Mice 1961

by Stacey Levine

FINALIST, 2025 PULITZER PRIZE IN FICTION
RECIPIENT, 2025 AMERICAN BOOK AWARD

Stacey Levine's most recent novel recounts a pivotal day in the fraught relationship of two orphaned sisters through the eyes of their obsessively observant housekeeper, Girtle. Will Jody be able to cope if her younger sibling Mice, subject to constant harassment in their community for her unusual appearance and habits, leaves home? How will their all-watching companion convey her fierce attachment to them both? As a Greek chorus of local characters cavort and joke their way through a neighborhood party, the sisters and their ardent admirer cross paths with an unsettling stranger--leading to momentous changes for all.

Set in southern Florida at the peak of Cold War hysteria, Mice 1961 is a powerful meditation on belonging and separateness, conformity and otherness.

Genres: Fiction, Historical Fiction, Literature, Novels, 21st Century, Family

260 pages, Paperback

First published March 19, 2024

About the author

Stacey Levine is the author of Pulitzer Prize Finalist Mice 1961. Her other books--The Girl with Brown Fur, Frances Johnson, Dra---, and My Horse and Other Stories, have a devoted following of readers.

Levine's work has garnered a Pulitzer Prize fiction finalist nomination, a PEN fiction award, and Stranger Genius Award in Literature. Her fiction has appeared in The Brooklyn Rail, Fence, The Iowa Review, Yeti, The Fairy Tale Review, Your Impossible Voice, Golden Handcuffs Review, and other venues.

www.staceylevine.com

Reviews

[S̶e̶a̶n̶ · Rating 5 out of 5]

Today is the long-awaited publication day for this remarkable new novel by the inimitable Stacey Levine. You're unlikely to read anything like it, either this year or possibly ever. So, prepare to climb into a time machine back to the year 1961 and an eccentric small town in southern Florida where every passing moment feels monumental. Don't sleep on this one, folks.

[Mallory Drazin · Rating 4 out of 5]

Flannery O’Connor on shrooms.

[Julene · Rating 5 out of 5]

Mice 1961, a novel by Stacey Levine, might be called a coming of age story for a girl with the nickname Mice. Her and her half sister Jody are alone, their mother, Candy, died. Mice, original name Ivy, was called Ice by her sister who couldn't pronounce Ivy, which became Mice, is albino. Levine creates a world. Mice spends her time making radios and sneaking out running through the town in Florida. One day Gertle sees them and invites herself to join them as a helper, she sleeps on a pallet behind their couch. She too is a lurker and hider, like Mice who is pursued and harassed by the local teens, to find secret places to slip into and escape.

This is a novel about hiding in this sense of how much disappearance happens. Mice slowly begins to speak up for herself, to the teens, to the neighbor, who is also obsessed by radios and monitoring the situation with Cuba. It's the time of the Cold war. Gertle is the narrator of the book. She never had a home till now and we learn she escaped a home that was probably a place for orphans. She makes constant comments similar to this, " ...I envied all neighbors even while the soon-to-intrude helper gnawed constantly at my mind, for, likely very quickly, he would wipe out my spot in the story."

We're carried into these lives through the book with all leading to a party where all the neighborhood shows up. Will the intruder/helper show up? Will Mice follow her sister's desires to get a job at the bookmobile?

The language and the names in this novel are terrific. If you like quirky stories this is a definite book you’ll want to read.

[Nate D · Rating 4 out of 5]

Stacey Levine's three novels (with this after a two decade gap!) trace the machinations of the thinnest forms of genre romance fiction. Here, in story that unfolds mainly in one extended, chaotic party scene with dozens of characters, this comes mostly through the narrator's obsession with what she sees as the inevitabilities of narrative, particularly that a romantic interest must eventually impose itself on the central relationship. The narrator is a memorable construction, barely a character at all (often narrating unseen from behind the couch or under drain spouts to avoid taking part in the action) yet intrusive to extremes, not only by imposing her interpretations and desires on all that unfolds, but constantly monitoring a barely glimpsed extra who she's sure controls the outcome of the plot, no, the book, the book she seems to know she is in. Thoroughly peculiar, caught up in bizarre incidental conversation. A bit like Mauve Desert unfolding at Gerald's Party, mostly less overtly postmodern until you're walloped with something like this:

It's hard to know what a book is. Inside, a slender span of clock time is stored incognito. The book sits among others on the shelf for decades until its pages grow sclerotic, unable to turn; its relevance fades. Its story might manage to slide into the next book on the shelf and commune with this new book. Life contains many more surprising liberations than this. Out of that mingling, a new story arises, holding more joy than the first. Its afterword glows.

