Kenny Becker just dumped his girlfriend--the reasons are a little complex. Young and newly unemployed, his main assets at the moment are six-pack abs and a healthy libido--he's ready to get out, find a little action, and maybe find himself too. But New York is no place for the lonely, and with one meaningless sexual encounter after another, Kenny begins to wonder if the singles scene is not itself a complete con job, with his heart and his future at stake. Raunchy, funny, and surprisingly heartfelt, this 1978 clubland slice-of-life displays Richard Price in gritty good form.
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About the Author
Richard Price is the author of seven novels, including Lush Life, Clockers, Freedomland, and Samaritan. He wrote the screenplays for the films Sea of Love, Ransom, and The Color of Money, for which he received an Academy Award nomination. He won the 2007 Edgar Award for Best TV writing as a co-writer for the HBO series The Wire. Price was also awarded a Literature Award from The American Academy of Arts and Letters. He lives in New York City.
Richard Price is the author of several novels, including Clockers, Freedomland, and Samaritan. He won a 2007 Edgar Award for his writing on the HBO series The Wire.
Hometown:New York, New York
Date of Birth:October 12, 1949
Place of Birth:Bronx, New York
Education:B.A., Cornell University, 1971; M.F.A., Columbia University
Most Helpful Customer Reviews
This novel is a masterpiece. Nothing less. Any tale where the narrator describes the wind as 'kicking ...' without sounding in the least lazy, is worth checking out. It's this slang, for want of a better word, this rich Brooklyn vernacular, that gives the book it's immediacy and flavour. The voice of Kenny Becker is so very of it's time, so authentic. In fact it's hard to know where to begin in 'reviewing' a work so thoroughly well imagined. Price is one of those rare birds able to put powerful emotions in simple scenes and sentences. 'I was a grown man. A lonely man.' And it's the names I fell in love with here: La Donna, Donny, Jacki Di Paris. And Kenny. Always, at the centre of everything, there is Kenny. Kenny and his 'door to door'. Kenny massaging hand cream into through the webbing of an attractive prospect. Kenny dashing back to the bar in a haze of vanity and lust at 3 a.m. to score again. Kenny cajoling two teenagers into a game of basketball on a dead Saturday afternoon. Kenny doing his '150' situps to show an old pal what sort of shape he's kept himself in all these years. 'Kenny, Kenny, Kenny.' 'Donny, Donny, Donny.' 'B......t, b......t, b......t.' Strangely, this isn't a well known book: not to my knowledge. Maybe this is because parts of it are unpalatable. Try the scene where Kenny visits a brothel for 'a slice of moon pie'. Revolting, even the hardiest will agree. One of the braver scenes you'll stumble on in your reading life. I'll keep this short. The true measure of a writer is how well he or she does the really difficult things. Most writers fall flat relaying their character's dreams. The dream sequences in this book, sharp and potent, are the best I have read. Anywhere. And I've read a lot. And I recommend this tale. To anyone who loves to be taken strange places. Anyone at all. jh sydney australia
That was awful. Good thing he got much better as the years went by.