About thirty pages in, I had a feeling--not wholly unexpected--that Keith Gessen's All the Sad Young Literary Men would be a dud. Another twenty-five pages and my interest is still lukewarm, at best. Now I'm wondering what could've possessed me to begin a book with such a pretentious title. Then I remembered: it cost a whopping $1.70 at one of my local Borders bookstores.
I went on a date last Tuesday which, she and I both agree, went very well. Even if the date hadn't gone well--and a woman who actually owns William Gaddis, William Faulkner, and Ernest Hemingway, among others, is definitely someone I want to see again--there would've been an upshot: as we drove to dinner, I spied an independent bookstore in the plaza. Score!
Wow, a good date AND an independent bookstore, all in one night. Congratulations!
Too bad about "All the Sad Young Literary Men." I love that title.
Posted by: Citizen Reader | January 21, 2009 at 10:12 AM
I don't even care for the title. I had a passing interest in the book when it first came out, so it always stayed in the back of my mind. Reading it, I get the sense that Gessen is tooting his own horn. "Look how smart I am, how edumacated, I went to Harvard and now I publish." Nothing wrong with Harvard or being smart, but Gessen's book just alienates me. It's also really boring. He's just not a storyteller.
Posted by: Brandon | January 21, 2009 at 05:40 PM