[T · Rating 2 out of 5]

I feel like this book was written by someone from another planet. The prose is the right amount of weird to be original, the premise is fantastic, and white-haired inquisitive Mice is irritating even when confined to the book’s pages. But the characters are too many and the dialogue is nonsensical and the most interesting elements of the story are teased and dropped without a second thought.

[manasa k · Rating 4 out of 5]

oh luv! the suffocation of small towns and the encroaching nature of reality seeping into neighborhood gossip felt very salient to read about in my childhood bedroom. all roads lead back to pirate radio for me. also ridiculously funny some of the best use of italics i've ever read.

[cycads and ferns · Rating 4 out of 5]

"Then I'll meet you at the party," I said simply, standing, adding casually, as if suddenly remembering, "Oh and Mice…You know —the signal?"
She looked up at me. "What signal?"
"Oh Mice!" I hissed. "You were supposed to leave the range on so I'd know if you were going to the cottage with me. And you like the dark? Well the cottage is dark. Why not go there with me? Come on!"
"Why?"
"So we can sit in chairs for so long that maybe we'll go out somehow and not be what we are. Don't you want to try?"

[Max · Rating 4 out of 5]

I see people are calling the book weird, absurdist, etc, but this is basically exactly what I imagine 1960s Miami suburbs were like.

[Sherron Wahrheit · Rating 4 out of 5]

Set in 1961 Miami with three main characters. Two sisters on the cusp of adulthood are dealing with the recent death of their mother. Instead of branching out to make their way in the world, they are alternatingly grasping each other and then pushing away. The younger sister is nicknamed Mice, afflicted by a number of ailments including albinism; she is incessantly picked on by the town’s flock of teenage girls. She’s taken care of by her barely older sister who also can barely cope.

And then there is the narrator. Whew-eee! She’s a well-read new-comer to town, and the oddest, poor thing. A life-long loner, an orphanage runaway at sixteen, and now at least in her twenties or maybe thirties. She dislikes participating but loves to watch, hidden behind a couch, among buses, or behind a curtain. Always watching from a distance, you’d think she’d be a natural reporter. Disjointed, hallucinogenic—to the extreme of paranoia—the narrator is like a wobbly fresh mozzarella, balanced on a precipitous wire cheese cutter that she herself holds.

This writing is NOT for everyone. People who want to come away refreshed and full of new quotes and wisdom should stay away. I’m still wondering what it is I just read. I think mebbe instead I had just been staring at a Jackson Pollack. How to decide how many stars when it’s so unique and avant gard? Even though I didn’t understand every single word, I certainly appreciate it more than if I had grokked every single bit. While very, ah, different, it seems in good company with traditional southern gothic.

[Reisse Myy Fredericks · Rating 5 out of 5]

This quietly bombastic gem plumbs the architecture of storytelling itself, somehow melding a Greek chorus, spy thrillers, Jell-o recipes, and Florida Gothic into a mystifyingly delicious work of literary fiction about omnipresent Cold War tensions that resonate all too deeply in 2026.

A truly brilliant study of the uncanny, and of meaning-making at large. Mesmeric, unsettling, and distinctive, this feels like a sleeper hit in the weird-girl canon. Going in blind to its plot maximizes both the wonder and the claustrophobia.

[Richard Anderson · Rating 5 out of 5]

Strange, otherworldly study of sisterly love.

[Lawrence Jacobson · Rating 5 out of 5]

Perfect for book groups. (Mine loved it.) Entertaining (and less somber than the above blurb suggests), with a singular point of view and sense of humor, but also the depth and insight to lead to any number of fascinating conversations. A wonderful read!

[oldgradstudent · Rating 5 out of 5]

A dazzling, dizzying, and delightful contemporary novel of manners. Levine takes a complex look at two sisters who spend a good amount of time at a party. Many voices and an unusual narrator. I believe that I will be trying to figure out what it all means for weeks.

