books length and quantity of information provided (despite factual errors) the dedicated and discerning reader has the opportunity to draw their own conclusions about Miller and his life. Absolutely, the descriptions of Miller's love affair with Lords and the tremendous innings he played there during the post war years make me long to travel back in time, but in all the book fails on a number of fronts. No Balls.

Cover Imaqe Thanks To www.randomhouse.com.au

Review: Doctor Who: City at World's End - Christopher Bulis

Since receiving my first Doctor Who novelization in 1986 (the much-misunderstood The Gunfighters), I’ve managed to collect a rather surprising amount of Who-related books; fiction and non-fiction, real-world production information and plain, simple fantasy. I don’t read them much anymore (this is the first Who book reviewed on BwB), but occasionally delve into one to really get a feel for my teen years again.

And City at World’s End is almost certainly the worst Doctor Who novel I’ve read, and I’ve read the ultimate testament to fanboy continuity-geekdom, War of the Daleks. City, by Christopher Bulis, was one of the earlier BBC Books attempts to carry on the Doctor’s adventures while the TV show was on hiatus between 1989-2005.

Who took on a life of it’s own after the ’89 cancellation, as books describing “Missing” or “New” adventures of the Time Lord were published by various enterprises. Many of these (cough, War of the Daleks, cough) came straight from fanboys and were astonishing in their ability to turn one line of dialogue from a single episode broadcast in 1973 into entire 279-page novels. (For some reason, novelizations of the original serials – two 23-minute long episodes or ten - were almost always fit into 127-page books; for the New/Missing adventures it’s 279).

It’s this kind of backstory which explains the Who dichotomy. Because of it’s wonderfully simply and unique format, Who-fiction can be purely derivative stuff, completely original – and is often both. Take for example the 2007 broadcast stories “Human Nature” and “Family of the Blood”. These stories were written by Paul Cornell, who adapted his 1995 novel “Human Nature” to suit the reimagined series’ head honcho Russell T. Davies’ story arc allowing the Doctor’s nemesis to be re-born.

It turns out that the Master appeared in a story (Utopia) very much like this one – a group of humans building a rocket to escape their world’s apocalypse, all the time under threat by hostile aliens. I hope RTD wasn’t aware of this book when plotting Utopia, because the series deserves much better. City at World’s End is an appalling piece of fiction – even if, in embryo, the idea has merit.

City is remarkably poorly put together. It’s as transparent as a glass of water and features several (alleged) subplots which are both boring, useless – thus, utterly flawed – before they all converge nowhere. Typical Whoniverse “religion is blind and corrupt” themes (cf. 1984’s Planet of Fire) aren’t so much hinted at as shouted from the mountain tops. There’s nothing wrong with a simple plot, as long as it’s paced well – a great example of this is the early Bond novels.

Pity is, we’ve covered most of our review space and haven’t even gotten to the words yet. The “adventure” is headlined by the original TARDIS crew of the Doctor (as portrayed by William Hartnell), his granddaughter Susan as well as English schoolteachers Ian and Barbara. Hartnell, whose mannerisms should make writing for him a relative doddle (as compared to the real, as opposed to remembered, Tom Baker years) is characterized less as a gentleman traveler and speaks words like a bored telephone sales operative.

Bulis throws about verbs like a ham-fisted bun vendor and completely fails to apply any sense of urgency to what we’re told is a desperate situation. He even trots out that “give every clue it’s a main character, but don’t refer to them by name until the very end of the chapter” hackneyed crap. The prelude (and first half of the book) were of such stunning shoddiness that I only continued reading so as to see a) how bad it could get and b) how much I could pan it in a review.

Much of these flaws can be repaired, however, given a good editing job. Unfortunately, being able to poke so many holes is almost every aspect of the book means the editor (at that time one of Stephen Cole or Justin Richards) must have been on a horrible deadline, as the book is laughably incoherent. By now, the series (of books) was obviously being run by the fan-boys on Adamsian-style deadlines.

