Great writing!!! The story, however, unfolds at a rather slow pace. It seems to take its time in revealing the details and building the plot. While the writing itself is of high quality, the sluggish progression of the story might cause some readers to lose interest.

Perhaps the author intended to create a sense of anticipation and build tension gradually. But sometimes, this slow approach can make the reading experience feel a bit dragging. It would be beneficial if the story could pick up the pace in certain areas to keep the readers engaged and eager to find out what happens next.

Nevertheless, the great writing still shines through, with beautiful descriptions and well-developed characters. It's just that the slow story could potentially benefit from a bit more momentum to truly captivate the audience.

Banal musings of a painfully boring, clueless, and self-absorbed man. The only good thing to come of this reading experience is knowing that I will never have to read another novel by Richard Ford. It's truly astonishing how one can create a work that seems to lack any real substance or charm. The characters are flat, the plot is uninteresting, and the writing style is simply dull. It's as if the author went out of his way to make the reading experience as unappealing as possible.

Every page feels like a chore, and I find myself constantly looking at the clock, wondering when it will all be over. I can't help but wonder what the point of this novel is. Is it supposed to be a commentary on modern life? If so, it fails miserably. There's nothing here that offers any new insights or perspectives. It's just a collection of banal thoughts and experiences that could have been written by anyone.

In conclusion, I would not recommend this novel to anyone. Save your time and money and read something else. There are plenty of great books out there that will engage and inspire you. This one, however, is not worth your attention.

I purchased Independence Day some time ago and was pondering over The Lay of the Land. Then a friend suggested that I should read the entire trilogy in sequence, so I embarked on The Sportswriter. Initially, I was captivated by the writing style. It was informal,略带诙谐, and completely honest. This is one of the most fascinating novels about “everyday life” that I can recall. It’s also a novel that provides me with genuine insights into the male psyche. I’ve never delved into Updike’s Rabbit novels, assuming they mainly appealed to men, but this one truly intrigued me.

Frank Bascombe became a sportswriter when he reached a certain juncture in his writing career. He had published one collection of stories and then decided he didn’t have enough to express. It was a compromise that he wholeheartedly embraced. He’s not overly enthusiastic, but he takes his job seriously. He also refuses to let it define him. Instead, he chooses to reside in a small New Jersey town rather than in New York, selects the sports he writes about, and doesn’t want to be confined by his occupation.

The events unfold over an Easter weekend. He meets his ex-wife to visit the grave of their son and plans to have Easter dinner with his girlfriend, Vicki, a divorced nurse. He also encounters a man from his divorced men’s group, someone he doesn’t know well but who adopts him as his “best friend.” This guy is stressed because while his ex-wife went to Bimini with her male friend, he went home with another man and had sex with him, and he can’t come to terms with what he did. There are several flashbacks: Frank’s divorce, the death of his son, college in Ann Arbor where he met his wife, conversations with a palmist, and a Detroit trip with Vicki to interview a ballplayer now confined to a wheelchair. Throughout, Frank is self-effacing, philosophical, warm, decent, and humane.

By the end of the weekend, Vicki has dumped him (after punching him) and his friend from the divorced men’s group has committed suicide and left a note for him. At a loose end on Easter night, he boards a train on a whim and goes to his Manhattan office, where a young female intern shows up and he commences a relationship with her. In the weeks that follow, everything changes, but Frank still seems to be the same decent guy.

Now I’m definitely going to move on to Independence Day and The Lay of the Land. This is one interesting character.

"I'm not completely alright, but I will be." This simple yet profound statement sets the tone for what's to come.

I initially embarked on writing a detailed and extensive review. However, I quickly realized that there was no feasible way to do so without spoiling the unique joy and strangeness that accompanies one on this literary journey.

Let me say that Frank Bascombe is an extremely bizarre and unforgettable main character. The novel is penned in a deceptively plain style, yet it has a noir Raymond Chandler-esque feel in its narration and dialog. At times, it's darkly humorous, especially when it comes to certain scenes like the one in the telephone booth (if you've read it, you'll understand precisely what I'm referring to).

As an exploration of a man who may have completely lost his way, who believes that the suburbs of New Jersey are the promised land of milk and honey, and who views every woman as completely interchangeable (even proposing to two on the same day), Ford has done an outstanding job. I suspect that the negative reviewers might be misinterpreting Frank, the narrator, as trustworthy and misunderstanding the novel as long-winded and pointless exposition by the author.

