Churning like a third-world traveler's stomach, Incidents of Egotourism in the Temporary World is a mix of travelogues, dialogues, and narrative essays about finding the unexpected in familiar places. A frustrated shipper of rare books at a Boston bookstore (who refers to himself as "The Egotourist") returns to his parents' suburban New Jersey home to work temporary jobs aChurning like a third-world traveler's stomach, Incidents of Egotourism in the Temporary World is a mix of travelogues, dialogues, and narrative essays about finding the unexpected in familiar places. A frustrated shipper of rare books at a Boston bookstore (who refers to himself as "The Egotourist") returns to his parents' suburban New Jersey home to work temporary jobs and earn enough money to take a hundred buses to Cuzco, Peru. Alternating among essays, dialogues, and short spiels, Incidents of Egotourism in the Temporary World rolls with the Egotourist's restlessness as he tells of long-distance love, Black Sabbath cover bands, flirtatious administrative assistants, minotauric secretaries, and camaraderie in copy centers, all of it heading toward a hard-earned trip south of the border. Ultimately, the Egotourist discovers that what he sought in far-flung destinations is just as easily found in the unexpected exoticism of home....
|Title||:||Incidents of Egotourism in the Temporary World|
|Number of Pages||:||282 Pages|
|Status||:||Available For Download|
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Incidents of Egotourism in the Temporary World Reviews
Read Lee Klein. Read Lee Klein because Lee Klein wrote this piece in praise of Goodreads in a world where “serious” critics look down their Pinocchian noses at the unsalaried reviewer because their reviews are made of passion and verbal excess and homage instead of neat little plot summaries and smug lit-credential-wagging written in the bland house style of archademic periodicals. Also read Lee Klein because as editor of online magazine Eyeshot he took the trouble to respond to submitters with hilarious, individually tailored rejection letters and archived them here. Also read Lee Klein because he wrote this clever novel about a wannabe “egotourist” who spends his time temping and living with his parents and theorising about the adventures he will one day have in order to write his epic Love in the Time of Coca-Cola. Read Lee Klein because this novel is full of terrific sentences in homage to his idols (Proust being a strong one), wonderful observational humour, knowing winks to the middle-class slacker novel (think Coupland), beautiful artwork between chapters, and a cunning meta-autobiographical subplot with the sassiest mom this side of my house. Read Lee Klein because his book is free to download now from here. Read Lee Klein because unlike all GR authors, he only gave his novel four stars as opposed to the predictable five. Read Lee Klein because he took a chance on a young bediveled imp named MJ Nicholls and published this on the excellent Eyeshot. Lee Klein and Lee Klein. That name again: Lee Lee Klein Klein. The best friend you haven’t made yet. (Who was it again? Lee Klein, dummy).
Of the 250 copies of the first and only print run of this book I wrote long ago, THREE are now available on Amazon for <$4. Here's the blurb on the back from a literary agent: "I tried to read this -- I really did. I couldn't find one commercial paragraph that would appeal to a major NY house. In fact, I couldn't find a plot, character development, or a story. In my opinion, it is terribly overwritten -- but overwritten in a way that makes us want to frame a page on the wall because I can't believe anyone could overwrite with such skill for an entire book. Worse than that, I couldn't find a character to latch onto that made me want to continue reading through all this plot-less prose."Here's an interviewfrom back then about the book and other stuff.
