Empty Words

A grumpy writer seeks to focus his mind with handwriting exercises in this charming novel, the first by Uruguayan author Levrero (1940–2004) to be translated into English. Frustrated by his “mindless, scattered days” of attempting to write amid the constant distractions of family life, Levrero’s narrator embraces “graphological self-therapy,” hoping that improving the legibility of his handwriting will translate into an improvement in “my concentration and the continuity of my thoughts.” But as quotidian events such as a maid’s abrupt departure and his partner’s desire for a new house continue to intrude, the narrator realizes that “these exercises are becoming less calligraphical and more literary.” He begins varying them with explorations of his dog’s conflict with a neighborhood cat and of his dreams, but those subjects prove even more distracting. The narrator’s histrionics over his mundane responsibilities may be laughable, but his anxieties and preoccupations are captured with such precision by Levrero that the reader will breathe a sigh of relief whenever the exercises resume after a stress-induced break. “Going back to these exercises is always a first step toward psychological health,” the narrator writes, and it’s hard not to be persuaded that clearly printing one’s S’s and G’s may just be the secret to a happy life, after all. (May)