
I don't often write about the books I've read. I think this is a direct result of having burned out on academics as an undergrad, tiring of constantly being analytical rather than reading for the sake of reading. Every now and then there's a book that I have to say something about. Today that book is Lucky Man by my friend Ben Tanzer.
Ben is a consistently fantastic writer. I've yet to read something subpar by him, which as a fellow writer spurs me to always be on my game, too. Lucky Man was Ben's first novel and it's a doozie. First of all, it is seriously front-loaded, so much goes down in the first 60 pages that you'll marvel at how much can be fit into that amount of space. Be careful, though, it might make you self-conscious of your own novel...
A lot of messed up stuff goes down in this novel, but there's never a sensationalism, never any kind of lingering sentimentalism, and beyond anything the most affecting aspect of the book is its ability to subtly explore the generation gap between fathers and sons, and the general male discomfort expressing emotions. Even for men who are "in touch" with their emotions it's generally something that has taken growth and still causes angst and reflection in some manner or other. Ben touches on this without making the story hinge on it.
The novel spans years, multiple characters' points of view, and a lifetime of tragedies. And it does so succinctly. Something most writers can't pull off.
Lucky Man isn't Tanzer's best. His best is yet to come (cough cough 2011 cough cough). But it's damn good, and it should be read, if for no other reason than as guide on how to trust the reality around us and turn it into art. I read the almost the entire book yesterday, could barely put it down. Sure, the story was good, but it was the writing that I couldn't stop thinking about. Do yourself a solid and pick up the second edition "red" copy HERE
(as a sidenote, the book also introduced me to an awesome illustrator, check him out HERE)



