Less by Andrew Sean Greer: A review

This book won the 2018 Pulitzer Prize for Fiction and is a Lambda Literary Award for Gay Fiction Nominee and an Andrew Carnegie Medal Nominee for Fiction. Is there an award for best comic novel? If so, this book should be a contender for that, too, because it is hilarious. I'm talking laugh-out-loud, coffee through the nose, tears rolling down the cheek funny. I don't know when I have enjoyed reading a book quite this much.

It took me totally by surprise because I was not familiar with the writing of Andrew Sean Greer, although this is his fifth novel and he is apparently greatly admired in literary circles and by some of the best writers of the day. I definitely want to become better acquainted with him in the future.

Less is Arthur Less, a writer who has so far had a mediocre career. His first book was a moderate success, but he has struggled to follow that up with anything of comparable or greater success.

But it is not just his writing career that isn't going well. Life, in general, is a challenge for Less. He is a homosexual man about to reach his 50th birthday, "too old to be fresh and too young to be rediscovered, one who never sits next to anyone on a plane who has heard of his books." He is further described as "the first homosexual ever to grow old. That is, at least, how he feels at times like these."

He has reached this low point because of a crisis in his personal life. His lover of the last nine years, whom Less refused to commit to, is about to marry another man. Prior to that relationship, Less was for many years the lover of an older man, an acclaimed Pulitzer Prize-winning poet who had encouraged him to write.

Less receives an invitation to his former lover's wedding and he cannot face it. In order to have an excuse for declining, he dredges up all the invitations he has received to participate in literary festivals, award ceremonies, and various other literary events around the world. He accepts all of those invitations and embarks on an around the world trip that will take him to New York (he lives in San Francisco), Mexico City, Turin, Paris, Berlin, Morocco, India, and Kyoto.

But before he leaves on the trip, there is one further humiliation. His current writing project is a novel called Swift, but his publisher hates it and declines to publish it.

And so off he goes, his life at low ebb, wearing his treasured blue suit that was hand-tailored for him years ago in "humid moped-plagued" Ho Chi Minh City.

Arthur's wanderings take him from one disaster to another. They are harrowing but outrageously funny and they are lovingly described with sentences of such lyrical beauty as to make one want to read them over and over again. The chief delight of this book is simply experiencing its language, but a close second is getting to know and love the character of Arthur Less.

For he is entirely lovable. He exudes a warm humanity and he is excellent company on our shared travels because, in spite of all the unpleasantries he experiences, he never wallows in self-pity. (Except perhaps when he contemplates that 50th birthday. That does seem to be a bridge too far even for his imperturbable nature.) Arthur Less connects with people, especially young people. That is his great gift.

As Arthur is winding up his world tour in Kyoto, he receives news of a crisis which impels him to phone his former lover and mentor, the prize-winning poet, who advises him that turning 50 isn't all bad: "It means now people will think your were always a grown-up. They'll take you seriously."

And so, having weathered the dreaded birthday and the wedding of his former lover, Arthur heads home where he will be surprised by love and where we will finally learn the identity of the mysterious narrator of this story. A delicious ending which leaves us happy to know that this character that we've come to care about is in good hands.

My rating: 5 of 5 stars

Poetry Sunday: Don't Hesitate by Mary Oliver

How about we share another Mary Oliver poem? After all, you can never have too many of those. In this one, the poet seems to acknowledge that it is often hard to simply live in and enjoy the moment, perhaps because we are afraid it can't last. She urges us to give in to that moment and fully experience the joy. Although "much can never be redeemed, still, life has some possibility left." Don't Hesitate by Mary Oliver If you suddenly and unexpectedly feel joy, don’t hesitate. Give in to it. There are plenty of lives and whole towns destroyed or about to be. We are not wise, and not very often kind. And much can never be redeemed. Still, life has some possibility left. Perhaps this is its way of fighting back, that sometimes something happens better than all the riches or power in the world. It could be anything, but very likely you notice it in the instant when love begins. Anyway, that’s often the case. Anyway, whatever it is, don’t be afraid of its plenty. Joy is no...

Poetry Sunday: Blackberry-Picking by Seamus Heaney

My mother was a farm wife and a prodigious canner. She canned fruit and vegetables from the garden, even occasionally meat. But the best thing that she canned, in my opinion, was blackberry jam. Even as I type those words my mouth waters! Of course, before she could make that jam, somebody had to pick the blackberries. And that somebody was quite often named Dorothy. I think Seamus Heaney might have spent some time among the briars plucking those delicious black fruits as well, so he would have known that "Once off the bush the fruit fermented, the sweet flesh would turn sour." They don't keep; you have to get that jam made in a hurry! Blackberry-Picking by Seamus Heaney Late August, given heavy rain and sun For a full week, the blackberries would ripen. At first, just one, a glossy purple clot Among others, red, green, hard as a knot. You ate that first one and its flesh was sweet Like thickened wine: summer's blood was in it Leaving stains upon the tongue and lust ...

Poetry Sunday: Hymn for the Hurting by Amanda Gorman

You probably remember poet Amanda Gorman from her appearance at the inauguration of President Biden. She read her poem "The Hill We Climb" on that occasion. After the senseless slaughter in Uvalde this week, she was inspired to write another poem which was published in The New York Times. It seemed perfect for the occasion and so I stole it in order to feature it here, just in case you didn't get a chance to read it in the Times . Hymn for the Hurting by Amanda Gorman Everything hurts, Our hearts shadowed and strange, Minds made muddied and mute. We carry tragedy, terrifying and true. And yet none of it is new; We knew it as home, As horror, As heritage. Even our children Cannot be children, Cannot be. Everything hurts. It’s a hard time to be alive, And even harder to stay that way. We’re burdened to live out these days, While at the same time, blessed to outlive them. This alarm is how we know We must be altered — That we must differ or die, That we must triumph or try. ...

The Nature of Things

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