[Howard · Rating 1 out of 5]

The only reason I know of this book's existence is for its recent (and surprise) Pulitzer Prize for Fiction citation. It's genuinely exciting when a new (to me) authorial voice instantly commands relevant critical attention. I immediately grabbed the ONE copy that my state's library system had as soon as I could place the hold. It's one of the most peculiar novels I've ever read, and I couldn't get past the artificiality of everything I was reading that drew needless attention to itself on every page. Unnecessary rhetorical devices ("the story's helper"), odd language juxtapositions, languid plot pacing, structureless story, vague descriptors, heightened tonality, etc. I could relish in the Cold War-era paranoia of it all, but the tale of two, alienated half-sisters at odds with each another after the tragic passing of their mother in 1961 Miami is a very flimsy premise for a novel. Standing between them is the oddest character of all, a housekeeper and escaped state ward patient named Girtle who relates the story with a fixed, all-knowing obsession regarding the sisters, seemingly able to hide practically anywhere without being seen by others (because she's so insignificant) and conveniently omniscient (analyzing the tale from old age as an unreliable narrator). I didn't necessarily need a happy ending for Jody and Mice (a childhood nickname that sadly stuck; real name Ivy), but this might have been the first time where an author's odd fixations and specific worldview altered my enjoyment of the writing to such a significant degree that I considered not finishing it. "Mice" is endlessly bullied by the local high-school children for her disabilities: albinism and what surely sounds like (but wouldn't have been properly diagnosed back then) autism. The novel fetishizes otherness and condescends to the reader at every turn. I was infuriated at the relentless taunting Mice received, knowing that this era's antiquated attitudes on gender, race, mental illness, and the like would greatly annoy my modern sensibilities in both its narrowmindedness and cruelty. I hate to be made to feel above the characters I'm reading, as if the author has zero empathy for them whatsoever. (The DSM didn't even remove homosexuality as a mental disorder until 1974.) Jody is a shrill, antagonistic mouthpiece for the novel's nagging sense of dread and anxiety. Mice is so off-putting and annoying in general. Way too many characters to keep track of at a "spring party" that the main characters reference for over a hundred pages, only for the actual party to delve into a showcase of town oddities spouting random grievances, decade-specific pop minutiae, and a growing suspicion over the Bay of Pigs invasion. The dynamic between the three women instantly reminded me of Rebecca, only sisters instead of a husband and new wife; dead mother instead of dead first wife; and a docile, more idiosyncratic version of Mrs. Danvers. The fact that this awful book was positioned by an agenda-setting, activist Fiction jury to possibly WIN the Pulitzer over James would have been a literary scandal for the ages that this storied award might have never fully recovered from. Glad that the Board said, "Not today, Satan!" and chose the rightful winner. Weak, yet inevitable conclusion. The cover image has absolutely nothing to do with the contents of the novel itself. It's a stock image from a 1961/62 short film called Strop by Věra Chytilová. After reading a brief synopsis of that work, it's clear that Girtle was heavily influenced by the character of Marta, and I'd much rather seen that film than read this novel. I hoped to gain at least some needed insight into what I just experienced, since there are no significant reviews to read beyond a pay-walled Washington Post entry by author Lydia Millet. I still would have hoped for a better and more meaningful cover. I've never heard of Verse Chorus Press either, but I wouldn't mind discovering more of their output in the future. But not this author. Never again.

[Corey Davis · Rating 2 out of 5]

it's absurd, on purpose. it's cryptic, on purpose. it's pretty much plotless, on purpose. i just can't for the life of me figure out what that purpose is supposed to be. these elements (in addition to an overarching metafictional framework) understandably make this book difficult to market, but i really think the given synopsis is suckering innocent bystanders into a reading experience much more atmospheric and confounding than they're prepared for. pockets of whimsy and intrigue do exist here, but it's mostly just insufferable characters talking in circles about nothing in particular. it's literally ALL vibes...except the vibes are the kind that guarantee you a tension headache.

[Chanel Baron · Rating 3 out of 5]

A strange post modern read. Interesting. I enjoyed this quote:

“I leaned in, wanting to tell her that people can often be kind, mild, and benign, yet I said nothing, for no specific examples came to mind”

[Debbie · Rating 4 out of 5]

I didn’t dislike it but I think the authors quirkiness was a bit lost on me. It is really inventive and mesmerizing and held my attention. It seemed to have ended abrubptly and I can’t help but wonder if Mice was eaten by a crocodile in the corn field. 🥴

[Jack · Rating 3 out of 5]

Some parts of this book are so cool and so weird.

