Knopf, 320 pp., $18.95
Starting with its title, Brad Leithauser's new novel has its reader over the proverbial barrel. 'Hence' in the sense of 'away' ('Hence, loathéd melancholy') or in the sense of 'from here forward' ('We'll know for sure a week hence') or in the sense of 'for this reason' ('Hence I conclude that')? But that's only the beginning. Is the book funny or despondent? Probably both; full of funny incidents about despairing people. Does it end happily or sadly? Probably neither; it doesn't end at all, so much as it stops. Is it a novel or what? Though it uses the word a couple of times, the book's favorite expression for itself is 'a meditation in voices.' It has some melodramatic action, but it pauses every so often and just, well, meditates. It's written with verve; it's unpredictable, even in retrospect. Athletic readers will find it fun.
Review, 2138 words
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