In short, the book doesn’t deserve even half of the column inches I’ve devoted to it. Sorry. Who fiction can be very good – try Davies’ Damaged Goods or even Terrance Dicks’ Players – but this is just awful. Don’t let it put you off, but don’t bother to read it. No balls.

For more Doctor Who reviews, visit Who. Reviewed.

Review: How The Mighty Fall – Jim Collins

I am a big fan of the work that Jim Collins and his colleagues have done over an extended period up until now. This more recent work, 'How the Mighty Fall' (HTMF), is an extension of what was delivered in their previous work 'Good to Great' (GTG), which itself was an extension of the even earlier work 'Built to Last' (BTL). In reviewing HTMF I am torn between awarding it the extreme rating at either end of the Books with Balls scale, therefore with brazen cheek I am going to award it both 'Basketballs' and 'No Balls' at the same time. I will begin with the negative take on the book.

Cover image thanks to bookdepository.co.uk

No Balls – As I mentioned earlier HTMF is a further extension on previous research published by Collins. Collins is a self titled 'student of companies' seeking to truly understand what makes them tick. BTL began by asking the question for the reader 'why is it that some companies have been around for such extended periods?' Post this GTG extended the analysis by asking 'what is the difference between a good company (that still may be a household name), and a truly great one?' Now lately the question of HTMF was 'why is it that the seemingly infallible company can actually fail?'

This was a piece of research begun prior to 2008 global economic struggles, yet by the time it was published (in 2008) actually spoke with seeming clarity on the state of the world economy at the time. My criticism of HTMF is simple, having read both BTL and GTG previously I am unsure of what is actually different in the conclusions drawn between books.

Collins could no doubt point to extensive extra research that identifies clearly that the conclusions drawn in HTMF are very much their own. However Collins' works great marketable strength is also its great weakness. What Collins is able to effectively do is communicate clearly the conclusions of extensive and detailed academic research to an audience not taken to reading long journal articles, or pouring over endless statistical analysis. Though Collins never can be accused of 'dumbing down' his work, eventually while reading HTMF I felt as though I had read it all before and the conclusions were not only obvious but very familiar.

Based upon this I cast my mind back to the previous two works, stacked them up against HTMF and asked the question, which of them is the most useful? For mine it clearly is GTG for two reasons. Firstly it, like BTL, has a positive disposition that HTMF does not. GTG is a presentation of evidence backed 'should do' behaviours that lead to positive results. In terms of leading a reader on a journey to betterment telling them what they should do is in my opinion more effective than only telling them what they should not do.

Secondly, I believe it has far greater application than just Collins area of research companies. The research presented in all books has wider application yet the method of presentation in GTG makes it easier to apply to other organisations, and critically for individuals. Its promotion of what Collins calls 'Level 5' leadership is an excellent read for application in more facets of life than just business.

To conclude in this section if you had to select just one of Collins works to read, go with GTG.

Basketballs – That all being said, if circumstance arose whereupon you were thrust with the opportunity to read HTMF without that which to read GTG, you will not be disappointed. HTMF presents in clear prose and example what the research believe to be the five cascading stages in decline for a company. At each stage the contention made is fully explored along multiple lines and backed up with choice data from the academic research. You will read through this book and be amazed by its depth yet simplicity of outcomes.

Although the basis for each of the books questions is the performance of companies, the answers are never a reflection on company behaviour or corporate decision making. As with all their work, Collins and his team allow their research to guide, and as always it is more a comment on human behaviour. What should shock you is just how obvious the conclusions are, in hindsight.

There is great benefit to be obtained through reading HTMF and entering into self-reflection based on Collins' principles. While they may not fully suit every situation in our minds at the very least they should encourage thought, discussion and hopefully growth both corporately and personally. 

Review: Red and Me, by Bill Russell

Image courtesy http://www.dreallday.com 

by Matthew Wood, a re-post from Balanced Sports

A few months ago I was in the book shop at the Central Station in Washington DC and happened upon a book by the Boston Celtics' Hall-of-Fame center Bill Russell in the remainder bin. It was marked down from $24.99 to $4.99, so I bought it. Entitled “Red and Me: My Coach, my lifelong friend”, I only recently read it and without fail, every ten pages I exclaimed to my wife how horrible a sports book it was. And it`s only got 180 pages! Statements like “Now he's claiming to teach an 80-year old Auerbach about basketball from the stands!” or “I can see why it was in the remainder bin” or, less tactfully “What complete and utter BULL SHIT”. 

