The Old Gents

Yglesias, who died two years ago, seems to have left a fair amount of posthumous material. Last year, Arte Publico published the Cuban-American author's less than stellar Break-In. The present short novel, though it is considerably more accomplished, is still slight and possibly not what he would have wished to see appear unrevised had he lived. The protagonist, German Moran, is an elderly writer who has a great deal in common with the author: he is an old leftist living in Greenwich Village whose sons have gone on to careers in writing and the movies. The book is largely an interior monologue, often amusing, occasionally touching, about the anxieties--particularly medical--of old age, and about the specific dreams of Moran himself. These include an impossibly romantic longing for a beautiful young actress living next door who eventually goes off to Hollywood, probably to sleep with one of his sons. Moran also hangs out with some crusty old neighborhood characters whose scenes are distinctly reminiscent of the Grumpy Old Men movies. It is a book with considerable sweetness, but also a distressing slackness that Yglesias at his much tougher best would not have tolerated. (Oct.)