What if the private detective you might pay to find someone long gone thinks to hire you; or money lent for him gets spent on home improvement; or if relations among a group of friends and lovers go on not so much too long as in new angles to exchange poignant energies even of ending? Is it literally some chemistry we're in or motion with its partial randomness?
Joseph McElroy is an American novelist, short story writer, and essayist.
McElroy grew up in Brooklyn Heights, NY, a neighborhood that features prominently in much of his fiction. He received his B.A. from Williams College in 1951 and his M.A. from Columbia University in 1952. He served in the Coast Guard from 1952–4, and then returned to Columbia to complete his Ph.D. in 1961. As an English instructor at the University of New Hampshire, his short fiction was first published in anthologies. He retired from teaching in 1995 after thirty-one years in the English department at Queens College, City University of New York.
McElroy's writing is often grouped with that of William Gaddis and Thomas Pynchon because of the encyclopedic quality of his novels, particularly the 1191 pages of Women and Men (1987). Echoes of McElroy's work can be found in that of Don DeLillo and David Foster Wallace. McElroy's work often reflects a preoccupation with how science functions in American society; Exponential, a collection of essays published in Italy in 2003, collects science and technology journalism written primarily in the 1970s and 1980s for the New York Review of Books.
He has received the Award in Literature from the American Academy of Arts and Letters and fellowships from the Guggenheim, Rockefeller, and Ingram Merrill Foundations, and the National Endowment for the Arts.
un petit morceau of Joe is not narrow or fallow, shallow or malapropos, so go, fellow aficionado, go! Read slow! Be thorough! This virtuoso, this head-honcho of Pro- se, know s, ok? he KNOWS shit, and he writes like a bloody dream. So set aside an hour and see how this lovely little thing takes you. Then go read the rest of the old fella'
I liked "Taken from him" a bit better. They both pose a background mystery and play with confusion, but Preparations feels more social (inter-subjective), whereas Taken is more intra-subjective.
It so weird. His writing is simple - the "plot" is simple, he doesn't use fancy words, yet it is so easy to get lost. The sentences seem simple, but are very deceptive.
I always feel like you are listening in on something more-or-less mundane (OK, there is a private detective), but it feels confusing but in a hard to put in words way.
So freaking fascinating.
(I'd so like to read more of his stuff, but most my reading time is very late in the evening when babies finally sleep, so tired, and this needs attention and focus... Actually you need to 100% focus in order to achieve the hypnagogic feeling of the book, which is hard when you are at the edge of the actual (physiological) hypnagogic state of your own....) :)
Enos wants to hire a private detective to find his father, but his friends don't want to lend him the money and everyone knows more than they're letting on. Written in a clipped style, Joseph McElroy's chapbook poetically renders the evolving nature of a group of friends, through the lense of laid back paranoia. The detective that nobody can figure out if Enos has hired, or if he did where he got the money, hangs around until even he is unsure of his relationship with the group. There aren't any real answers here, just circumstances and people. It's life imagined and made truer for it.
Upon a second reading, I've upped my review to four stars. This novella was excised from Women and Men and really only coheres within the context of the latter's themes and structures and styles. The circumlocutions of Bet, Enos, Susan, Mary, Dectective Korn - not to mention the yet more distant satellite of Enos's father, Matt - perfectly contain, advance, and expound Women and Men's bipartite elements of realist vignette and colloidal unconscious.