The perspective, off rip, sets up so many questions and weird social situations. You’re off balance and confused and then given very few answers. I loved how few answers you’re given.

The characters of Mice and Jody aren’t given nearly enough time to blossom to the degree that I wanted. Mice is such a creature, really just a weird semi-troubled girl, and treated so poorly by everyone but does have support in fits and starts.

Girtle! Such a great mind and so interesting to see the story, and what she builds as the story from her perspective. So precocious and uncertain, weird and beautiful.

And then the middle third of the book is this onslaught party where everyone is speaking and talking over each other and you’re barely able to keep up or know what is going on or what is worth paying attention to. This is where u think the book is the most experimental and maybe it’s opportunity to most succeed, and where it most lost me.

[Nicknjeffers · Rating 4 out of 5]

A super interesting and fun read, built around a somewhat daring, extremely weird, and incredibly funny choice of narrator: everyone's least favorite freakazoid, Girtle, takes the reader on a confusing but enthralling romp one day in 1960's Miami. Despite the absence of any obvious, normal stakes, Levine's ability to create and hold tension was pretty remarkable, and I had trouble putting down the book down, so i could find out....whether someone was turning a stove on? Whether someone was attending a party? What some random girl named Trudy wrote in a letter to a magazine? It's weirdly fun stuff.

Writing quality is what you'd expect given the accolades, though the added oddness of the structure made it at least a little extra fun to read - a refreshing change of pace from the usual 3P close.

Add to that that the book pulls-off a fresh take social castes / othering and real vs perceived malevolence, and you get an extremely successful book and a super worthy read. Definitely would recommend to those inclined towards contemporary literary fiction.

[Robert Morgan Fisher · Rating 5 out of 5]

Echoes of Beckett, Coover and Donald Antrim. Also Flannery O'Connor. I lived briefly in Florida as an infant and it's always been my least-favorite state. A novel set there in 1961 is, on one level, my idea of hell, but Levine's technique of using a POV that is part writer and discussing the plot in craft terms is cool. Also her use of language, the way she often caps a section or paragraph with a neo-poetic reflection, getting adventurous with similes and metaphors. I like that kind of writing. This unusual and something of a watershed novel for Stacey Levine, whose short stories I am very familiar with.

[Patrick Tierney · Rating 5 out of 5]

4.5 up. Wow, what an experience. I was enthralled by the prose and the fast moving dialogue. There might have been a hundred characters, impossible to keep straight, but somehow it didn’t matter. I can’t believe that this Pulitzer finalist is so lightly reviewed. Not for everyone, but definitely for me and I’ll check out her other books the year ahead.

[Peter Chase · Rating 5 out of 5]

Mice 1961 excels on so many levels.

The characters are wonderful. We see them at their worst, most petty, and we see them at their best, when their caring for each other, their compassion, kicks into gear. After the first long chapter of the book I felt like an observer, judging the characters. Not one seemed good. I feared the book was leading toward a nihilistic, cynical view of the world. By the end, however, I appreciated every one. Fleshed out, they seemed real. Most were neither all good nor all bad, but doing their best. Trying.

The dialogue was stunning. The intensity of emotions in one fight between two sisters, for example, was shocking, and totally believable. The utter pandemonium of a multi-person social event, the chaos of so many people, each with quirks and idiosyncrasies, personal tragedies and agendas, seeming to speak all at once at a party, was spectacular. It seemed so real. Levine captures it like I’ve seen nowhere else. By the end, I was no longer just observing and judging, but rather, immersed. I had joined the crowd.

This book is a challenging read, not an easy bathtub book. But it’s deeply rewarding. And fun.

It’s as if the author is including us in a game she played with character and street names and various mythologies. She created a puzzle for us, a game fun to play, but also a game which might lead us toward something profound. She created a world in which myths of old live on through us, a world where we become who we are, we achieve fulfillment, in part by finding Our Way to add to the story of humanity, much as the reef was formed by coral, generation after generation, beneath the feet of these characters from Miami.

I loved this book.

SPOILER ALERT: Clues for this (possible) interpretation of Mice 1961.

Mice: Apollo was known as the Lord of mice (https://turkisharchaeonews.net/site/g...). Mouse was a surname of Apollo. “[T]he mouse was considered by the ancients... as the symbol of prophetic power.” (https://pantheon.org/articles/s/smint...)

