Harry Eugene Crews was born during the Great Depression to sharecroppers in Bacon County, Georgia. His father died when he was an infant and his mother quickly remarried. His mother later moved her sons to Jacksonville, Florida. Crews is twice divorced and is the father of two sons. His eldest son drowned in 1964.
Crews served in the Korean War and, following the war, enrolled at the University of Florida under the G.I. Bill. After two years of school, Crews set out on an extended road trip. He returned to the University of Florida in 1958. Later, after graduating from the master's program, Crews was denied entrance to the graduate program for Creative Writing. He moved to Ft. Lauderdale, Florida, where he taught English at Broward Community College. In 1968, Crews' first novel, The Gospel Singer, was published. Crews returned to the University of Florida as an English faculty member.
In spring of 1997, Crews retired from UF to devote himself fully to writing. Crews published continuously since his first novel, on average of one novel per year. He died in 2012, at the age of 78.
This was 4 stars right up til the end, then I knew I'd be thinking about this one for a while. That ending, I have no words! Not bad for a book I wasn't sure I wanted to read. Honestly, Harry Crews scares me. The life he's led, the underbelly of society that he writes about, I'd just shrivel up and die in those environments, but he turns it into a real world where there is still a bit of beauty and decency to be found, at least in this one.
A Childhood, his memoir of his younger life still remains one of my favorite memoirs. Feast of Snakes was a novel I had to dnf at a certain point. The Gospel Singer was just weird. This one had some hard scenes to read, but I'm glad I persevered. And if I met Crews in a dark alley, or even a well lighted restaurant, I'd turn and run. But, Boy can he write!
I’m basically Lebowski pumping his fist against the roof of his car to CCR right now. ‘‘Tis a feeling I only ever get from Crews. God bless you, Harry. You make me smile, you.
I enjoyed this one far more than Feast of Snakes. It makes me want to read more Harry Crews. I'd give it 5 stars but the story line of the character's signature knockout schtick didn't quite sit right with me. It just didn't make sense, or if felt kind of silly to me. Otherwise, I did love the characters and watching many of them sink to the bottom while the main character worked his way up from the depths. Anyway, a nice twisted little tale of depravity and redemption.
There’s no way I could have predicted after reading chapter 1 that I would cry by the time I got to the last chapter. This one is in true Crews fashion, weird and strange characters but sooooo darn good. I read hard copy and listened to the audio and both excellent.
Like all of Harry Crews’s novels, THE KNOCKOUT ARTIST has high highs and low lows. It’s laugh-out-loud funny in parts, but grimace-inducingly bad in other parts. As disciplined as Crews was with his writing schedule, he sure churned out a lot of awful pages. Consequently, it’s kind of amazing that Penguin Classics of all publishers is reviving his work — I think Crews would fit well into NYRB Classics, where cult/underground status is more important than literary merit, but Penguin doing them almost seems like a joke. Maybe that’s why they removed “The best books ever written” from their back covers when they updated their designs a few years ago. Jokes aside, TKA is entertaining and at least hints at some underlying literary theory. A couple of rewrites and a little restructuring would’ve made it one of Crews’s best, maybe on par with THE GOSPEL SINGER, but it burns out almost as quickly as it fires up.
Side note: S.A. Cosby’s foreword is more like an Instagram caption than a commissioned piece, and it does nothing to justify why Crews is receiving the Penguin Classics treatment. A third-rate writer introducing a second-rate writer doesn’t really scream “literary classic,” Penguin.
Caveat: I'm a huge Harry Crews fan. I've been hooked on him since I read "Celebration" when it was released, then went backwards trying to find every one of his weird little feasts of testosterone and pain. The closest comparison I've ever been able to make has been a cross between John Irving's canon of masculine redemption through physical breach and Carl Hiaason's ludicrously over the top Northern Floridian swampy dark comedy.
I wish I liked this book better. It was written while Crews was at the tail end of a 20 year drinking binge, admittedly, and some of the scenes of louche New Orleans seem somehow quaint for all the posturing, but it's still signature Crews. The funny thing is how much it makes me want to read Arthur Nersessian's "The Fuck Up" again, though. Same general feeling on the surface of the skin when you're done reading them both.
