book review: "The Leica R Compendium", by Jonathan Eastland

[pgs@thillana.lcs.mit.edu (Patrick Sobalvarro)]

I picked up this hardcover book for $35.99 at Hunt's last night
(considering today's prices for hardcover books, I thought I had found
quite a bargain).  I read a lot of it last night and skimmed the rest,
so I thought I'd send my impressions to the list.

The book is sort of a hodgepodge of useful information and some
totally oddball sections.  The straight information includes some
interesting history.  For example, he shows a photo of an early
Leicaflex prototype, made in 1957.  He gives the history of many of
the popular lenses (did you know, for example, that the 135mm/2.8
Elmarit-R is essentially the same lens in both M and R mounts?).  He
addresses the not-so-burning question of just how closely related the
R cameras are to some older Minoltas.  He talks about the Visoflex,
which I think is kind of a fascinating kludge.  He also talks about
the SL-2, which according to some dealers cost more to produce than it
was sold for, but was sold anyway for a couple of years because the
sale of lenses with it allowed a profit to be made on the entire
system.

There are also lots of useful tables giving specifications of lenses,
etc.

Less useful is the cheerleading.  I think that one function of books
like this is certainly to serve as a reference, but another is to
assure brand enthusiasts that they've rightly spent thousands of
dollars for some things and to tell them about some other things for
which they might consider spending more thousands of dollars.  Now,
I'm all for this -- the continual re-offering of the tantalizing
pleasure of ownership which can only be released in sporadic ecstasies
of acquisition forms the very basis of our consumerist system and I
would have to be some kind of pinko socialist not to be all for it --
but I have to say that I think there is something a little vulgar in
gushing about how wonderful the objects are as opposed to simply
presenting them.  It makes one feel a bit ridiculous.

The "example" photographs (as opposed to the photographs of the
equipment itself) in this book are also a bit odd.  They are mostly of
nautical subjects, which appear to be the author's specialty.  As
examples of photographic art, I think they are of mixed interest, but
what I think is particularly odd is that they are not exemplars of
technical excellence -- they are typically not very sharp.  The effect
can be rather fetching, as in a couple of seascapes that appear almost
to have been painted, but they seem not the intuitive choice to
accompany a text that celebrates the sharpness of Leica lenses.

Something I found rather cute about this book is the author's
presentation of several macro photographs that were taken without the
aid of macro equipment -- he describes how he simply removes his
50mm/2.0 Summicron-R from the camera, sets the focus at infinity, and
hand-holds it reversed against the mount while making the exposure.
No kidding.  I am going to have to try this.

There appears to be a section near the end about the practice of
photography in England, or something like that.  I didn't read the
section, and I don't have the book with me now so I am in fact
wondering whether I dreamed it because I was reading the book in bed
quite late last night, but it appeared to be a discursive essay on the
state of the art, rather than a guide for tourist-photographers.
Either of these would seem to be a little odd in a book about
equipment.

So, in summary, I think that the book contains a lot of useful and
interesting information, and some rather strange bits.  At $35.99 it's
a lot cheaper than most things associated with Leicas, so I'm glad to
have bought it and would recommend it to anyone with an interest in
the subject.

-Patrick Sobalvarro