Arthur Less is hilariously well-named. In the opening salvo, he is waiting to be escorted to a literary event, sitting in a hotel lobby, while a woman he is meant to meet is circling the room looking for a woman, mistakenly thinking the author of the book she's read cannot be a man. On the eve of Arthur's fiftieth birthday, his partner of almost ten years has announced his upcoming nuptials, and in order to avoid this nightmare, Arthur has cobbled together a trip around the world accepting an odd congregation of invitations to host, attend, and teach various literary events. With each stop, he goes into his past, revealing more and more about himself and his history. Each experience generates memory, both poignant and absurd. Greer has a fine sense of character and irony, and this surpasses other books I've read by him.

After I started reading Less I immediately thought “So, why did this win the Pulitzer?” Then, about half way through, I began to understand. By the time we get to Morocco with Arthur Less, I was mentally comparing Less to Lolita, though the characters are nothing alike. While you hate the protagonist Humbert in Lolita, there is no denying the power of the novel. And where you will love the protagonist Arthur Less, it is the writing that shines here, not the sweep of the story or the depth of the characters. Is there a literary genre called Profound Humorous Romps? That’s where this book belongs. This is not a “gay” book, but Arthur is gay. This is not a story about middle age, but Arthur is confronting his own aging. This is a story about how humans are constantly swimming upstream against life. This is a story about how humans are old or young or bald or sad or beautiful or boring and sometimes we are more, but sometimes we are…(wait for it)…Less. I just hope Arthur turns sixty really soon, and Andrew Greer brings us a new book so we can ride shotgun again with Less.

Tender, funny, sometimes melancholy, written with beautiful language. I first read a chapter of the novel when it appeared as a short story in The New Yorker earlier this year. It was a tour de force of carefully managed absurdity, heartache, and wistful humor. The book is just as good (although its structural device perhaps goes on a bit too long -- one country too many, maybe). Greer's writing is masterful. He manages to be meaningful and funny at the same time, an incredible balancing act. And he is just so lovely with words. This could have really gone off the rails, it could have been repetitive and gimmicky, but he's too skilled a writer for that. 4 stars instead of 5 (4.5 if I could) for what felt like a giving up at the end (that one chapter too many, and too quick an ending). Otherwise, a fantastic book and a truly great discovery.

There are some beautiful turns of phrase in here, and some good characters and an interesting story. I read it and enjoyed it, but a Pulitzer??! No. I think not. It just didn't have enough- of anything! Characters weren't deep enough or real enough, writing wasn't amazing enough, story wasn't interesting enough. It needed more. Shame on you, Pulitzer committee.

The least attractive part of "Less" is the main character, Less himself. He's a shlump. Unappealing and frankly uninteresting. Beyond that, the writing is show-offy, making you conscious of the author's choice of words and structure. To be fair, I did not finish the book. I got about 1/3rd of the way through and just didn't care what happened in the rest of the book.