The following is short because you won’t believe any of it. This crusty old ancient manuscript/book fell into my hands on account of the utmost generosity of its author. And a gifted=horse is never honest, so just get what you can out of what you read here and damn the rest!!Before you read Incidents of Egotourism in the Temporary World it is suggested that you read ::Joseph & His Brothers by Thomas Mann The World of Yesterday by Stefan ZweigWar and Peace by Leo TolstoyBurton’s Anatomy of MelancholyMcElroy’s magnum opusEverything by Alexander TherouxThe JestMusilProbably ProustPROBABLY everything on Klein’s Favorites=Shelf.The foregoing is the kind of thing that Klein would probably tell you, gentle reader. Some of those items may be my own projection into what Klein should recommend to you. If you read his Incidents of Egotourism in the Temporary World and Thanks and Sorry and Good Luck: Rejection Letters from the Eyeshot Outbox you’ll probably find a few other books you ought to read before reading Incidents of Egotourism in the Temporary World. I mean, you should read Incidents of Egotourism in the Temporary World and probably everything Klein ever wrote ever. It’s just that first, time limitations being what they are, you should read the above listed and related such items. The thing is, this is a young man’s book. That’s not pejorative. But listen. It was written back in 1997 when Klein was of a certain age with certain types of thoughts and urges in his mind, etc. It wasn’t published until seven years later when Klein was a different person. And then I read it yet ten years further on into the future. The books listed above are not young men’s novels. What I’m saying is that Klein took his Egotourism and his Temporary experiences and hammered them into a book, a novel -- (be straight here, it is a novel. Full stop.) And that’s exactly what I did not do ; could have done? Should have done? I don’t know. But I did the exact same thing Lee Klein did (except the part where he took his fact and arranged and charged it with purpose (and meaningfulness, narrative) into Fiction -- I forgot that part). That’s how I know it’s a young man’s book.The other thing here is to make the announcement, in case you haven’t heard, that Klein has what promises maybe to be not a young man’s novel, The Shimmering Go-Between: A Novel. Keep your wallets open for it this Summer!!!
okay, let's call it 4.5 for the enjoyment. A new, exciting review paradigm, including PRIZES!Lee KleinThe boring part of this review: (view spoiler)[Well, make that “boring not unusual”Lee Klein. Goodreads Author. 11 fans (including me).Lee Klein. Regular Goodreads member/reader/reviewer. 535 friends (including me)https://www.goodreads.com/review/show...MJ Nicholls’ review is worth looking at, a young man who knows much more about this sort of writing than I do. The link in his review, to an article written by Klein, is worth following, though the article is long. Please DO NOT follow and read that (now) since you may forget to read the EXCITING part of my own review if you do. https://www.goodreads.com/review/show...Lee Klein’s own review. Endearing to me because I believe it’s the only author’s review of his own work I’ve seen on GR that does not trumpet a 5 star rating. I don’t believe this is false modesty on Klein’s part, rather his judgment that this artistic endeavor is not as good as the artist would wish it to be. (Doesn’t every honest artist feel that about everything they do?)Klein introduces his short review by mentioning the opportunities of still snagging the book on Amazon. Here is a current update from that source:14 used from $27; 3 are under $30; the rest range up to $1608 new from $57; ranging up to $200Get em while they’re hot, I guess,Personally I bought my copy (via Amazon) on this April 4 from Powell’s Books, Used, Good, $3.95 +$3.99 S&H. Turns out it was like new, seemingly unopened, except for the Front Cover, which had been opened far enough for Mr. Klein to slip his hand in and autograph it at some point in its life. https://www.goodreads.com/review/show...And finally the only other review by a GReader whom I know (follow), Nathan “N.R.” Gaddis.In his Introduction Klein saysYou might ask how closely the incidents in the book parallel the writer’s life … What really happened only matters in terms of categorization. So let’s call this collection of black words on white pages what it is: a book. It’s not a novel or a memoir or a travelogue or a collection of short stories or essays or dialogues. It’s all these things. So call it a book. And do with it what you do with books. Open it. Read it in bed. On the subway. On the toilet. …Well I won’t say I stopped reading right there, but I did smile, cause that’s exactly where I was reading it. And that’s where I continued reading it (sporadically) for (view spoiler)[four months!And why did it take me over four months to read? Well, to read it at all I had to find myself in the room where it was, with both the time and the inclination to read a few minutes. There being three such rooms in our house, and activities (such as showering) that would preclude reading even if the time/inclination were present, sometimes days would pass without opening the book. And even to get through