THE BLUR: The Greek Hermes and Roman Mercury both share traits with The Blur. Hermes was a “God of jokes and journeys, thieves and magicians, the tricky guide of souls” (https://thisjungianlife.com/episode-2... he was a prankster (https://www.igreekmythology.com/herme...). In this book, The Blur wears heavy framed glasses which hold no lenses. Upon arriving at the party, he exclaims, “Here’s my potluck dish. Gelatin…. It’s flavorless,” boasted The Blur…. “See? This dessert is gray…. The Blur might’ve grinned, but it was hard to tell, for, all nerves, he danced around, then sped off, stopping short for a moment, as if unable to decide where to go.” (Kindle page 103)

Hermes and Mercury were often depicted with winged sandals, representing speed and swift movement (https://greek.mythologyworldwide.com/...). The Blur was, well, the Blur; he was always moving, rushing, as on Kindle page 103, above, and Kindle page 44 where he seemed to materialize on the sidewalk with a “blast of spring wind”.

HOUSEMATES: The Fates, in Greek mythology, are three sister gods (https://greek.mythologyworldwide.com/...

A. The Spinner of Life: Responsible for spinning the thread that represents an individual’s life. On Kindle Page 60, a loose thread appears on Girtle’s blouse. This fascinates Mice. Does Girtle play the role of the Spinner of Life?

B. The Allotter of Destiny: The middle sister’s role is to measure the length of the thread spun by the Spinner of life. Again, as referenced above, Mice is mesmerized by the string on the Girtle’s (the spinner’s?) blouse. She bends her mouth to the string and eats it. On its own, in the “real” world, a reader might find this act odd. It may seem more reasonable, however, if her character is seen both as human, a normal resident of Reef Way, Miami, and simultaneously personifying the ancient story of one of the sisters, the Fates. Eating the string, measuring the thread from the Spinner of Life, gives Mice new confidence. She stands up to Girtle, who is attempting to keep her from leaving the apartment, telling her “sometimes rules change” (K pg. 60). A few pages later, on Kindle page 64, Girtle reports that Mice “ate the string and got stronger. I saw it happen.”

C. The Cutter of Life: The eldest sister is “the most final of the three, as she is responsible for cutting the thread of life, thus bringing an end to an individual’s existence.” (from mythologyworldwide.com, after Housemates, above.) On Kindle page 84, Jodi claims to “take refuge in it… in death’s absoluteness. It’s a force we should admire.” On Kindle page 114, Girtle observes “Jodi’s intensity, severity, and downturning mouth” which made her “believe that she might, in her mind’s eye, be foreseeing her own death.” At Kindle page 219, three of Jodi’s friends rush upstairs toward her, “their six feet battering the wood”, in a panic, as if afraid Jodi might be contemplating suicide (Their concern began on Kindle pg. 217)

BOATSMANN: Throughout the novel, people express concern for a dog, missing from the neighborhood. At the novel’s conclusion (Kindle page 227), the dog returns, and recognizes and runs toward Gertle. Its name is Boatsmann.

A. Boatsman of the Underworld: An article titled “The Boatsman of the Underworld in Greek Mythology” describes “Charon, the ferryman of the dead… a guide for souls—who transports the deceased from the world of the living to the world of the dead.” [World History EDU, Oct. 29, 2024 https://worldhistoryedu.com/charon-th...]

B. Anubis the Canine: Plays a role similar to that of the Greek Boatman in religions of Ancient Egypt. Anubis “is depicted as a black canine, a jackal-dog hybrid with pointed ears, or as a muscular man with the head of a jackal…. The powerful black canine… was the protector of the dead who made sure they received their due rights in burial and stood by them in the life after death to assist their resurrection.” [World History Encyclopedia https://www.worldhistory.org/Anubis/]

DEATH, OR HAPPY ENDING?: As the conclusion of Mice 1961 draws near, there is a strong sense of doom, that someone will die.

A. On K page 227, Girtle was “ …stunned to realize that the story was not separate from life or living, but instead just another side of it. The richness of this spread through my belly, and my body impelled me toward the black-golden dog, no longer missing, who recognized me as part of things, running to me as well, and I embraced him.” This could imply that Girtle accepted imminent death, but for the entire novel being relayed to us in the voice of Girtle, reminiscing, in old age.