This is my favorite Harry Crews novel thus far. Critics often refer to this book as black comedy, but frankly you have to be pretty demented to find much humor in this book. Really a journey right up to the edge of the moral abyss. Strongly written with surprisingly endearing characters. Highly recommended.
crews was working on this one while i was attending the university of florida. he read some of this in class, that bit in the lockerroom, where eugene has just lost a fight, his manager comes in, tells him he couldn't even knock himself out.
eugene proceeds to coldcock himself, knocking himself out. a star is born. he goes on the circuit. new orleans. some fine american teachers make an appearance. they're special people. heh heh! some others. w/crews, you have folk who have a public appearance, and a very different private appearance, though among friends, that private life is public, shared.
this is a joy to read, following eugene from beginnings to a kind of end, to a new kind of a beginning, to and an end, and to a final new beginning, hallelujah, amen.
Often compared to Flannery O'Connor, Crews novels take place in the south and often depict down and out characters who struggle internally as much as they do with the trials they encounter daily in their convoluted and difficult lives. Themes often include drinking, sex, racism, religion, etc.
"The Knock-out Artist" spends too much time on the development of a character who has very little character! After all of this, we still do not entirely understand his motives or actions. Furthermore, the story is a bit of a stretch for Crews. (Former boxer becomes freak show and the center of a pyschological study in New Orleans after finding out that he can knock himself out at whim). Crews takes us into the dark and seedy world of New Orleans unsucessfully leaving one unsatisfied.
Nope. Dont read this...but I do suggest "Feast of Snakes" by Crews.
I left this book on a metro train in Washington D.C. after reading it. Maybe somebody else can enjoy it.
Every character is grotesque and every situation is twisted. Other than that - it is a beautiful story about folks in New Orleans eating beignets and listening to jazz.
Picked this one up blind based only on the description. An aspiring young boxer is cursed (or is it gifted?) with the unusual ability to knock himself unconscious with one punch. He makes a living "performing" in seedy underground dens of hedonistic excess, where perverts and freaks of all kinds pay to watch him punch himself in the face. If that all sounds a little silly to you...it is.
The depravity described in these pages is alternately disturbing and absurd (sometimes both at once!), to the point where it is sometimes difficult to know just how seriously I'm meant to take all of it. Both a stirring tale of the redemptive power of self respect and a lurid pulp thriller, the novel has a hard time focusing on any one tone or theme.
But I found the entire thing very well-paced and entertaining throughout. There's some fun psychoanalysis at play and a worthwhile message of self-worth at it's core, and I really liked the ending. I will give Harry Crews' other books a look.
At one stage Eugene Talmadge ‘Knockout’ Biggs’s promoter boasts that the young boxer from rural Georgia has had 72 successive knockouts. It may be a correct statement but those knockouts are actually of himself.
After a dodgy start in the sport his best friend Pete, an ex-boxer himself, discovers that Biggs has the ability to knock himself out, and using that unique ability he plys his trade amongst the higher echelons of New Orleans society.
Like most of Crews’s fiction this is fast, unforgiving and violent as it meanders through boxing lore, snuff films and kinky sex. Though Biggs seems on the road to the top, a young man from the country, learning his way around, trying to make a fortune. But things go wrong of course, appearances are deceiving and despite his courage and ingenuity intrigue and danger await.
It’s more satirical than Crews usually is, spiky, and yet less humorous. It lacks those typical character descriptions that are a highlight; it has the usual cast of misfits but we don’t get into their psyches as in his best work.
It’s strength is in its originality, and in telling a moralistic tale of Biggs’s career, a would-be contender, becomes disheartened, sees himself as being without worth, and becomes a plaything for others.
