‘Perhaps the luminous novel is this thing that I started writing today, just now. Maybe these sheets of paper are a warm-up exercise. [...] But it’s quite possible that if I go on writing – as I usually do – with no plan, although this time I know very well what I want to say, things will start to take shape, to come together. I can feel the familiar taste of a literary adventure in my throat.
I’ll take that as confirmation, then, and start describing what I think was the beginning of my spiritual awakening – though nobody should expect religious sermons at this point; they’ll come later. It all began with some ruminations prompted by a dog.’
A writer attempts to complete the novel for which he has been awarded a big fat Guggenheim grant, though for a long time he succeeds mainly in procrastinating – getting an electrician to rewire his living room so he can reposition his computer, buying an armchair, or rather, two: ‘In one, you can’t possibly read: it’s uncomfortable and your back ends up crooked and sore. In the other, you can’t possibly relax: the hard backrest means you have to sit up straight and pay attention, which makes it ideal if you want to read.’
Insomniacs, romantics, and anyone who’s ever written (or failed to write) will fall in love with this compelling masterpiece told by a true original, with all his infuriating faults, charming wit, and intriguing musings.
About the Author
Mario Levrero was born in Montevideo, Uruguay, in 1940 and died there in 2004. He was a photographer, bookseller, comics scriptwriter, humourist, crossword author, and creator of brain games. He wrote twelve novels and several short story collections and it was not long before he gained cult status amongst readers in Uruguay and Argentina, despite keeping a low profile. He has inspired Latin American writers such as Rodolfo Fogwill, Cesar Aira and Alejandro Zambra.
In 2000 he was awarded the Guggenheim grant that allowed him to complete work on The Luminous Novel, which was published posthumously. Annie McDermott's translations include Mario Levrero's Empty Words and The Luminous Novel for And Other Stories , as well as Loop by Brenda Lozano, Feebleminded by Ariana Harwicz (co-translation with Carolina Orloff) and City of Ulysses by Teolinda Gersao (co-translation with Jethro Soutar).
She has previously lived in Mexico City and Sao Paulo, and is now based in London.
Industry Reviews
'This is the latest posthumously translated novel from the Uruguayan Levrero, whose Montevideo apartment was, to quote his translator McDermott, "the centre of a small universe...his legendary literary workshops, which followed an 'unmethodical method' designed to put people in touch with their imagination, produced hundreds of students who consider themselves his disciples." Here, a novelist receives a generous grant that produces an insuperable writer's block. As with Empty Words, in which the protagonist attempts 'graphological self-therapy' (handwriting exercises) to better himself, this is a digressive, Sternean tale in which interruption becomes a kind of illumination.' The Millions, 'Most Anticipated: The Great Second-Half 2021 Preview'---'There's no getting around that this is a rather long novel in which relatively little happens; this is not necessarily trying for the reader-even at it's most everyday-mundane, the diary, for example, is a quite amusing read-but this is a novel which certainly does take its good time. [...] An expansive chronicle of what is ostensibly a failure-the inability to write what the author conceives of as a 'luminous novel'-, The Luminous Novel succeeds. There is a lot to this work.' Michael Orthofer, The Complete Review---'The contradictions between how he experiences his life and how he lives it become evident, as does his obliviousness to the gap in his perception, even when it stares him in the face. Because of this fractured perspective, his story becomes universal . . . The Luminous Novel is a postmodern novel about the contradictions of everyday life, in which an author's struggle reveals that life is what happens when we are busy doing other things.' Foreword Reviews---'This is literature in the same way that John Cage's 4'33" is music.' Publishers Weekly---'A masterwork ... Levrero's big problem, consuming him throughout the book, is that he's won a Guggenheim fellowship to write a novel that is overly ambitious to the point of being impossible. ... Levrero delights in not meeting his obligation to Guggenheim ... Fans of Perec, Coover, and other experimentalists will enjoy Levrero's epic struggle not to write this book. Kirkus, starred review---'From domestic distractions to doubt and crippling insomnia, never has a book about the repetitious banality of the process of writing a novel - or, in fact avoiding writing a novel - been so compelling and accurately rendered. Mario Levrero turns the act of procrastination into a supreme art form.' Benjamin Myers---'From domestic distractions to doubt and crippling insomnia, never has a book about the repetitious banality of the process of writing a novel - or avoiding writing a novel - been so compelling and accurately rendered. Mario Levrero turns the act of procrastination into a supreme art form.' Ben Myers---'We are all his children.' Alvaro Enrigue---'Levrero is an author who challenges the canonical idea of Latin American literature. If you really want to complete the puzzle of our tradition, you must read him.' Juan Pablo Villalobos, Granta ---'The Luminous Novel could qualify as a new instalment in the literature of boredom, except that it's too charmingly, haplessly funny to be boring.' Lily Meyer, NPR---'The Luminous Novel is Levrero's greatest work, which he wrote by forcing himself to write it, knowing beforehand that what he wanted to write was impossible. That's why, instead of the novel, he narrates the distractions that sidetrack him from the novel. It's not so surprising that the happiest moment in The Luminous Novel is when Mario Levrero manages, finally, to fix Word 2000. Surely, fixing Word 2000 is easier than writing that unfathomable novel that Levrero writes but doesn't write. But to write the luminous novel it is necessary to pass through the dark novel; to make true literature it is crucial to turn to, as he says, fraudulent literature. Novel without a novel; literature without literature.' Alejandro Zambra
