Purged the books pictured in the lower right-hand corner and picked up a few: Curzio Malaparte’s Kaputt, which has intrigued me for awhile now, Denis Johnson’s Fiskadoro—in the Vintage Contemporaries edition no less!—and Lydia Davis’s novel The End of the Story, which I somehow haven’t read yet. Hypothesis: Lydia Davis and Denis Johnson may be America’s greatest living novelists (?).
Biblioklept 
Better than Cormac McCarthy, Don DeLillo, and Thomas Pynchon? Maybe. (I am partial to McCarthy, though. He wrote Blood Meridian for Chrissakes.) This topic would make for an interesting blog post, IMO.
LikeLike
My comment was half in jest (and written after a few glasses of red wine to boot). I don’t think there’s such a thing as the Greatest Living American Writer.
LikeLike
Yeah, I think I interpreted “greatest” as you meaning “favorite”. I agree; assigning someone as “greatest” wouldn’t really be possible.
LikeLike