In the eloquent prose of a Pulitzer prize-winning critic for the New York Times, Margo Jefferson does one thing rather well. She puts Michael Jackson into cultural context. The most valuable contribution of this slim volume is to demonstrate that although her subject may appear to be the strangest human on the planet, he also exemplifies major themes in American popular culture.
Jefferson's exploration of this terrain succeeds not in normalising Jackson, but rather in linking him to a broader stream of strangeness - the freak show element present in American showbiz at least since the days of P. T. Barnum, whose methods Michael himself once studied avidly. The author's other principal strength is her rich appreciation of Michael's art: her rapturous riffs on his music and its meaning smack more of the fan than the detached critic.
Her title, On Michael Jackson, suggests a high-brow essay. Stylistically, she does not disappoint, delivering many fresh insights in diamond-sharp language. Scholastically, though, she fails. The book is "on" Michael Jackson but she never tells us what she is "on" about. What is the objective? Much of the time she is actually talking not about Michael Jackson at all but rather - in "cultural studies" vein - about public perception of the superstar. This enables her, like all that mealy-mouthed academic tribe, to be vague and evasive on the big issues, in this case whether Michael has or has not been sexually involved with young boys. Her unspoken agenda seems to be Michael's rehabilitation, judging by her emphasis on what his art has meant for her and her generation. I have no quarrel with that mission. It's fine by me.
What is a good deal less fine is her sly disinclination to confront inconvenient facts. She has a chapter on Michael's trial but totally ignores the evidence of sexual conduct given by his accuser. Likewise she refers obliquely to the earlier crisis of 1993-4 but never touches on what the boy in that case told the authorities. She prefers instead to ramble on about the competing lawyers and their tactics. What a sense of priorities!
It is not just sly, it is slipshod, relying on research she did a decade or more ago, if at all. For instance, she cites J. Randy Taraborrelli as an important biographical source. Fair enough, but had she done her homework she would have known about, read, and cited the 2004 edition of his work, not, as she does, the 1991 one, which obviously could not have covered Jackson's first brush with the law. Likewise, despite pretending to some knowledge of "child sex abuse", it is obvious from the uncritical way she buys into the abuse industry's language, and from the paucity of her (dated) references, that her understanding is as near to zero as makes no difference. It is embarrassingly clear she has not the foggiest notion of why boys are so important to Michael Jackson or indeed to other men who wreck their lives in pursuit of taboo relationships.