On two consecutive nights recently I heard two very different performances of the Joni Mitchell song "Woodstock." The first was at a Crosby, Stills, Nash and Young concert at Madison Square Garden. The show was impressive and strong -- surprisingly so, in fact. But it was damaged at times by an ineradicable air of nostalgia and self-congratulation, and the group's version of "Woodstock" was definitely one of those times. While well played, it seemed like little more than a generational pat on the back -- with an implied, and slightly condescending, "Wish you coulda been there" to anyone under forty in the packed house.

The next night, however, I attended the taping of An All Star Tribute to Joni Mitchell, which will air on TNT on April 16. Stone Temple Pilots had been booked to perform "Woodstock" for the show, but (surprise -- some things never change) cancelled at the absolute last minute. Richard Thompson, who was on hand to perform "Black Crow" from Mitchell's Hejira album, jumped into the breach and turned in an astonishing solo acoustic rendition of "Woodstock." His guttural growls and droning guitar made the song resonate with the folkloric power of a strange medieval ballad. The desire to "get back to the garden" became a kind of metaphysical quest, both noble and desperate, a search for meaning and some semblance of connection in a blasted world. It was a stunning example of a great artist's ability to find new depths and beauty even in well-trod terrain.

Those contrasting experiences of what can be found when you look back brought to mind the recent news that the three surviving Beatles had written a book together that would be published later this year. Let me say right at the start that the Beatles were without a doubt the most important cultural influence on my life. But when I heard about the book, I wondered, "What are they going to say that hasn't already been said?"

John Lennon definitively aired all the group's dirty laundry in the still-shocking "Working Class Hero" interviews he did with Rolling Stone editor Jann Wenner in late 1969 and early 1970. That only offered his perspective, of course, but Paul McCartney, George Harrison and Ringo Starr have all spoken about the band's history and breakup many times in the intervening years. And literally hundreds of books and thousands of articles have been written by friends, lovers, fellow musicians, journalists, scholars and fans about the Beatles both as a group and as individuals. Rumors even persist that Paul, George and Ringo will perform together once the book appears.

Granted, the sheer quality of the Beatles' work accounts for at least some of the ongoing cross-generational fascination with the band. (In any event, I hope that's true.) And Lennon's tragic murder in 1980 both raised him to the level of a near-god and made it impossible for the foursome to genuinely reunite, appear in commercials (though Ringo pulled off that dubious trick during the Super Bowl), make disappointing records and generally tarnish the mythic stature they've enjoyed since they broke up three decades ago.

As for the Beatles telling their own story, I thought that was what the extensive Anthology film and video project was about. And then there are the effects of the sheer passage of time. There's a great moment in the Foreword to George Martin's book, With a Little Help From My Friends: The Making of Sgt. Pepper. "A few years ago, I was up at AIR studios with Paul," Martin writes, "and we were reminiscing like the old codgers we've become. Suddenly, we found ourselves disagreeing over a silly little detail. I said that George had done something, 'No, it was Ringo,' said Paul. We were both so sure of ourselves. Then we fell about laughing. 'My God!' I exclaimed, 'if we can't get it right, who the hell can?'"

Who, indeed? But then again, maybe it depends on what you mean by "right"? It's conceivable, I suppose, that, for their book project, Paul, George and Ringo have compared stories to iron out discrepancies and determine what "really" happened. But it's extremely unlikely. They're far more likely to let the various contradictions -- which are far too innumerable to go into here -- stand. And I guess it's even possible that they might perform together. But, given the many offers they've turned down over the decades and Harrison's obvious physical discomfort every time he was in McCartney's presence during the Anthology project, it's hard to imagine that that would happen. There's far too much blood on the tracks.

Unless surviving the attempt on his life last year has made George see the prospect of a Beatles reunion in a different light. And unless Paul's getting over Linda's death, his delight at finding a new love, and the fun of his show at the Cavern Club in Liverpool have made him more willing to accommodate his old bandmate.

Unless, unless, unless. The culture's ongoing obsession with the Beatles is itself an expression of that old desire to get back -- as the saying goes -- to the garden. Each time you encounter the band's saga, it's like hearing a story from childhood that you know ends badly -- in this case, in petty feuds and bitter recriminations. Each time you hear it, you believe, in some place of wonder, that this time the ending might be different. So you can bet I'll read that book when it comes out. Will the ending be any different this time around? Irrational as it seems, I can't help but hope. But even I'm not enough of an optimist or fool -- take your pick -- to count on it.