Collected Fiction

by Louis Zukofsky, Gilbert Sorrentino (Foreword), Paul Zukofsky (Afterword)

Best known as one of the most significant poets of the 20th century, Louis Zukofsky was also an accomplished writer of fiction, all of which is collected here for the first time. Included is his only novel, "Little" (1970), which John Leonard in the "New York Times" called "an odd, playful, thoroughly charming novel about a child prodigy." (The novel is very autobiographical and Zukofsky's son, violin virtuoso, Paul Zukofsky, has written an afterword for this edition.) Also included are the four stories comprising "It Was," published in 1961 in a limited edition and virtually unobtainable for years. The stories range from the brief title story in which a writer struggles with the composition of the perfect sentence to the novella length "Ferdinand," which Guy Davenport praised in the "New York Times Book Review" as "a finely tuned story from a sensibility of extraordinary range and skill."

Genres: Poetry, American, Literature, Fiction, Short Stories

240 pages, Paperback

First published January 1, 1990

About the author

Louis Zukofsky was one of the most important second-generation American modernist poets. He was co-founder and primary theorist of the Objectivist group of poets and was to be an important influence on subsequent generations of poets in America and abroad.

Reviews

[MJ Nicholls]

This “sampled” shelf is distinct from my “seduced-and-abandoned” shelf for ticklish and tedious reasons. The “s-a-a” shelf is for books I have been teased and tantalised into reading (for many inconsistent reasons: the cover’s prettiness, the book’s global standing, GR hype, or simply its brevity) and I have committed to reading for the long haul. This involves mental preparation. Sacrificing another book in its stead. Psyching myself up to enter the book’s world. Thinking about all the books that will never be read in its place, agonising over their potentially permanent absence from my shelves. So whereas “s-a-a” books are texts that have spurned me, that have driven me from their pages through my own unrealistic expectations or the deceptive power of their coquettish charms, the “sampled” shelf is for books I am interested in or believe I may like based on my reading so far, knowing the little hussies might not be my teacup and the book will be swiftly dropped. So I have nothing to lose, everything to gain. Usually I read “sampled” books until I have squeezed as much pleasure out of each text as possible, so the time isn’t stolen from me as it might be in a “s-a-a” book. There is no personal slight. They come, they go. I use them. They are my whores. I am the seducer, not the seduced. Clear? No? Shaddap.

This shelf should have been established months ago, when this practice began. The memory of most of these semi-skimmed texts has faded entirely, so we’ll have to start here. In this volume, I read the opening of Zukofsky’s Little: For Careenagers (his only novel) and delighted in the strange malapropisms, musical structure, unusually clipped prose, until I hit the 50pp mark and nothing made sense anymore. Zukofsky came to me through Sorrentino’s Something Said collection and I was surprised to find the prose so playful and surreal from such a po-faced avant-garde poet. A pleasing sample, and perfect illustration of this practice of hassle-free toe-dipping. Here’s to it.

[Shawn · Rating 2 out of 5]

Well, I won't get into why I ended up reading this, except to say that my reading pile has a random factor I've built into it that occasionally salts in works from my "never to be completed in my lifetime" reading list (just to make sure I get a nice balance in my reading diet, you understand).

So, here is a volume containing all the fiction written by Louis Zukofsky, who is justifiably famous as an early to mid 20th century poet, founder of the Objectivist poetry movement and friend of Ezra Pound. Now, poetry and I have a unsettled relationship - I utterly respect poetry without ever feeling I've got much of a knack for reading it. I love hearing it read, usually (and more on that in a second), but I tend to approach it like prose, despite knowing I shouldn't. And I'll cop to the philistinism of saying that sometimes it seems more deliberately dense or obfuscatory than it needs to be (see - Ezra Pound. But the idea of a poet's fiction is intriguing, and with it all in one handy volume, how could I go wrong? (I also supplemented this reading with some downloads of Louis Zukofsky reading his poetry, which can be found at the wonderfully abundant PENNSOUND website).

Well, as it turns out, pretty easily could I go wrong. His poetry is quite good, although it has that fascination with classical reference that I tend to find off-putting and elitist, but understandable for the time he was writing in. But his fiction? Well, this volume has his only novel, Little for Careenagers, and four short stories that made up the book IT WAS.

LITTLE, the longest work, I will admit I could not make it through. It's a whimsical novel about the life of a child violin prodigy (modeled on Zukofsky's own son Paul), full of wordplay and ethnic characters with silly names and in-jokes about the world of educated Jewish-American classical musicians and other artists (and their children) in the early 20th century. Yehudi Menuhin and Heifetz and others I know nothing about get name-checked (there's even a funny but oblique joke about that youngster John Cage, although so oblique I only got it after having the footnotes point it out to me). I bailed about a third of the way in - it seemed dense without being rewarding and too in-jokey (a recording of Zukofsky reading the first half goes down a bit easier, if you're interested. It was done as part of the Spoken Words radio program on WYNC in 1970 and is available at the following link, scrolling about 2/3 of the way down - the selections are in chronological order).

Of the fiction, I also found "Thanks To The Dictionary" unengaging for the same reasons: rambling and show-offy with annoying world play and classical references. I'm sure somebody digs this stuff, but it is not me. All is not lost, however. "It Was" is a tender little story about a writer attempting to craft the perfect sentence for the last part of a story he's working on, and finding inspiration in his surroundings and relationship with his wife. It's delicate and touching. "A Keystone Comedy" (the oldest thing here, I think), starts quite unexpectedly with a husband and wife of an extended Brooklyn family filling up little boxes with cocaine cut with sugar, as part of a brother's moneymaking scheme. It's humorous and absurd and unlike anything else here, although not amazing or anything.

The longest piece outside of LITTLE is the novella Ferdinand. It's the interesting (if at times a bit dry and, again, unengaging), story of an Italian boy growing to manhood between the wars. Raised by his aunt and uncle (his father and mother are absent, the father is an industrial wheeler-dealer who sells his wares to both sides and plots his empire accordingly), the young man is eventually shipped off to America and a diplomatic position to further the machinations of his absent father and older brother. But, as usual with work like this, the plot isn't as important as a detailed, Joycean examination of Ferdinand's thoughts, feelings, character and psychology, along with his relationship with some peers who encompass the important players in the upcoming next World War. Ferdinand exists between two important moments in time and feels completely disconnected from his family, his culture, his country, his own life, future and feelings. The story meanders a bit but really picks up near the end as Ferdinand's surrogate parents reappear in the US, fleeing the worsening conditions back home and increasingly dubious reputation of their family name. Ferdinand and the two set out on road-trip across the States that becomes ever more pointless and painful, fleeing a lack of direction by continually moving forward. The travelogue aspect of this last section is quite nice, and there's a strange ending to the story (that involves some drunken driving and a macabre journey that ends in a cinema showing old Chaplin films & DUMBO) which is intentionally ambiguous and oddly "weird" (in a "weird tale" kind of way).

Worth taking a look at, for FERDINAND and "It Was", if not much else.

[Amari · Rating 4 out of 5]

a bit of a disappointment, but very fine all the same. moments of genius, tenderness, etc. etc. etc. but rather self-indulgent. worse, draws attention to its own cleverness. still, wonderful misty characters. delightfully odd dialogue. flighty and joycean.

[RMA]

russian short stories, not sure if this is the right book