I may have this wrong, but reading Less brought me back to the reading of my college days, Updike and Irving, warm stories about fumbling men, alternately mirthful and ruthless. I could feel Andrew Sean Greer’s loving hand on Arthur Less as he pulled the strings that send him catapulting around the globe from mishap to mishap, each time finding something lovely and true in the middle. I loved this book. Have another one on hold. Damn, Greer is a great writer. Masterly in crafting sentences and paragraphs and entire arcs but not showing off at all. Was glad to see he’s 48. His photo makes him look so young and handsome I was prepared to be annoyed. But at age 49 myself, I know that the love and warmth and resignation that Greer put into this novel was probably well-earned.
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