To be fair, the novel is far from perfect. It can often be disorienting and repetitive, although this could very well be a deliberate choice. I can't fully explain the reasoning behind this without revealing more of the story.

Nevertheless, it's one of the few novels I've read that made me want to highlight some sentences and paragraphs. (But, of course, we all know that's a terrible thing to do to a book.)

Despejar la x. Who is y and what does it represent as the unknown of Frank Bascompte's ex? It is the only character whose identity we do not know, yet paradoxically, it occupies the illustration on the cover.

It is the first of the mysteries, but not the most important one.

What is Richard Ford's novel about? Is it about the way various characters who have suffered a loss face their lives? Frank, Mrs. X, Walter, Vicki, Vicki's father, the two retired sports stars he mentions...?

Is it a vindication of mediocrity, a step back or to the side...? Is sports journalism a metaphor for this supposed mediocrity?

"What if despite everything I don't want to win or I can't?", says one of the characters. "Then you shouldn't be on the team," answers another character.

Frank is a man who, from his solitude, asks himself questions to which he does not always have an answer.

"Life is only life and cannot be dismembered, in the same way that some questions have no answer."

"This is how things happen: expectations become matters of the heart; love, a victim of destiny and luck; and what we propose never to do is what we end up doing after all."

"Let me tell you that the only truth that can never be a lie is life itself, what really happens."

A work that portrays American society from a sincere, apparently sincere, point of view. Without patriotic boasts or digging into wounds. The pace is somewhat slow due to Bascompte's constant reflections on what surrounds him and on his memories.

The sports journalist has left me more doubts than certainties: Perhaps that is what good literature consists of?

In the first 100 - 150 pages, Richard Ford sets up a near masterpiece. Frank Bascombe tells his story through a torrential stream of consciousness that in some ways reminded me of Nathan Zuckerman. A man on the cusp of forty, divorced, having survived (perhaps too easily?) the death of a young son, a failed writer but an established sports journalist, he spends his days in a post-adolescent limbo, filled with cerebral reflections on what life has in store for him day after day, and facing the future with an enviable unconscious grin.

Our Bascombe is not a tormented character, but he has learned to accept the events of life with the same nonchalance with which he moves from one airport to another, from one city to another, to tell the lives and achievements of athletes with whom he will never really become intimate.

And perhaps the key to reading this novel lies precisely in Bascombe's continuous oscillation between the search for a lost intimacy (with his wife, with his children, with his new lover, with the acquaintance/friend who drives the second part of the book) and the awareness of the superficiality of many of the relationships that are established between human beings.

After this very good premise, the second part of the book loses its bite, but not because of a lack of narrative quality, but rather - in my case - because of a growing lack of empathy towards Bascombe's way of reasoning, which I found self-referential, defeatist, and superficial.

To be clear, Ford has dedicated four books to Bascombe: surely I will read at least one more to see where it leads.

I recently had the opportunity to see Richard Ford at Blackwells Oxford. He was there to talk about his series and the release of "Be Mine". During the event, he shared that Bascombe is a better version of himself. It's interesting to note that while Ford has always been married without kids, he creates a character like Bascombe. This makes me wonder to what extent we need to have lived the experiences we write about to give them authenticity and the moral responsibility that comes with it, especially considering how readers can learn from novels.

Overall, it was a fine experience, but I knew why I was the youngest reader in the room. The story seems to be about slow middle-aged decay. It has a quiet sense of hope, yet it's also filled with the noise of dull events. Ford's character, Bascombe, distinctly does not want to talk to people, which is a unique aspect to read and write about. It was engaging enough, but towards the end, I found myself wondering if Bascombe liked listening to his own thoughts too much.

Reading Richard Ford's work feels like a combination of Elizabeth Strout's exploration of parenthood, Saul Bellow's introspection, Charles Bukowski's resigned bachelorhood, and Wallace Stegner's slow plodding. However, I think the shame is that Richard Ford's writing might only be better than Bellow's in terms of conveying a lasting impact, message, or enjoyable experience. This particular story seems to be only for those who are interested in reading about someone trying to find meaning in life after divorce, while also having a cynicism about marriage.

It’s not so easy to like Frank Bascombe, the sportswriter of the title.

