"Outlaw Journalist" by William Mckeen

When William McKeen attended the 1984 Democratic National Convention in
San Francisco, he recalls covering the event alongside the late Hunter
S. Thompson. He remembers a "wonderful, kind, really decent,
hardworking guy" that only vaguely resembled the wild, cigar-smoking,
aviator-wearing character that had become an indelible part of
Thompson's image.

"We all believed that the character was the man," says McKeen, who also
serves as the chair of the department of journalism at the University
of Florida. "And when I took him out on stage, he was. But behind the
scenes, I saw how crushing his celebrity was. He was no longer able to
work as a reporter. He was more famous than the people he was covering."

But it's the first image of the man - the kind, decent, hardworking man
- that prevails in McKeen's lastest book, "Outlaw Journalist: The Life
and Times of Hunter S. Thompson." It's McKeen's second book on Hunter -
the first was more academic in tone - and while dozen's of stories,
anecdotes and books have been published on the Woody Creek writer, what
separates "Outlaw Journalist" is McKeen's keen eye for the real story
behind the man.

"All the stories that have been published were about the caricature of
him," McKeen says. "What makes this book different is that I attempt to
tell the story straight; chronology is my friend. I wanted to recreate
as much of his life as I could, the way it happened."

So McKeen printed out decades of calendar pages and would write down
where Hunter was and what he was doing any time he came across a date
reference in his research. Using letters, interviews with friends as
well as Hunter's own writings, he began to craft a story that was as
true to life as possible.

"The crazy character was a literary device," McKeen says. "It was like
Huckleberry Finn, a great tool to get a point across. But it also
became kind of a burden for him."

McKeen says he intentionally avoided the most common tactic employed by
others who write about Thompson: attempting to replicate his style.

"Because he was such a great stylist and had such a distinctive way
with words, people often try to show off and write like him. But that's
an impossible thing to do. When my students try to do it they look like
fools, and I tell them that there is only one person who can write like
Hunter, and it's not them."

"Outlaw Journalist" focuses on Hunter the writer, as well as his place
both in literary and journalistic history. McKeen believes that most
people don't understand the importance and relevance of Hunter's body
of work, and revisiting the topic on the anniversary of what would have
been Hunter's 71st birthday (July 18) is an opportunity he relished.
And, he adds, the story doesn't need hyperbole or tall tales.

"He had just a great, action-packed life, and you don't need to f%!@ with it."

Quite serendipitously, McKeen was involved in a car accident during the
writing of the book that put him in a wheelchair for weeks. His hands
were also crippled and he was unable to work, or even wheel himself to
the bathroom.

"It gave me time away from working, but it also made me understand how
awful it is when you're completely dependent on other people. But the
fact that it happened turned out to not be all bad; for a few weeks I
got to maybe feel like he felt at the end."

"Hidden Harmony" by J.R. Leibowitz

The worlds of physics and art seem as different as, well, physics and
art. But in J. R. Leibowitz's latest book, "Hidden Harmony," the former
quantum physics professor and university art department chair aims to
show the interconnectedness of the two seemingly disparate fields while
allowing the general reader "to see art and physics as artists and
physicists do."

The idea for the book came to Dr. Leibowitz some years ago when he
discovered that he could anticipate what an artist would do next by
looking at only half of an artwork. He surmised that concepts like
symmetry, balance and unity, as well as content and form have
predictive value in art akin to his experience in physics.

"There is a strong overlap in the way that physical theory is put
together and how an artwork is put together," Leibowitz says. "Based on
my intuition from physics, I realized that there are definitely
differences, but there are several similarities with what we can call
compositional elements."

Using real life science examples and actual works of art, Leibowitz
alternately deconstructs the building blocks of both to reveal their
commonalities, in effect refuting the highly romanticized notion of the
whimsical artists and, conversely, the scientist that is incapable of
recognizing beauty.

"Good artists are technically trained," he says. "If you've looked at a
lot of good art, you realize the great stuff is not willy nilly; it may
be inspired, but it has to make sense the way that a novel makes sense
or a musical composition makes sense."

Or, the way physics makes sense.

But, he adds, this idea of a definitive order or structure to art is
often in direct opposition to much of the contemporary art currently on
the scene.

"A lot of contemporary artists don't realize that it's a combination of
inspiration and knowledge. You have to have a good foundation to be a
great artist. But at the same time there is good composition that isn't
good art. It's necessary but not a sufficient requirement."

As Leibowitz sees it, both art and physics rely on historical
information within their respective fields, but physics - and science
in general - deals with a more intense rigidity that separates it from
right-brain-oriented endeavors.

"Physics is much more of a straight jacket in that what's new has to be
inclusive of what came before," Leibowitz says. "And - and this is very
important - it has to have predictive value. It has to have
falsifiability. Without that, it's what the Texans call bull honkey."

In the end, Leibowitz is simply trying to convey the message that there
are multiple ways to view the real world. Art can be described in
scientific terms, and beauty can be found in physics. But all the
reader needs to have, as Leibowitz says in his preface, is a
"willingness to consider the possibility that Michaelangelo, Cezanne,
and Picasso were exploring the same world as Maxwell, Einstein, and
Schroedinger."

damien@aspendailynews.com