I love Harry Crews' writing. I loved the concept of this story and the fact that it took place in NOLA. The first 3rd had me going out of my mind, it was so vivid and thrilling. The middle chunk I was racing through waiting for what was next.... but then it kind of petered out. Didn't end with a punch (ha ha). I just wanted Crews to *go there*. He brought his usual philosophies on the grotesque and brutal nature of the south, masculinity, and survival in such an exciting way with such a unique story. Maybe he had already said more than he meant to and pumped the breaks. I wish I could have felt it go all the way
“You don’t feel anything in the fight except maybe the first couple of punches. But son, the real point is to not get hit. Stick and move, go side to side, develop a left jab that’ll keep a guy off you. Too many goddam fighters train to take a punch. Fuck taking. In this business, just like the Good Book says, it is better to give than to receive.”
Took me forever to read this book. I don't know why. I just wasn't into it, or it wasn't working for me, or there was other books I wanted to read more. It sat under my bed for weeks, then I'd take it out, read a few chapters and put it away for another spell of down time. I like Harry Crews' style, I've read some of his other work and thought highly of them. Like I said, I'm not sure why it took me so long to read. Although I have to admit I first thought the plot a little lame - a washed out boxer with a glass jaw knocks himself out for a living. But that's just the surface - the strip club barkers draw to gain the crowd's attention. The book is about a lot more. However it took until I was halfway through to figure that out. Maybe I'm a little dense. Maybe I just didn't like the protagonist. Maybe it just wasn't time until it was time and then it all fell into place.
This was just excellent. My first full Crews novel (I'd only previously read a long excerpt). Might also be my first real boxing novel. Somehow manages to be filled with abberant behavior and social misfits and still manages to seem matter-of-fact and "normal." As I said elsewhere, kind of feels like a cross between Flannery O'Connor and Thomas Pynchon. Can't wait to read more Crews.
At first I didn’t like this book, but as the story progressed and I began to understand the protagonist more I actually enjoyed it. The ending seemed somewhat abrupt, and I would have liked to see it play out a little differently, but overall it still made sense with the story, so I can’t complain. Good book.
Bet big this would be for me just on premise alone: a failed boxer who makes ends meet knocking himself out. despite its volatility, Crews writes Eugene as a man who sees with love in his eyes. up until he doesn’t. I wanted more from the last act. This is my second Crews, and I find that maybe he was content with letting us fill in some gaps. That aside — the final moments moved me.
Been hunting for something to adapt into a script, and this may be it.
Strange book. Seems filled with homoerotic tension. Still putting together all the clues in this one. Wild ride and further evidence of Crews' uninhibited brilliance.
This book made me anxious, uncomfortable and left in despair about halfway through. Happily am left uplifted that a corrupt perverse world did not break our man.
As a story about morals and identity, desire and destiny, The Knockout Artist (not Chris Hero, unfortunately) almost has all the right pieces. But, holy shit, some drastic editing would have helped.
In a way, I feel like this is what Barry Hannah's classic novella Ray would have been like had Gordon Lish not chopped it almost in half. Crews goes on for a hundred pages to set up a story that ends just as the characters start to turn a corner. Maybe that's what he was going for--a journey and a dark-yet-upward hook at the end--but it's mostly an unenjoyable read.
This gimmick of Eugene being a fighter who can knock himself out is the entire basis of the first half of the book. How he resents himself and his lost ways hit hard against the money and staying afloat in the struggling part of New Orleans. Then, it's all but dropped in the second half so Eugene can focus on finding and mentoring a young boxer for a man who is a looming dark, force in Eugene (and the city's) life. Both have the possibility of being interesting stories, but neither are fully told. It appears one way on the surface and another in the guts, but it feels more like two surfaces.
After reading Body and enjoying it, I knew there would be detours and tangents and misshapen poetic ramblings that hold bits of charm, but this book comes off much more stylistically flat. I wasn't necessarily going into this expecting a super strong plot, either. Why Body at least makes full use of the competition aspect of the story to simulate, if not enhance, the rising action feel of a plot and The Knockout Artist doesn't, I'll never know.
Crews is a good enough writer that, should I have liked the book more, I could easily draw the lines of justification and say why some of his decisions work on another level or two above the text. As it is, though, the supporting characters are thin, Eugene's desires are foggy (just move back home if you miss it so much, you fuck!), and Crews just isn't funny enough here to justify this not being a quirky, mysterious novella.