But it certainly is easy to like Richard Ford’s writing. In the hands of a lesser writer, this would be a 4-star book for me, but the beautiful writing elevates it to 5-star status.

Frank is just shy of 39 years old. When he was younger, he had high hopes as a writer. He published a well-received book of short stories and started working on a novel. However, he made a different choice. He accepted an offer to write for a sports magazine in New York. Justifying his decision, he said, “It is no loss to mankind when one writer decides to call it a day.” He and his wife then moved to New Jersey, started a family, and had a seemingly successful but rather conventional suburban life.

Now, Frank is a man in deep pain. He is still mourning the death of his young son Ralph a few years earlier. The loss has left a huge hole in his heart, and he is still trying to find a way to live with it. In the wake of Ralph’s death, his marriage also fell apart. He had affairs and seemed to have lost the desire and ability to communicate with his wife, whom he only refers to as “X”.

After their amicable divorce, Frank and X have continued to live in the same suburban town. But Frank really lives mostly in his own thoughts. He writes his sports pieces, but he doesn’t really form a connection with the athletes he writes about. He has joined a local group of divorced men, but he avoids getting too close to them. Currently, he is involved with Vicki, a vivacious young nurse, and he has invited her to accompany him to Detroit on a work assignment. The relationship seems promising, but the question remains: can he truly get close to her?

When I say it’s not so easy to like Frank, what I mean is that the existential crisis that consumes him throughout the Easter weekend during which this book is set can be quite frustrating at times. Since Frank is the first-person narrator, we spend a lot of time inside his head. He overanalyzes everything, and then he has a knack for saying or doing the wrong thing at crucial moments. It’s clear (at least to me) that Frank is a good person at heart, but he is lost. There may be a glimmer of hope for him at the end, but I guess I’ll have to read the other three books in the series to find out how it all turns out.

All in all, I definitely recommend The Sportswriter. Richard Ford’s prose is beautiful, and his characters are vivid, even if they’re not always entirely likable.

Sometimes people pose a question to me: 'If you had the opportunity to encounter a fictional character, who would it be? Stephen Dedalus, Emma Bovary, Nick Adams?' My response is invariably the same: Frank Bascombe. Bascombe is the narrator of this novel and makes appearances in three additional books, with the second one, Independence Day, winning the Pulitzer.

The Sportswriter is the initial volume in the series and remains my absolute favorite. It is expressed in a concise and realistic manner, yet it also radiates with that rare quality - genuine, unforced optimism. Strangely enough, it emerged from a rather bleak period for Ford. After publishing just two books with poor sales, he abandoned fiction and took up a job covering sports. The magazine he worked for folded, and its successor declined to hire him. An infamous editor, highly regarded at that time, advised Ford 'to stick to writing about Montana'. Fortunately, Ford triumphed over all these hurdles and achieved his first major success with the outcome.

This is truly a work that should not be missed. It offers a unique perspective and a captivating narrative that keeps readers engaged from start to finish. The character of Frank Bascombe is complex and relatable, making him a memorable fictional figure. The series as a whole is a testament to Ford's talent as a writer and his ability to create a world that readers can easily immerse themselves in.

The first time I've immediately wanted to re-read a book since Lolita.

However, I won't do it right away. Although I adored every single sentence (as evidenced by several pencil marks I made), there's a sense that one needs to experience a bit more of life before coming back to it.

What makes this book truly special is its remarkable honesty. It has the ability to be hilarious without a hint of irony. Ford masterfully contrasts the character's narration with the actions he takes, which forces the reader to empathize with both.

One could argue that the themes explored in this book are about loss, the longing to belong, failure, impractical dreams and plans, and perhaps even grief. But such a simplistic reduction doesn't seem quite fitting. There's a very specific and unique wholeness to this work that defies easy categorization.

It's a book that lingers in your mind, making you reflect on the human condition and the various emotions and experiences that shape our lives.

I am still deeply engrossed in thinking about this one. I surely understand the reasons why some readers might be dismissive of Frank Bascombe after laboriously plowing through the book. It is considered "dirty realism" by some, a term that perhaps helps in selling books. However, I did sense an undertone of humanity in the work. Frank is an intelligent individual who ought to be doing better with his life. He is not as clueless about life as John Updike's Rabbit Angstrom. I read that Mr Ford was influenced by four books while penning this one: The Moviegoer, Something Happened, A Fan's Notes, and Sailing Alone Around the World. I've only read The Moviegoer (a book I hold dear), and Percy Walker's "everydayness" of life roughly translates to Ford's/Frank's "dreaminess" in this book.