these short vignettes (I will call them, to detour around the author’s list of things that the book wasn’t but was often required more than one reading session. Then (having completed one or more vignettes take the book away to a different room where I would (perhaps soon, perhaps a day or days later) compose a suitably interesting/clever (so I told myself) little status composition (of length no more apparently than three tweets worth of characters). This accomplished, the book would need to find its way back to the reading room, and the sequence would be repeated. Then for two-week periods in both July and August I left home for 1300 mile drives to the west, periods during which the book travelled with me but never left the company of 6-8 other books brought along in a large duffel “just in case” – the “case” never occurring.) (hide spoiler)]But finally, a day ago, with probably two or three iterations of the reading sequence to go, I decided that the book needed finishing. So I did, not in the BR but in my usual reading room. And this produced a revelation.Though the short vignettes were perfectly sized and unrelated enough to provide good BR reading, I realized that reading them piecemeal, bit by bit, had been a completely different experience than reading the last several in the more traditional manner. The first method was (I thought) appropriate for the post-modern style; but the second produced the sensation that the book partook much more of traditional literary qualities and merits.But enough of this. I’ll merely add this comment about Klein’s writing. Do not expect long run-on sentences with no punctuation. Do not expect lack of traditional capitalization. Do NOT expect dialogue lacking quotation marks, or any of the other talismans of certain segments of the post-modern literary scene. Not from Lee Klein. His writing can be scanned and understood without puzzlement about the grammar. Yes, you will be presented with challenges involving intricate and unusual structure, a few made up words here and there (in italics as a marker), extremely interesting and well-constructed phrases, etc. You do get the good, without having to wade through the bad. (hide spoiler)]And now The exciting part of this review: (view spoiler)[And unfortunately I must admit that are no actual prizes being offered.BUT WAIT!! Don’t go away …You, my wonderful GR Friend; you too, my appreciated GR Follower; and even you, random unknown passer-by, are being offered the chance to participate in the first (I believe) participatory GR review!!Rather than wasting my time slaving further over this review on my own, I am instead noting below all the markings, notes, symbols, etc, that I peppered this book with as I read it. (view spoiler)[The attentive reader will notice that there’s a large gap in these items, between pages 64 & 191. The explanation? It was quite difficult to make these marks and notes while perched on my BR throne. I had to reach over my shoulder, and find (by feeling about) the pen, which hid in a 5x6, 5 inch tall white knit container filled with shaving supplies, hairbrush, medications, tape, etc. So after those first 60 pages, I just gave up brandishment of the pen as not worth the effort. Until, that is, the brilliant idea dawned on me of extracting the pen from its prison before I assumed my reading stance. From then on (as I remembered this slick trick more frequently) the notations increased in number. (hide spoiler)]And here’s where you come in. You are invited to supply references to the following lists in a comment. For example, you might say “Why did you write “great” on p. 269?” or “why the empty circle on p. 64?” I will then respond to these comments by adding pieces to the review (probably outside all these spoilers).So GO TO IT! Together we will fill out this review. Don’t hesitate! (One question per comment, please.)ASLO … the Reading Progress comments below the review can provide other sources for questions and additional review comments!Notes and scribblings“T-Creek” (21)“good” (two underlines) (28, start of II On Egotourism)“what a story!” (30)“nice” (31)“Good” (one underline) (36, start of IV Leaving Spells Relief”)“A grown-up Holden” (59)“Joycian (Joycistic?) concoction of wordage” (192)“the concert I think” (259)“left behind” (260)“I find the description of the day to day experiences more interesting than the seemingly made-up rambling of such as “The Crow Flies” (262-3)“Perhaps the book proves Crow right” & “that would be this book?” & Almost sounds like Henry Miller” (265)“great” (269)“Great” with prominent squiggly underline (271)“is this anything that Lee actually wrote?” (271)“Arcade Fire” (273)Common markingsUnderlinings: too numerous to count[brackets enclosing text] : dittoVertical lines in the margin, marking passages : dittoDouble vertical lines : 244, 261, 270 (& *)SymbolsSmiley faces: 48, 236Big asterisks: 191, 192, 222, 248, 270 (& double line)Circled asterisks: 260, 263Empty circles: 64, 221, 244, 249, 267, 268Question marks: 180, 259Check marks: 246, 268 (hide spoiler)]Goodnight and good luck!and now following my co-reviewers’ trail markers …I once pledged that I would never wear a tie to work, back when I was suburbia’s favorite trippy dickhead with a mind full of