(In order of completion)
1. Mark Z. Danielewski. “House of Leaves.” Recommended by friend Fran. Struck me as among the best novels by an American I had read in decades. It seemed to winningly combine Pynchon, Nabokov, and “The Blair Witch Project.” But when I mentioned it to three well-situated-in-the-literary-world others, not one had heard of it – or of Danielewski.
2. Mike Silver. “The Arc of Boxing.” Recommended by friend Michael. Makes a strong, if unexpected, case for the superiority of boxers from the first 60 or so years of the 20th century over those who came along later. I can’t argue, and my main contact with the current boxing world does not disagree.
3. Mark Z. Danielewski. “The Whalestone Chronicles.” In “Leaves” (see above), a woman in an insane asylum sends letters to her son without. This volume purports to contain additional letters. They turn out to be unnecessary, irrelevant, and perhaps even an unseemly cash grab by the author worthy of Donald Trump.
4. James Atlas. “Delmore Schwartz.” I read that this was an excellent biography and, even though I had no interest in Schwartz or his poetry or prose, I like literary biographies so I read it. I can’t say it did much for me, but I knew Schwartz was the basis for…
5. Saul Bellow. “Humboldt’s Gift.” …so I re-read that. I had forgotten – or maybe never knew – how funny Bellow was. You can skim his philosophical remarks and just enjoy the colorful characters, among whom his protagonist, Charley Citrine, ping-pongs.
6. Stacy Schiff. “Vera.” An enjoyable and educational bio of Mrs. Vladimir Nabakov, written with good humor and full appreciation of her life and work with her husband. Did you know Vera was a crack shot, suspected of involvement in a plot to assassinate Trotsky, and was a strong supporter of Sen. Joseph McCarthy?
7. Alice Munro. “The Beggar’s Maid.” Recommended by Adele. Good book. Simultaneously conventional and original. Well-grounded in place and psychology and moving. (I do not hold the recent revelations about her daughter against Munro.)
8. Walker Percy. “The Moviegoer.” Another re-read. Recalled it as fitting a piece I was writing. Struck now by how unlikely/out of time it now seems. The existentially questing “hero” is an investment counselor, and he doesn’t have sex with the young woman he pursues. That may have won an National Book Award in 1961, but I can’t imagine that happening now.
9. Lydia Davis. “Our Strangers.” I like Davis. She opens the possibilities of what makes a “story”
and I pick up ideas for things to write. I scored three – two short-shorts, one substantial – from this collection.
10. Elfriede Jelinek. “Lust.” Recommended by my friend Jaden. Powerful, devastating. An exegesis on man’s brutality to women, capitalism’s brutality toward workers, and society’s brutality to all. Sometimes all three seem to be going on in the same sentence. Not a line of dialogue. I didn’t think I could make it through. But then the sex started – and I had Jelinek’s Nobel Prize as a carrot to lead me on.
So many Bob Levins on the Internet; I'm the Bob Levin who writes.