The Bob Dylan Encyclopedia – review of first edition

Following yesterday’s call by Michael Gray for suggested additions/alterations for the next edition of his Bob Dylan Encyclopedia, several readers have asked what The Dylan Daily thought of the massive book when it was first published, in mid-2006.

In a nutshell: deeply impressed. My review, from the Archives, is reproduced below.



Gerry Smith




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The Bob Dylan Encyclopedia, by Michael Gray


Over 30 years ago, Song & Dance Man, Michael Gray’s pioneering study, outlined Bob Dylan’s credentials as a serious artist whose work guaranteed him a place at the top table of twentieth century creatives, alongside fellow giants like James Joyce, Pablo Picasso and Miles Davis.

Though Gray’s seminal work triggered a Bob Dylan book publishing industry - even semi-serious collectors will now possess well over 100 different Dylan titles - there has always been a big gap awaiting an attentive publisher: for an all-encompassing Dylan encyclopedia, presenting all that’s known about its subject.

Billboard Books purported to fill the gap in 2004, but Oliver Trager’s Keys To The Rain: The Definitive Bob Dylan Encylopedia restricted itself mainly to Dylan’s songs and albums, largely ignoring people and places, and the cultural contexts of the songbook. Trager’s tome is valuable, but it doesn’t match the ambition of its title.

So Michael Gray’s new book was a mouth-watering prospect: big gap, key writer. Few will be disappointed by The Bob Dylan Encyclopedia, published today (in the USA, and on 13 July in the UK). It’s likely to become the biggest selling Dylan book of all.

As you’d expect from a writer of Gray’s pedigree, the Encylopedia majors on its author’s unparalleled expertise, his critical judgment and a ready intelligence and authorial finesse rare among writers of Dylan (and so, a fortiori, all rock music) books.

The Bob Dylan Encyclopedia is Gray’s magnum opus: in three quarters of a million words, he paints a massive canvas. Over 730 pages, its daunting breadth of coverage and sheer level of detail is deeply impressive.

As devotees of Gray’s writing might expect, The Bob Dylan Encyclopedia’s strengths include authoritative essays positioning Dylan’s work in the context of other artistic traditions – notably The Bible, English literature, the blues, rock ‘n’ roll, nursery rhymes and film.

Highlights? Scores. Gray’s analysis of the influence on Dylan’s work of the Book Of Ecclesiastes is the most evocative piece of writing on the musician you’re likely to encounter. His take on Lay Down Your Weary Tune is almost as good. Articles on Albert Grossman, the Newport Folk Festival (and the surprising links between the two), Sara Dylan, and Jerry Schatzberg provide startling revelations. Innumerable other probing essays illuminate dark corners of the Dylan world of which few are even aware. Gray’s dissections of the impact of Dylan’s literary antecedents are definitive.

The footnoting which bedevilled Gray’s last Dylan book is used here to good effect, documenting detail which would interrupt the flow, without repeating the mistake of supplying a parallel, competing text.

And, for a book of this magnitude, The Bob Dylan Encyclopedia has remarkably few solecisms or typos. Others might seek to document factual errors, but they’ll need eyes like the proverbial toilet rat to find them.

The Bob Dylan Encyclopedia: perfect, then?

Well, no, not quite. The content could be better balanced. Some Dylan songs and albums are discussed at length, and with considerable acuity, as you’d expect. But many of the albums receive short shrift. Thus The Freewheelin’ Bob Dylan gets less than a quarter of a page, to be followed soon after by two and a half pages on Froggie Went a-Courtin’!

Lots of entries on Dylan’s Dadrock contemporaries could have been cut, some entirely, the remainder reduced to focus on their links with Dylan. The galaxy of Dylan superfans profiled will be flattered to see their fealty recognised, though few civilian readers will be much interested.

Gray’s readiness to flaunt his critical savvy generally serves him well, but some aficionados will stick pins into his effigy after reading, for example, his relentless sniping at recent touring performances, and his dismissal of Before the Flood (“has never been a favourite of anyone keen on Bob Dylan”). Gray’s reservations about the two most recent films, No Direction Home and Masked And Anonymous will probably resonate only among fellow experts.

And, after this book, Michael Gray won’t expect to receive Xmas cards for 2006 from, inter alia: Joan Baez, Roger McGuinn, Robbie Robertson, Larry Charles, the estate of Ewan McColl, Pete Seeger, Oliver Trager, Dave Stewart, Stephen Sondheim … .

When he leaves the Dylan comfort zone, Gray makes some tendentious calls. His dismissal of Cole Porter – one of the few songwriters who would vie with Dylan as the best of the last century – suggests an unworthy rockism. Ditto his dismissal of Joni Mitchell’s jazz-lite excursions, and the legacy of the Grateful Dead. Gray’s generally laudable article on Van Morrison is short of the nuance which informs his Dylan writing.

The Sydney Morning Herald - a “staid and haughty paper”. Paul Brady - “a national hero on both sides of the border in Ireland.” Really?

And, in a writer with such a richly deserved reputation, Gray’s occasionally strident tone is a surprise. Some of his spiky, splenetic ruminations are compounded by a monochrome critical schema, which seems to judge art, people and events as either wonderful or wretched, with few shades of gray.

Gray’s worst stylistic tic is his over-fondness for hyperbole via superfluous adverbs: his over-use of –ly words - “utterly meaningless”, “infinitely fluid”, “immaculately compatible” - is wearing. Absolutely, utterly wearing.

Such infelicities wouldn’t matter in book about Rockaday Johnny, but books such as Gray’s, dealing with the greatest writer in the English language since Shakespeare, have to meet higher standards.

Another Editor might have been tougher on such matters.

As an artefact, The Bob Dylan Encyclopedia has the look and feel of The Bible. The unflattering front cover profile apart, the design confers an appropriate gravitas. The CD-ROM of the text supplied with the book is a valuable bonus, offering a functionality that hard copy simply can’t match. Want to check out all the references to Christopher Ricks? Easy. Want to print out the article on Like A Rolling Stone to read on the train? No problem. Want to sneak read the Encyclopedia on the office PC, while pretending to complete a spreadsheet? Just remember to pop the CD-ROM into your jacket pocket before leaving home.

Continuum needs to pack the CD rather better, though – extricating it from the plastic wallet inside the back cover is difficult, and hazardous. Brief user instructions would be handy, too. Some of the headings used in the Encyclopedia are unhelpful. The Index might well be a work of art, but I’ll never know - I can’t read the microscopic font.

In a nutshell? Easy: from today, Michael Gray’s new Encyclopedia is destined to be the most important Bob Dylan book, bar none.


The Bob Dylan Encyclopedia, by Michael Gray, Continuum, June (US)/July (UK) 2006, 736pp, £25.




Gerry Smith