Hesse, hallucinogens, and inaccessible thoughts, back when the passage of time had only been spiraling through me for fifteen years. This recollection by the narrator (never named, except by the sobriquet “The Egotourist” (used by himself and his mom – not his dad) - let’s call him ET), contrasted with the rather hard-working, tie-wearing, punctual temporary that ET is currently inhabiting, caused me to write “A grown-up Holden” when I read it. Though one certainly wonders whether ET really was at fifteen the angrysorrowfulcynicalHoldenCaulfiedIseemtoremember; I think probably not.At one point in the book (180) I looked at “LITTO.CC” and though what the hell is that? … forgetting that this is the book our ET has been working on for several years now, carrying the manuscript about, revising, editing, desperately wanting to get it published if only by the smallest of small publishers. He is taking it with him to South America in that space of time that lies beyond the bow of the present, but is fast approaching at the end of the book. The ET actually considers Love in the Time of Coca-Cola to be a multi-volume document, a history of his travels along the Alphabet of Cities. Austin and Boston already departed, bound for Cuzco.Another back-reference that puzzled me, albeit quite momentarily, was “the Sabbra Cadabra incident”. (259) Hardly had I scrolled “?” on the page when I added “the concert I think” – this an unusual and peculiarly attentive skating down neuron way for this aging reader. Kudos certainly go to the ET for this, since his description of the incident (though occurring far sooner in the book than I had remembered) had made an easily followed track through the network. The “incident” involves a clandestine concert (in the NJ pine barrens I like to believe, probably incorrectly) given by a Black Sabbath tribute band; attended by the ET and some of his best friends from his younger years; accompanied by much eating and drinking; and crowned in the ET’s memory by a dog biting him harshly in the nose. The name of this vignette is, unexpectedly, Here’s Something I’ve Typed Up So If One day You’re Staring at the Center of My Face & Feel Compelled to Ask I Can Just Give You This So I Won’t Have to Repeat the Same Story for the Hundredth Time & Thereby Risk Losing All Sorts of Valuable Soul Points.["br"]>["br"]>["br"]>["br"]>["br"]>["br"]>["br"]>["br"]>["br"]>["br"]>["br"]>["br"]>["br"]>["br"]>["br"]>["br"]>["br"]>["br"]>["br"]>["br"]>["br"]>["br"]>["br"]>["br"]>["br"]>["br"]>["br"]>["br"]>["br"]>["br"]>["br"]>["br"]>["br"]>["br"]>["br"]>["br"]>["br"]>["br"]>["br"]>["br"]>["br"]>["br"]>["br"]>["br"]>["br"]>["br"]>["br"]>["br"]>["br"]>["br"]>["br"]>["br"]>["br"]>["br"]>["br"]>["br"]>["br"]>["br"]>["br"]>["br"]>["br"]>["br"]>["br"]>["br"]>["br"]>["br"]>["br"]>["br"]>["br"]>["br"]>["br"]>["br"]>["br"]>["br"]>["br"]>["br"]>["br"]>["br"]>["br"]>["br"]>["br"]>["br"]>["br"]>["br"]>["br"]>["br"]>["br"]>["br"]>["br"]>["br"]>["br"]>["br"]>["br"]>["br"]>["br"]>["br"]>["br"]>["br"]>["br"]>["br"]>["br"]>["br"]>["br"]>["br"]>["br"]>
http://msarki.tumblr.com/post/8157532...Obviously I finished the novel, or travelogue, or memoir, or whatever it is and now I am sad it is over. Brilliant piece of work. I will be thinking more about the “book” in the coming hours and writing something far too rambling for most people, but necessary for me to get the firmest, most exacting grasp I can on what I just read. A Supposedly Fun Thing I’ll Never Do Again by David Foster Wallace comes to mind and how I hated that essay to end. Not that this book was a group of essays, but maybe they were, kind of. I have every reason to believe that Lee Klein could and should write essays on anything he wants to, even if they’re all made-up lies. He has secured a devoted reader right here in me and I will loudly laud praise, if that means anything to anybody these days. I had hoped Jonathan Lethem was my “new” DFW but he isn’t, though he does write an occasional good piece from time to time (but I really hate his fiction). I have little doubt, actually none at all, that Lee Klein could be the savior for this important genre, if he is so inclined.The story or novel, the book, centers around the narrator called The Egotourist, a young man seeking a better, more meaningful existence, a desire to go beyond his present life of working in a smelly BBQ joint in Texas, or followed by working in a bookstore in Boston, and then with inspiration from his girlfriend Hannah finally deciding to move back home to New Jersey and live with his parents while earning enough money working temporary jobs in order to pay his way for his next escape by bus to Cuzco, Peru in order to travel for fun and teach English. Living sometimes too-much together in this parental home is his mother, an abstract painter who cusses and carries on existential arguments with her son, a father who has devoted his retired years of his life to playing tennis and watching videocassettes of his matches and old discovered films, and the family dog. Klein manages to bring them all to life as his story as a temp unfolds. Lee Klein, I have to believe, is a very interesting person simply given the wonderful book of his, Incidents of Egotourism in the Temporary World. The characters he created were