Elroy Nights

Elroy Nights by Frederick Barthelme (2003) I kind of ignored Frederick Barthelme because I got him mixed up with Donald Barthelme (his brother) and John Barth (dumb of me) and Barth Hudson (just kidding), but then I read something David Shields wrote about him and it made me think I'd like his books. Then I also read that he was in the Red Crayola (a band from the early Eighties; I had one of their records—it was great—I wish I still had it). He has published a lot of novels, so somehow I picked this one—it's about an art professor in or near Biloxi, Mississippi, separated from his wife, who gets involved with a student. We're in a point in time where pretty much all women are going to roll their eyes at this summary, and most men will express disapproval. But what can I say, we are attracted to youth. As an officially “older” person, I have to accept that, I'm forced to, and it's best to not take it personally—I mean the perception of me as old. A story about an old guy who's attracted to a young woman can be okay, even quite compelling, if it's handled in an interesting way, and for me, this was. Frederick Barthelme is considered a minimalist, I guess—all I know is, after reading this, I like his writing. It's effortless to read and feels like it was effortless to write, though it probably wasn't. Among the wide world of novelistic stories, people probably consider this one as a story in which nothing happens, but for me (and I guess I'm kind of extreme as far as my personal story preferences go), far too much happened. I would have been cool with much less. I could read endless novels about breakfast at Waffle House and little else. I might add that the dialogue was almost painfully naturalistic—I don't know if I've read anything where I was more convinced by the dialogue. So much so that I think it made me yearn for stylized, unnatural dialogue. All this sounds like criticism, and maybe it is, but I loved this book, and I intend to read more by him.