Yeah, I was yelling by the end.

An insight into a particularly successful coach/player relationship? I think not. It is only 180-odd pages of drivel by a man whose ego simply knows no limits. When many people think back on the age-old “Wilt or Russell” debate, Chamberlain's ability to reel off his statistics and accomplishments has usually marked him the more egotistical of the pair. Russ, however, simply put it as “Eleven rings, ten fingers”. That Wilt only won twice – on mostly inferior teams – was the burden he had to lug about and as such in the “Who's better, who's best” game he had to rely on his extraordinary personal achievements. Russell has always been seen as the less-outspoken and less crass of the pair.

Until now. Red and Me was less about Red and more about Me. It was undoubtedly the most arrogant, selfish, egotistical and self-gratifying sports book I've ever had the misfortune to read and without question ranks at the bottom of the pile. And I've read Dean Jones: One day Magic. The point is, I've read some rubbish in my time but never have I read a sports book I enjoyed less.

These are not the recollections of a coach/player relationship and what made it so successful, more an attempted apologetic at how good Bill Russell was as a player. For several years during and after the careers of Wilt and Russell – I hate bringing Wilt's name into this but their careers will always be inextricably linked – Russell always said the Celtics triumphed most often because they had the better teams, which was for the large part true. Now he appears to be coming out saying that his teammates weren't nearly as good as history has made them out, and that all the glory for their championship years should go to him, simply because he was that good. I get the feeling now there is a swell of posthumous support for Chamberlain's case as greater and this is Russell trying to gently tell everyone that he was the best ever without actually saying it. He fails horribly.

Throughout the book, as he dwells on his family history, his relationships with his coaches and his experience Russell says “It is better to understand than to be understood” and lets on that this is his personal philosophy, the mantra he's led his life by. What twaddle! It may very well be true, but when he follows it immediately with a “Why do the citizens of Boston hate me?” soliloquy; after purporting to understand them it rings very false indeed. He then uses the “... than to be understood” as an excuse to do just as he wants in life and be excused for it, no matter what the consequences on those around him. This makes him look a very sad, extremely angry and ultimately exceedingly lonely man.

Russell has a reputation for being a little spiky, perhaps a bit hard to get to know. He often has refused to sign autographs for young fans, backing it up with statements like “Young children should ask their teacher for their autograph”. Within 30 pages he shoots that argument in the foot automatically and irrevocably by stating that he learnt nothing from his coaches at the University of San Francisco or from Auerbach during their ten years together. Indeed he then says he never respected any coaches he'd had except Red Auerbach, and the reason he held Red in such esteem was that he didn't try to get Russell to play according to team rules but changed the team rules to do what was best for the Big Fella. He then says he knew everything about basketball before coming to the NBA as a 22-year old. According to Bill, Red identified early his talent and then essentially gave him carté blanche to do as he pleased.

No-one can argue with the record of the Boston Celtics during the 1950s and 1960s. I would have said “No-one can ever argue with Bill Russell's record ...” except this book has made me dislike the man so much that now I simply refuse to acknowledge him outside those Celtics teams. That this man, such an icon of the sporting world, the first black coach in any pro sport comes out and says “I liked Red Auerbach because he let me do things the way I wanted” somehow manages to diminish that last, fabulous, incredible achievement. 

No-one can dispute the results, so perhaps Auerbach was every bit the coach we think - to effectively get a player with a chip on his shoulder the size of Lake Michigan like Russell to suit up and play hard every game ensures Red's reputation as one of the greats.  But more than that, Red and Me places Bill Russell inelegantly balancing at the top of Sporting Hall of Fame for Complete Dicks, comfortably beating Ben Roethlisberger and Sonny Bill Williams into the minor placings.

Red and Me: My Coach, my lifelong friend – NO balls.

Not even for your worst enemy.