obviously all interesting and important to the narrator of the book, The Egotourist. His mother, The Postmenopausalist, his best friend Crawley, another friend Stewart and his dog, his father the tennis player, and the love of his life Hannah who lives too-far-away-for-me in Chapel Hill. Several of the temporary jobs are described in detail in which stories develop from these circumstances. There is no way that Lee Klein could have kept my attention without his “truthful”, demonstrative, and comedic descriptions of his characters and their conversations. It is my theory that to be able to do this continually he himself has to be interesting too. The personality of a writer has to come through the work for it to have any meaning at all for me. There are many cases where the writer turns out to be somebody I am not interested in reading because I simply do not like him or her personally. Michael Chabon and Jay McInerney come immediately to mind. Yes, I did like McInerney’s Bright Lights, Big City and yes, I did like one of the early books of Michael Chabon’s, the title of which escapes my memory today but it was something about The Mysteries of Pittsburgh. But I wouldn’t want to have coffee with either one of these fellows. I once wrote McInerney to see if I could mail him a copy of his hit book for him to sign for me and he answered that he didn’t do that sort of thing. I guess he was trying to be like Mr. Salinger, but a little bit too full of himself, as he was no Salinger as far as I was concerned. His subsequent books have proven I was correct in my assumption unless you insist on being a lover of crap. And there are other writers that meant more to me as a younger man than they mean to me now such as Jim Harrison and Thomas McGuane, two of my very favorite escapists of the past. Both of their personalities engaged me in wanting to be friends with them. But they are both too many years older and they both never really changed much through the course of their lives to re-engage my still-waning interest in them. They both wrote some of the funniest and serious pieces of fiction for me that I have ever read, but nothing since during their long and prosperous careers. Keep in mind I said “some” and nowhere near the best. Even their non-fiction works interested me for a period of my life when I was searching for a life that I could live. Harrison’s Just Before Dark was a fun read that included several cooking, drinking, and walking episodes in many of his essays. Sons, by McGuane, was a favorite also for a short period. Though they both spend most time in the West, Harrison has a home on the Leelanau Peninsula and a cabin in the Upper Peninsula of Michigan and I believe Thomas McGuane was either from Michigan originally or he went to school somewhere like MSU. It was this Michigan connection that attracted me to them in the first place. J.D. Salinger’s work always interests me. His life did not. I never wanted to be pals with Mr. Salinger but I respect and love his fiction as much as any I have read. I do think I would have liked him personally, but he did not want to be friends nor did he really want his life to be known or made over. Ernest Hemingway did. Not only did Hemingway have a swashbuckling personality almost larger than life, it came through in his writing and yes, I would have liked to have been friends with Hemingway. Gordon Lish I am friends with and I love his personality, so charming, clever, and Jewish in his fears and foibles. I also love what he does on the page and the stage. Lish is still surprising me today even with his latest piece of fiction Gnat published in The Antioch Review. Thomas Bernhard, the great Austrian writer now dead some decade and a half, could have been another great friend of mine if he was so inclined to have me for a neighbor. His dark view on society and government, the people he believes call the shots, the silly prizes they dole out, all of his work both a joy and a burden to read. Bernhard can wear you out if you tackle too many of his books consecutively, but there really has been no better writer on the planet than Thomas Bernhard. Cormac McCarthy is always very good and I think he would be an interesting and engaging person to know. So intelligent and gifted. He might be a tad too serious for me on a personal level, but I do find his work compelling. There are plenty of writers who interest me for at least one book and then I feel I have seen it all and there just isn’t enough personality left in them to keep me engaged. Gary Lutz is a good example of an extremely talented writer, gifted supremely in the use of language, but because of his personality, his lack of putting forth the very best and most interesting parts of himself, he remains mired in the place setting of his own choosing which is one of a victim for lack of a better word. Sort of like his fate in life or what the gods have given him to deal with on a daily basis. He is one of the nicest writers I have known but he does not let too many people, if any, get too close. I remember once in class when Gordon Lish attempted to get him to change a sentence he had written to "resorting to my unresortful life". I always thought that was pretty clever of Lish, but Gary never changed it. There isn’t