The setting is Haddam, NJ, a pleasant suburban area where Frank feels at ease. The story commences on the early morning of Good Friday, April 1984. The 38-year-old Frank encounters his ex-wife (referred to as "X") at the cemetery where their son is laid to rest. (I believe Ralph was 9 when he passed away exactly 3 years prior.) Frank and his ex-wife (always "X" in the book) are at the cemetery behind Frank's house to remember their son. The sadness of the boy's death looms like a dark cloud over the entire book. I can't even fathom what it would be like to lose a son, especially a 9-year-old. Nevertheless, Frank and "X" have two other young children who need to be raised and not overlooked.

Frank has made numerous mistakes throughout his life and marriage. He would readily admit to his considerable flaws. He blew it, plain and simple, and he is well aware of it. He had several affairs and continues with his womanizing ways. However, he is an educated man and a published writer. He more or less settles for a job as a sportswriter. For Frank, it's an easy job that pays the bills. No heavy lifting required. Why not? I think I'm correct in stating that the story takes place in 1984. It was the year that the Detroit Tigers won the pennant and the World Series, a dominant team in '84. In the book, there is a troubled man (a member of the Divorced Men's Club) named Walter Luckett. In the mid-80s, there was also a very solid basketball player named Walter Luckett. Luckett played for Ohio University and made the cover of SI. Neither fact probably holds much significance.

Frank is no hero. How many of us are heroic? He's just a "regular guy" (or aspires to be), but he is acutely conscious of the brevity of his life. A man is born and a man dies. Often, there is or should be a whole lot of life in between. Hopefully, a meaningful one. Frank desires to feel that life, he wants to believe that life is worth the struggle. He wants to experience the spark of life. I would recommend people to read this book carefully. I think it's well worth it. I have Independence Day on my shelf, and I think I'll read it too. However, my gut instinct tells me that The Sportswriter is a superior book. This is my first encounter with any of Mr Ford's works. He's pretty darn sharp, a son of the South currently residing in Mississippi.

There was hardly any sports in this book at all. What a rip-off.

Frank Bascombe, much like a junkie yearning for heroin, desires a 'normal' suburban life. Once an aspiring writer in New York with his wife, he abandoned fiction writing and fled to the suburbs of Jersey upon getting a sports writing job for a weekly magazine. However, his attempts to be a simple suburbanite without any self-reflection on his life haven't been successful. His young son passed away from a wasting disease, and his wife left him with their other children after discovering he cheated on her during a sports coverage trip.

The book is set over an Easter weekend that starts with Frank meeting his ex-wife (whom he only refers to as X) at their son's grave on the anniversary of his death. Most of the book focuses on Frank's inner thoughts about how things should be.

Frank claims to love the stable suburban lifestyle he still clings to after his divorce and has barely hidden contempt for academics and other artistic types, despite曾经 being one himself. He prides himself on being a literalist who only deals with what's in front of him and doesn't waste time on 'dreaminess' as he used to.

Frank is so conventional that ninety-degree angles envy him. His idea of a romantic weekend with his new girlfriend, Vicki, is a few days in Detroit for one of his sports writing assignments. When a male friend confesses a homosexual encounter, Frank views it as 'monkeyshines'. He would probably live inside a Norman Rockwell painting if possible.

Nevertheless, despite all his claims of literalism and suburban tranquility, Frank is quietly having a breakdown. He prides himself on dealing with life as it is, but he's disappointed and ill-prepared when things go wrong. For instance, he hoped to write an inspiring story about a former football player paralyzed in an accident, but when he finds the man is actually devastated, Frank only thinks about how to make the guy fit into the story he planned, not about how to truthfully tell how the man's life has fallen apart.

The book is very well-written, but I had difficulty relating to Frank. Maybe it's because as a middle-aged male suburbanite myself, I have little patience for Frank's self-deceptions and his fairy tales about suburban life being the best place to stay 'normal' and 'happy'. I like my suburb, but it's just a quiet place to live. As I approach 40, quiet has become extremely important to me. Now get off my lawn, you kids!