Rating: 4.5/5 
Wilentz’s study isn’t perfect, but it comes close. Though the book is roughly arranged chronologically, it’s not a biography in the traditional sense. Instead, Wilentz focuses on certain points in Dylan’s career, with attention paid to the artist’s possible influences at these various stages and how they were reflected in his music, films (yes, there’s a chapter about Masked and Anonymous) and even his radio show and the first volume of Chronicles. What ultimately emerges is an image of a Dylan who’s (wait for it) very well read and who has drawn inspiration from a wide array of historical events, old-time musicians and seemingly every corner of both highbrow and low culture. Most of Wilentz’s assertions are at least plausible and in many cases convincing, whether it’s how he describes the influence of the Beats on songs like “Desolation Row” and “It’s Alright Ma (I’m Only Bleeding)” or how he clinically dissects how “Love and Theft” and especially Modern Times appropriate from the past while at the same time cleverly reinventing, and sometimes even subverting, their original contexts and meanings. Other flashpoints in Dylan’s life– Rolling Thunder, his Christian phase, the creative wasteland of most of the 1980s – receive similarly compelling treatment; never does Wilentz give in to wild speculation about Dylan’s influences, and he’s careful to note cases where an apparent influence might simply be coincidental.
Wilentz’s deep appreciation for history is among the book’s best traits; where other Dylan biographers have tried – and failed – to grasp the history behind the musician’s work, Wilentz succeeds brilliantly. The chapter that centers on the song “Blind Willie McTell,” while mentioning the common complaint among Dylan fans that the song should never have been excluded from Infidels, offers a concise sketch of the bluesman, giving the reader a portrait of the real McTell who existed beyond Dylan’s remarkable song. In much the same way, the author provides a detailed account of the real-life events that inspired the song folk song “Delia,” weaving a thorough review of Dylan’s version into both the documented facts behind that Christmas Eve, 1900 shooting and how Dylan’s interpretation borrowed from previous iterations of the song.
To his credit, Wilentz does not try to argue that Dylan’s work is always above reproach; though he’s the resident historian of the musician’s official website, Wilentz remains objective. He only stumbles when he occasionally gets too wrapped up in how the songs sound, resorting to the types of clichéd phrases that have long been a staple of Dylan-related writing. It’s a minor drawback, though, and one easy to forgive when compared to America’s broad scope. In many ways the book is as much a history of this country – its myths, contradictions, mysteries and conflicts – as a history about Bob Dylan. This approach might limit its appeal for readers looking for a straightforward Dylan biography, but there are already enough of those. One of the most thoughtfully composed examinations of both Dylan and America’s unique history, Bob Dylan In America comes highly recommended.