anything I really do know for a fact about Lee Klein. If he really does drive an old Subaru as The Egotourist does it is with my honor and pride that I admit to driving one too, except mine is a 2006 model with only about 117,000 miles on it. Yet, and in a most respectful way, I believe he is something in the spirit of the following adjectives and more: intelligent, well-read, informed, kind, clever, funny, discerning, loving, sarcastic, charming, critical, and voluble. I don’t know anything about his personal life. I couldn’t possibly know if he has substance abuse problems, fears of intimacy, gender issues, if he is athletic, uncoordinated, or disabled. But the man sure can write. I love to read what he has to say about his people and their things they find important, his jobs, his mom and dad, the dog, his girl Hannah, and the rest of the mad and delicious characters almost flashing through every story it seems. The chapter Arguments in Favor of a Generally Unpopular Belief is one of the very best rants ever written by anyone. I am envious of Klein’s talent for making his rant not only clear but so enjoyable to read and to think about afterwards. The entire piece was masterly written and one I will certainly attempt to beat with one of my very own rants to come. And it is, or may be, highly unlikely I will succeed. The chapter Brave Men Run is a beautiful love story. I felt, throughout the book and now even a few hours since reading it, hopeful for Hannah and The Egotourist, that their love for each other will survive the time and distance it takes for him to run as his granddad did, but in this instance the trip he’s taking isn’t to Poland, and maybe not as fast, but the question remains at least in his case as maybe for this god’s sake, “what for?”
Lee Klein's post modern assemblage of travelogue, diary and witty narrative essay is charming, funny and warm spirited. A restless and frustrated seller of rare books busies himself with episodic spurts of temp work to finance his rambles across the globe to reach Peru. A suave and hip prose style, Lee Klein's love of lit is apparent, and it reverberates through his writing. Good fun this'un. Makes one stop, look around and remind oneself about one's time-and-place.
This is a beautiful heartfelt book, but with the distance, perspective and intelligence that keeps it clear of sentimentality. It’s also very funny - I lost track of how many times I laughed out loud, and I did not come for laughs. And it’s also romantic. I totally related to the life of the urban/suburban temp worker with a need for travel and fleeing the scene, and there’s the added dilemma of risking a love relationship. Many of us have been there, but this book is down to earth and lofty at the same time, with turns of phrase and vocabulary, along with his general skilled prose, that are really inspiring. It’s special, but not attention-grabbing, and not overly poetic or overwrought, although some images and scenes are quite striking. The whole thing comes off as natural and free-flowing, with insight, compassion and depth, not to mention wonderful meaningful memorable scenes. The pacing, too, is great - the short separately titled sections, interlined with artwork, too, keeps the feel episodic, soulful, and a bit meditative. That artwork, created by Barbara Klein (the author’s mother), preceding each chapter also adds to the feel of the whole book as a personal story and a personal work of art. I will specifically mention that I appreciated these “ideograms” more when I was able to magnify them on my ereader, which revealed the intended three-dimension-like depth of these seemingly black and white abstract drawings (though the cover artwork of my paperback copy has muted greens and browns and chalk-boardy blues.) Oh, btw, some of the dialogue between mother and son is quite funny; she’s a “character”, and the relationship is intriguing - she, “the Postmenopausalist artist”, seems competitive and encouraging, opinionated and a bit bossy, but with some wisdom and earned perspective. The egotourist writer stands his ground and there are verbal fireworks - the two artists have differing opinions on many things, including writing, marketing her art, love and relationships, and the meaning of desecration and defecation, lol. In fact, there seems to be a juxtaposition between the youngish hero and the woman he loves but may leave, and the hero’s parents’ traditional, perhaps staid, suburban marriage.Of course, almost no books are perfect, and it’s always best to keep expectations lower than higher. In my opinion, the first half rates 5 stars and the second half was almost as good, but the author doesn’t even call this a novel, so maybe don’t expect it to read like one. In sum, this book is: literary, romantic, idealistic, hip, very funny, and inspiring. I could not help but root for the narrator, and the book made me want to get some of my own experiences down on paper. “Who could ask for anything more?”
"I write these letters that simultaneously reject her and make love to her." -p.180"There's nothing easier to predict than the failure of someone who tries ritualizing an experience." -p.233
"These are the mysteries behind the mechanisms of the machine."
A must-read for all Lee Klein completists.