RUNNING BACKWARDS INSIDE BOB’S MALIBU ONION DOME DREAM

VIDEO INTERVIEW INSIDE …

LA film-maker Bob Mori and journalist Leigh G Banks discuss a book that, on the surface, is a bit of a Malibu-boohoo. But in reality, just like Dylan’s Point Dume home, it could be a real hidden gem.

A few weeks ago I was asked to review a new Dylan book focusing on Bob’s life in Malibu inside the grand folly he built on Birdview Avenue, overlooking the Pacific.

Because we were on the road, I had the book delivered to an address in the UK. It was the simplest thing to do.

Two thousand miles and many days later I picked up Bob Dylan’s Malibu from the small detached 1930s house in the suburbs of Manchester, my home town.

Then we headed out to Shropshire and settled into our rented oak beamed cottage.

It was there I pealed back the books glossy cover with its stark rear-view image.

And I have to say I was disappointed.

Dylan’s Malibu is a large print volume of Martin Newman’s experiences with Bob in the 1970s. Martin describes himself as a US historian, designer, craftsman and collector. Good credentials, but what I thought would be fascinating and revealing was actually perfunctory, under-written and, yep, frustrating.

On a first read it just didn’t get to the point, it seemed doomed from page one. Point Doomed, so to speak

It just didn’t give the insights I wanted about a time when Bob’s career was trundling along like an old gypsy caravan.

It was also about the time his marriage to Sara was already going 90 miles an hour down a dead end street.

One of the world’s most glamorous couples appeared to spending money hand-over-fist creating an extravagant dream home that was rumoured to be becoming a nightmare.

I had to put Martin’s book down for a while, unsure what to do with it. I didn’t want to insult Martin. But I really didn’t want to review either.

***

Four days later I picked up again. And I immediately saw what is wrong with it.

But I also saw why it should be taken seriously by us Dylan fans.

It is truly an unusual insight into a Dylan creative storm on top of a ‘cliffside’ with the Pacific undulating beneath it.

I realised Martin’s book is actually like time and the bride… it runs backwards. Sadly, not by design but by default.

The editorial ‘cure’ is simple though: Just move the last few chapters to the beginning of the book and it works.

For these are the chapters that are full of gold, hand-made tiles and crazy door knobs. These chapters are the access to Dylan’s glorious edifice of folly, imagination, his grand, probably stoned, design.

And here you have a magical book. Up front!

In this way all the little snippets – like Bob’s two dollar thrift shop fedora and his yellow tour jet nicknamed the Banana – suddenly fall in to place and become fascinating.

Right now Dylan’s Malibu is Edlis Cafe Series own folly.

It lacks relevant pictures, only one or two of Bob and of Martin himself and others that carry little weight because they are photos of ‘something similar.

This all said, it really is a Dylan book worthy of any fan’s shelves and head space.

So buy it, forgive it and enjoy it.

And it read it back to front.