Books in Brief: Tarantula

Tarantula, by Bob Dylan (Macmillan, 137 pp., $3.95). Dylan turned thirty yesterday. He wrote this when he was twentyfive; wouldn’t let it be published until now because of unspecified qualms. Why no more qualms? Dunno—perhaps he decided aah, the hell with it, let Macmillan cash in on yesterday. Tarantula is self-consciously weird fantasy-snatches—like, well, siky-dellic—punctuated by droll little postcards and letters from Out There: William Burroughs and Don Marquis alternating. But then they say Proust wrote some really lousy folksongs. c. h. simonds