B. If Mice, nibbling at the thread, measuring her fate, gained confidence and strength by doing so, presumably she survived traversing the field of corn. Her friends, however, seeking any sight of her amid the light-haired stalks of corn, were clearly concerned.

C. Jodi may have foreseen her own death, as suspected by Girtle (referenced in Housemates C, above), and her companions were clearly concerned by Jodi’s despair as they rushed to help her, possibly fearing suicide (also referenced in Housemates C, above). Could it be Jodi who was destined to be shepherded by the Boatsman?

Here, the author seems to be toying with us. We fear that each, in turn, of the women might be the one to die, before we are led, by the end of the novel, to the realization that such a question is beside the point. It is irrelevant.

It’s tempting to think of fate as determinative, conclusive, unavoidable. But finding The Way is both the challenge and the point of the book; fate is not simple, we have choice, and choice is difficult. Patterns of story might guide us, but each of our stories is our own. We have agency. Perhaps Boatsmann simply was a dog with a fun and peculiar name. Or maybe he was indeed the shepherd of the dead. It doesn’t matter. What is significant in this book is that the three main characters grew, they evolved, they each found Their Way.

Jodi was able to accept the advice and support of friends and lover as she let go of Mice. Mice Found her voice, and the strength to stand up to the suffocating love of her sister and the stifling care of Girtle. She no longer preferred to slink in nooks or hide in crannies, but rather could stand on her own, stand out. Mice developed confidence which affected her behavior such that she could be noticed, seen and appreciated by others — to the point of being offered employment both by the Librarian and the Bay-of-Pigs villain. Girtle found acceptance, the sense of belonging for which she yearned, in the embrace of community and the cuddling of the dog. She, too, had shed her anonymity, no longer hiding in shadows. She found in herself the strength to fight to save her friend.

The growth, the evolution of each character, is the happy ending of this novel. Wondering whether one or another might then have perished was, in my view, the author having a bit of fun, teasing us. It was a diversion. Each character had found Her Way. This was the truly happy ending, the lesson of Mice 1961, which could not be diminished, not even by a journey with the Boatsman.

[Gaby · Rating 3 out of 5]

This is a slightly strange, but well-written and compelling, novel.

The characterizations and setting are atmospheric - you’ll feel a real sense of 1961 upon reading this book.

[John · Rating 3 out of 5]

Mice 1961 is a book I’m surprised I haven’t heard many of those in my reading circle have read, let alone heard of. While I’m not one for book awards I would think that getting to be a Pulitzer finalist would draw more eyes from readers of contemporary literary fiction online. I first heard of this book, and its author Stacey Levine, in a blog article comparing her with Lauren Fairbanks. While I wouldn’t necessarily consider these two authors similar, outside of being women authors of a similar age who write postmodern literature, I did find it to be a great introduction to this book and piqued my interest in checking it out.

Being my introduction to Levine I wasn’t sure what to expect going into this. The narrative of Mice 1961 follows two orphaned sisters, Mice and Jody. They live in Miami in the early 1960s and are joined by a large cast of characters as they prepare for a neighborhood party.

Of all of these characters the most interesting is their housekeeper, Girtle, whose perspective is the main perspective of the book. She is quiet and observant, and only really speaks when interacted with. In many ways her character is a stand in for the typical postmodern author narrator perspective found in books like these. Girtle and her POV are one of the more interesting aspects of this book. It is a really unique way to tell a story but with that being said, I didn’t always find that it was an effective method, at least in execution.

It is quite an adjustment to get used to this storytelling style, figuring out the framework of the world this story exists in. Beyond the POV, I also found it hard to envision what the reality of this world is as it is quite surreal and at times absurd. While this is an enjoyable element of the book it does lead to a very intangible hold on the story and its characters. The POV of following these characters from a quiet bystander keeps you at arms length. While intentional, I did find it hard to fully get drawn into what was going on.

Much of what is going on in the narrative and these characters also have a vague nature to them. These two sisters seem to alternate between being more adult and more childlike as the narrative goes on. They are supposed to be around 20 years old but it is hard to envision them at this age, as they could easily be half that age at many points. These kinds of vague understandings led to a very disinteresting reading experience for me for the first hundred pages.

