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“To the novel—everyone’s novel—Sorrentino brings honor, culture, and constant passion.”—Don DeLillo

“Sorrentino [is] a author like no different. He’s discovered, companionable, ribald, courageous, mathematical, instantaneously virtuosic and in some way with no ego. Sorrentino’s books cut loose of the regimen that necessarily accompanies conventional narrative and during a passionate renunciation shine with an unforgiving, but detoxing, light.”—Jeffrey Eugenides

“For a compelling, hilarious, and eventually compassionate rendering of existence in mid-20th-century the United States, disregard the conscientious subjectors and take Gilbert Sorrentino at his golden Word.”—Harry Mathews

“One of [Brooklyn]’s so much interesting and actual homegrown abilities, Sorrentino’s Bay Ridge merits to be favored along Malamud’s Crown Heights, Arthur Miller’s Coney Island, Henry Miller’s and Betty Smith’s Williamsburg, Hamill’s and Auster’s Park Slope, and Lethem’s Boerum Hill.”—Bookforum

Titled after a line from Henry James, Gilbert Sorrentino’s ultimate novel involves fifty narrative set items filled with savage humor and cathartic passion—an elegiac paean to the awful global he so brilliantly captured in his lengthy and storied profession. Mirroring the inexplicable coincidences, encounters, and hallmarks of recent lifestyles, this novel revisits established characters—the getting older artists, depressing undefined, crackerjack salesmen, and drunken squaddies of prior books, putting them in established landscapes misplaced in time among the melancholy period and a few fraudulent bohemia of the present


A luminary of yankee literature, Gilbert Sorrentino was once a boyhood buddy of Hubert Selby, Jr., a confidant of William Carlos Williams, a two-time PEN/Faulkner Award finalist, and the recipient of a Lannan Literary Lifetime fulfillment Award. He taught at Stanford for a few years prior to returning to his local Brooklyn and released over thirty books earlier than his loss of life in 2006.

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He's happy that he recollects Fredric March, whom he constantly considered, to be honest, as a hambone. — XXXII — The outdated guy who lived within the condo above his had a mild limp and wore a prosthetic shoe of a few type, black, grotesque, and heavy, and such was once the character of his handicap, that it forced him, it appeared, to put on the shoe forever, in order that he limped and clumped and shuffled approximately on his evidently rugless flooring. as well as this thumping, he performed either his tv and his radio at this sort of excessive quantity that his neighbor might pay attention almost each be aware spoken or screamed via the hysterical or ecstatic or soberly critical activities broadcasters and information anchors and newshounds who have been, it appears, the one representatives of the “news and leisure international” approved into the condominium of the relentlessly noisy previous guy. but the neighbor by no means complained, for he had invented a complete if sketchy heritage for the outdated guy, one that forged him within the function of the outcast and marginalized elder who had misplaced every thing: whose spouse had died in distress; whose teenagers have been callous and ungrateful; who had misplaced his acquaintances to dying and disease and dementia. He dressed badly, in most cases in saggy grey twill pants, pale and threadbare flannel shirts, ragged-edged suspenders, and scuffed and almost colorless footwear, one among which, in fact, used to be the bizarre monstrosity that it appears hardly ever got here off his foot. He used to be definitely a veteran of the second one global struggle, wounded, yet no longer gallantly, in motion and now dwelling precariously on his small incapacity funds and his both small Social protection payment. For what might he were except a clerk in a few place of work within the monetary district, a few frightened not anyone in a sparkly black go well with and not-too-fresh frayed blouse, sporting papers from one dossier drawer to the subsequent for thirty years or extra? He was once a widower, definite, definitely, slightly detritus, flotsam, one in every of life’s insulted; and so if he clumped and banged aimlessly approximately whereas hearing baseball or soccer or basketball or who the hell knew? bowling or billiards or marbles, that used to be yet a minuscule recompense for the lifestyles he used to be dwelling and had lived. One afternoon, the sound of the tv was once so loud that the neighbor’s condominium used to be brutally, virtually, one may say, contemptuously assaulted, the noise a palpable entity within the air, the partitions, the ceiling; the noise appeared to emerge from the drains within the sinks and tub, from the lavatory bowl, it was once merciless. He needed to cross upstairs and ask him to thrill, to delight, to in the event you don’t brain. So he went upstairs. He knocked on the door after which rang the bell of this pathetic, most likely half-deaf outdated guy. He knocked back. The door opened and a lady of maybe 40, now not particularly 40, stunning of face and determine, stood within the doorway. She was once in a yellow raw-silk gown, in part open to bare her near-nude physique, one who the gossamer gown appeared particularly to stress than hide. am i able to assist you? she acknowledged, perhaps. He didn’t recognize what she stated.

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