Ebb is a novel in the tradition of Gadsby, and A Void, written without the letter A, the third-most used letter in English. It concerns a community of artists and others, engaging in their lives and figuring things out. A Oulipian experiment wherein things fall apart.
Pretty successful novel of constraint, a lipogram in A. Pulls it off successfully. Subject matter throughout is pretty hopeless and grim, would compare to Dennis Cooper or something like that. I'm sort of perplexed by the lack of commas (is it because there's an "a" in the word comma? (I would have considered ampersand a cheat. So happy for the lack of those)) as, to me, the success of a constraint work goes beyond the fact of simply pulling it off and instead comes more towards the moment where the constraint disappears completely in the reading - and the lack of comma makes it all the more apparent and causes, at times, a jarring read. Despite that gripe, the success more than compensates. A feat.
Six stars. This book is better than it needs to be. Meaning, it develops beyond constraint and punches into narrativity (why is there a "you" scrabbling in the basement?) and remarkably, is earnest. I expected a formalist experiment to be ironic, jaded, tongueincheek, or something like that but no, this material is earnestly concerned with living and being.
Lots to admire. The use of "like." The singsong that develops in place of commas and ands.
I cried multiple times, which is my highest praise.