I reread Robert Coover’s 1968 sophomore novel, The Universal Baseball Association, Inc., J. Henry Waugh, Prop. in January in anticipation of its reprint in the next few weeks from NYRB. I had remembered the novel’s dark humor and bright inventions, but had forgotten how sad it is, particularly its conclusion. I have a full review planned. In the meantime, here’s part of NYRB’s publicity copy for the novel–
Somewhere in a “major-league” American city, there lives a man named J. Henry Waugh—no-account accountant, barfly, and country music fan. The most important part of Waugh’s life, as far as he is concerned, is lived in his head, where he is sole proprietor of the Universal Baseball Association, which is now entering its fifty-sixth season. The games are played with dice and scorecards, and the players are just numbers and names, but for Waugh they’re more real than the dreary office, the dive bar, and the dingy apartment in which he spends his days.
–while the NYRB blurb doesn’t give a full “spoiler,” it does characterize a pivotal event in the novel a bit too directly. Although I don’t really think so-called spoilers can affect strong works of literature (and I think that The Universal Baseball Association is a strong work of literature), I do think that its early climactic action is best enjoyed cold. For this reason, I’d avoid reading the back of this edition, along with Ben Marcus’s introduction, until after you’ve finished it. More thoughts to come.
Biblioklept 