If I were inclined to be snarky, it would be easy to pick holes. The reference to 180 degree first corner at Monaco, Gasometer (it's actually the last corner) or the comment about the Sharknose Ferrari with it's 450BHP V6 engine (I'm not sure exactly how much power it was putting out, but given that, six years later, Cosworth struggled to get 400BHP from their DFV despite the fact it was twice the size, I'd guess not more than 200BHP). Michael Cannell is not a racing journalist, and as someone who grew up with the sport in the background from the age of about 5, this is sometimes glaringly obvious.
The thing is, it's perhaps because of the outsider's perspective that he brings that this is one of a quite small number of books about motor racing I'd recommend to people with no interest in the sport. In fact, as with the recent box office success, Rush, it might even help if you aren't interested. Cannell has described his approach as 'novelistic non-fiction' and it's an apt description of what he does. The book centres on the story of America's first Formula 1 World Champion, Phil Hill, and his rivalry with his team mate, the German Count Wolfgang Von Trips. But it's not so much a book about the nuts and bolts of who won what races as an insight into what drew a certain kind of individual to compete in a sport which, at that time, had a frightening fatality rate (of the 21 drivers on the grid at Phil Hill's debut Grand Prix, at Reims in 1958, 8 would die behind the wheel of a racing car).
Cannell focuses on the fact that, for all that both Hill and, especially, Von Trips, were born into considerable wealth and privilege, they both had difficult upbringings. Hill never got on with his parents, described in the book as functioning alcoholics who rowed incessantly, and were dismayed when their only son dropped out of college to go work as a mechanic. Von Trips found himself drafted at the age of 16 to clear bodies out of towns ruined by the bombing of the Rhineland, fought briefly at the Belgian front, and fled his castle in the face of the invading US army (he later returned there and apparently got on well with the GIs stationed at the castle). This might go some way to explaining a more fatalistic attitude towards sudden, violent death than most. Indeed, reading this book, I couldn't help thinking that it was only the context of two enormously brutal World Wars which allowed for a culture in which death was considered routine in what is after all merely a sport. (Having said that, a recent encounter with A&E a few months in which I woke up on a stretcher after a cycling accident with no idea how I'd got there back left me thinking that there are worse ways to go). The death and danger is sometimes slightly overplayed, (the reference to James Dean's fatal car crash seemed beside the point, and a number of other drivers are introduced into the narrative seemingly mainly in order to recount the manner of their demise) and Monza was never known as 'the death track' any more than the Nordschliefe was known as 'the graveyard' (A Rush solecism, that one).
Lurking in the background is the would-be opera star and – by this account at least – frustrated prima donna, Enzo Ferrari. He described himself once as 'an agitator of men' – with no great engineering or driving talent of his own, he was undoubtedly, for a time, very good at drawing together those who did have such ability, and playing them off against each other to his own benefit. A complex character who deserves his own book (and of course, has several – I recommend Richard Williams' biography).
As a tale of two sports stars who, for all that they were not quite among the greats, were accomplished and intriguing, complex personalities, and the 'day before yesterday' world they inhabited (Cannell's observation that their jet-setting 'on the road' lifestyle was more than a little like that of rock stars, ten years later was well made, I thought), it's well worth a read.