That being said, my enjoyment of this book picked up in the second hundred pages as we start to get a better understanding of what is going on. The characters are preparing for a party. This is a potluck with a long list of attendees. The lead up to and the actual party itself were some of my favorite parts of this book. Thomas Pynchon is quite known for his party scenes and given the postmodern nature of this book, I would draw close comparisons to his style. This party scene might be one of my favorites outside of the Pynchon postmodern party precedence.

Overall, I would describe this book as The Crying of Lot 49 if it was actually about Edipa Maas’ tupperware party from the opening page. We follow an early 1960s suburban scene focusing on the large cast of attendees and what strange thoughts and actions they bring. We get discussions of music and politics of the day, thoughts about what kinds of names are “hard” and “soft” and mysteries around various character’s backgrounds.

You dip in and out of various conversations, as you would at an actual party. This made for a fun reading experience but one where you really are just along for the ride, following along as a spectator, like our narrator’s place in the story.

This truly is a book unlike any other I’ve read, especially from recent publications. While I didn’t love it overall and I’m left wondering what lasting impression it will have on me, I cannot understate its uniqueness. If you are a fan of postmodern literary fiction and are looking for a unique book that's recently been published, I highly recommend checking this out. This definitely won’t be my last read from Stacey Levine.

[Bill Silva · Rating 3 out of 5]

There’s an absurdist quality to the novel that I found initially appealing but ultimately became a bit too much. I think I get what the author is up to here…but the intentional silliness and the halfhearted metafictional elements wore me down. Mice as a character and the 1961 Miami setting do come alive…these are the best things about the novel.

[Julie Baird · Rating 3 out of 5]

I picked Mice (1961) as part of my slow journey through the Pulitzer Prize winners and nominees, and I finished it feeling… bewildered. Not unmoved, not bored…just quietly, persistently confused.

There is a lot here that I genuinely enjoyed. The writing is sharp and often startling, full of lines that make you pause and reread: “Does uniformity denote unity?”, “Attractive’s not beautiful, it’s cheap”, “Details shrink stories and shorten their depth”, “Complaining, too, is a luxe activity”, and the wonderfully odd “thirsty as a sink.” These moments stretch the mind in interesting ways and hint at something deeper simmering beneath the surface.

And yet, as an avid horror and sci-fi reader, I kept waiting for a revelation that never quite arrived. I expected and hoped for a big reveal: that the characters weren’t human, or that there was something fundamentally uncanny lurking beneath the social dynamics. Instead, the story remains grounded, focused on social grouping, bullying, harassment of those who appear different, and the complicated, intimate relationship between two sisters.

I appreciate those themes, and I can see the intent behind them. But despite enjoying the prose and the ideas, the book never fully clicked for me. I closed it still unsure what I was meant to feel, which may well be the point, but it left me more unsettled than satisfied.

Would I read more by this author? Possibly. There’s clearly intelligence and originality here. Would I recommend this particular book? Probably not, unless you enjoy ambiguity, restraint, and the kind of story that lingers more as a question than an answer.

[Linda Kossoff · Rating 5 out of 5]

I was charmed by Levine's ability to build gentle suspense of her plot line while it wove through its absolute feast of hilariously offbeat characters, who commingle and collide in their small town within an even smaller window of time. The centerpiece was the relationship between the two sisters, a sort of codependency on steroids for which only one cure was possible. I absolutely loved it.

[Cody Nechamkin · Rating 2 out of 5]

I just know in my heart of hearts that my high school English teacher would love this book. I personally struggled with it—as not much happens plot-wise, and it’s pretty much all character study of characters I only kind of found interesting—but Ms. May, I hope you’ve read this book.
Some funny moments, but ultimately I can’t say this one resonated with me. While it’s clear Levine is a talented writer with a strong voice, I still wish something more of substance happened. I will admittedly probably check out some of her short stories since this just felt like a long short story rather than a novel, just based on vibes alone, and again, I did appreciate the writing style itself.

2.5 stars. I wanted to like this one more than I did.

[wade · Rating 5 out of 5]

A fascinating novel centering initially on a pair of half sisters one of which is an albino. She (Mice) is picked on because of her condition and her older sister (Jody) sees herself as a protector. But Mice wants to spread her wings. Mice has an interesting hobby of building radios. The novel culminates at a large party with an odd cast of characters and Mice goes missing. A strange unique novel set during the period of the Cuban Revolution as a backdrop.

[Timur Markowitz · Rating 3 out of 5]

I really liked it. But I also think this book didn’t resonate with me because it simply wasn’t for me.