Knopf, 117 pp., $18.00
'Your letter was exactly the kind I always want when my friends go back to their native towns,' Louise Bogan wrote to her friend William Maxwell, the young New Yorker editor and writer in 1941, when he was a few years past thirty and at work on The Folded Leaf, his second and arguably finest novel, an elegiac, sometimes brutal portrait of adolescence. 'I want to see and hear the town, but I seldom do. Yes, it is the birds and children, along those streets with their lawns and trees, and I'm glad you remembered the clothesline.'
Review, 2601 words
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