American Mischief A Novel

by Alan Lelchuk, S. Neil Fujita (Jacket) (Designer)

By turns hilarious and alarming, American Mischief is an ambitious attempt to define the disorders of American culture. Originally published in 1970, the novel takes on sexual anarchy, political madness, the collapse of monogamy, and above all the high cost of extreme behavior. These aspects of American culture are richly illustrated by the novel’s two Professor Bernard Kovell, a supreme and comical narcissist who dotes on lofty analogies while performing very low acts, and Lenny Pincus, a young radical fishing for more trouble than he can handle.

Genres: Fiction

501 pages, Paperback

First published January 1, 1973

Reviews

[Joe · Rating 4 out of 5]

Early 1970s was a great time to be a novelist. Lady Chatterley and then Tropic of Cancer had broken the censors, and we writers celebrated – gloried, actually – in writing a lot of graphic sex. We called it a commentary on culture and society and great weighty issues, but really it was fun to write – and read – about sex. And of course, we all thought we knew a great deal about the subject. They say you should write what you know. Alan Lelchuk was no exception.

Here’s something else Alan Lelchuk knew: the academic writer game. He received his B.A. in World Literature in 1960, his M.A. in English in 1963 and his Ph.D. in 1965. He began teaching at Brandeis in 1966. He got a Yaddo Foundation Grant in 1968, 1969, 1971, and 1973, a MacDowell Colony Fellowship in 1969.

So he wrote an academic novel of highbrow porn. And, yeah, a commentary about culture and stuff. But honestly, it’s fun for the first 150 pages because it’s mostly about a narcissistic college professor screwing lots of women and making comments like this:

A playful knowing cunt – a pair of agile lips that could expand and contract, bite and nip, plus a little protrusion of flesh, all set like a guerrilla hideout into a camouflaged mound and firing off special salivas and smells – this infinitesimal house of pleasure had toppled kings, altered history. Not bad for a body circumference of a few inches.

After 150 pages, the novel becomes more self-consciously a commentary about culture and stuff, and kind of wearying.

Five stars for the first third. Two or three stars for the rest.

[Hannah Espenschied · Rating 1 out of 5]

Never ever in my life have I come even close to something as truly grotesque as this book.