Books in Brief

In Fact: Essays on Writers and Writing, by Thomas Mallon (Pantheon, 352 pp., $26.95)

It’s hard to decide whether Thomas Mallon is a better fiction writer or essayist, because he’s so good at both. The appearance of In Fact, a delightful and eclectic collection of previously published criticism, won’t settle the matter, but it will provide more proof that Mallon is one of the great literary talents at work today. The most interesting parts of In Fact—and they are all interesting, even when Mallon discusses authors and books his own readers have no intention of reading—come when he describes the art of the historical novel, that place where fiction and nonfiction converge and where Mallon has spent much of his career staking a reputation. On the difficulty of composing Aurora 7, which is set in 1962, he writes: “Having had the kind of happy childhood that is so damaging to a writer, I couldn’t help but like being back in that personal Eden, where the crabgrass was high and my mom was good-looking.” Three subsequent books traveled further back in time, transporting readers to 1948 (when Americans “were enjoying a last year without television”) and the 19th century. Prepare for more of that on both page and screen, he says: “The past is the only place to which we can get away, and if I had one prediction for the millennium it would be that all of us, including novelists, shall be spending a lot of time—more than ever before—looking backward.” And, I would add, looking forward to Mallon’s next offering.

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In Fact: Essays on Writers and Writing, by Thomas Mallon (Pantheon, 352 pp., $26.95)

It’s hard to decide whether Thomas Mallon is a better fiction writer or essayist, because he’s so good at both. The appearance of In Fact, a delightful and eclectic collection of previously published criticism, won’t settle the matter, but it will provide more proof that Mallon is one of the great literary talents at work today. The most interesting parts of In Fact—and they are all interesting, even when Mallon discusses authors and books his own readers have no intention of reading—come when he describes the art of the historical novel, that place where fiction and nonfiction converge and where Mallon has spent much of his career staking a reputation. On the difficulty of composing Aurora 7, which is set in 1962, he writes: “Having had the kind of happy childhood that is so damaging to a writer, I couldn’t help but like being back in that personal Eden, where the crabgrass was high and my mom was good-looking.” Three subsequent books traveled further back in time, transporting readers to 1948 (when Americans “were enjoying a last year without television”) and the 19th century. Prepare for more of that on both page and screen, he says: “The past is the only place to which we can get away, and if I had one prediction for the millennium it would be that all of us, including novelists, shall be spending a lot of time—more than ever before—looking backward.” And, I would add, looking forward to Mallon’s next offering.