Booklist: Ernest Hemingway down, Stephen Dixon up

I finished A Farewell to Arms tonight, which means I can now direct all my reading-time energies to tackling Stephen Dixon's Frog.

I may have mentioned Interstate already but just in case I haven't: oh holy! It was probably unfair to decide that Stephen Dixon was one of my literary idols after reading one of his novels out of the, what, 20? 30? 40? novels and 400-odd short stories he's published, but there you have it. The book picked me up, turned me over, slapped me around, then dropped me on my head. And I think that was after the first chapter. I could probably discuss the book, and might actually do so if I could find my copy somewhere in my apartment, but let's leave at: somehow, by telling the same story eight different ways in eight consecutive chapters, Stephen Dixon redefined the very idea of "plot". And it does it without being pomo about it. It's all just: here's how it is, and here's how it is, and again, and still you need to know what happens next. That's such a broad notion and a broad way of looking at the book: you could dive into the sentences and paragraphs, the breathless dialogue and the rampant self-corrections and -revisions, and you could not come up for air for weeks. Months, maybe. It's not an easy read but it's a rewarding read. Sometimes you just want to drop the book because it's heavy--even at a mere 374 pages--and sometimes you do. Then you come back. And it just keeps going. And I could keep going because I just found my copy near the window, but I'm going to put it down now and push it away. Otherwise there will be no bed tonight...

So, of course, being quite taken with the book, I looked to the rest of his writings, and picked up a copy of Frog, his 769-page from-what-I-gathered magnum opus. And got about halfway through it before the fatigue set in and I dropped the much-heavier book for good. If Interstate is an eight-lap race that threatens to blow a cylinder at any moment, Frog starts with a walk through the foothills before slamming you in the face with mountains that are glued to comets that streak at you from out of the sky. In other words: heavy.

But now some time's passed and I'm ready to give it another go. It's just not fair to describe the guy as a personal savior without having read at least more than one of his books. I've bit off the first four (out of 21) chapters easy enough which has me to page 60 and each of those chapters is brilliant each in its own peculiar way. But there's a marathon of biblical proportions ahead and getting through even the first 17 chapters doesn't mean much because that gets you less than halfway through the book. Like I said, comet mountains. Did I mention that those 100-to-200 page chapters near the end might be comprised of 3 or 4 paragraphs apiece? I didn't? Comet mountains in funhouse mirrors, kids, and it's time to put the coffee on.