3. The Runaway Soul by Harold Brodkey. 

This is the longest, thickest and meatiest book I’ve had in years. I think Brodkey would want to know that.

It’s the story-non-story-anti-story of Wiley Silenowicz’s early life, various parts of it, filtered through Wiley, various parts of him. Well, mostly just two parts. The brain and the other brain. 

Physical, mental, sensual and intellectual experiences smashed through the strainer of memory, ground through the mill of writing it down, then relived and digested again. It’s Wiley’s ouroboros of self. It is visceral and horny and sad and very, very male. It’s a 100 page sex scene that is barely about sex. It’s an introspection on family, connections and cruelty. It’s a confession and a boast. 

If I’d read my own review before I read this book, I wouldn’t have read this book. But I’m glad I did, because through it all, it is *good.* Brodkey’s got some absolutely laughable dialogue, and I nearly threw chairs when four-year-old genius Wiley *taught himself to read*…*in half an hour*, but there is also some absolutely stunning prose here, and the end result is a family that will never leave my brain. 4/5 but I may rate higher after I’ve come down from it. #2025books