The only reason I read Mark Sarvas's debut novel, Harry, Revised, was because I enjoy his literary blog, The Elegant Variation. I found it to be a fairly good novel, but it seemed easy to discern that it was his first. Though I doubt my ability to judge fairly because of the circumstances under which I became aware of it, I nevertheless found it to be enjoyable.

Harry Rent is a recent widower who is smitten by a young waitress. He attempts to win her by manipulating her life as well as others, all the while trying to deal (or rather not to deal) with the death of his wife. The plot suffers from being a bit too earnest, and though I am glad Sarvas didn't cheat the ending, I never really doubted where Harry would end up in the end.

Someone dies, and the survivor goes through the stages of grief throughout the story. He denies his feelings, he is angry with himself, feels guilty about his anger, etc. It's a worn trope. So what does Sarvas bring to the table to compensate?

The book is pretty funny, both with regards to narration and the absurd situations in which Harry finds himself. The characterization makes all the prominent characters well drawn, save Harry's in-laws who seem to be stereotypes. And at times I was personally affected by the Harry's dilemma. Though I haven't had the analogous situation in my own life, much of the emotion rendered carried a sense of verisimilitude that made empathizing come rater easily, at least for me.

Though humorous, the narrative is a little clunky, especially at first. As to whether I adapted as I went on or it got better, I am unsure. And word choice was at times quite perplexing. Why use a five-syllable word that will send readers to a dictionary when a more common word would do? The point of view is third person limited, through Harry, and as he is described, one wouldn't expect to hear such words out of Harry.

I would be remiss not to mention the Marxist overtones. Harry is a fairly successful doctor, but his wife is from `old money.' His inability to fit into that world make up a lot of the plot, while he drives a Jaguar up to the crappy little restaurant/diner where he interacts with the object of his affection and another waitress. This other waitress is very poor, behind on all her bills, and has a son `in the system.' Though the idea of class runs throughout the novel, Sarvas never really makes any lasting comment on society. Almost as if it just worked as a device for his plot and he never really gave it a second thought.

Despite its flaws, I found Harry, Revised to be an enjoyable way to spend a few hours, which all in all was the real reason I picked up the book. I'll be interested to see where Sarvas goes in the future.

Mark Sarvas the critic had every reason to be frightened of the reception that might greet Harry, Revised. Seriously. The dude's got balls. I can't help but think of Peter Bogdanovich, who, like Sarvas was known to level his share of withering criticism before ever stepping into the ring. But like Bogdanovich, Sarvas has stepped up and delivered with his debut. What's more, in Harry, Revised, Sarvas has deftly dealt with subject matter that in lesser hands, might well have walked a banal line-- American male mid-life crisis and all its attending pitfalls. Where Sarvas shines is in the details. And the humor. And the depth. In short, in all the right places. Harry Rent, in all his flawed, disquieting, awkward sub-glory, is achingly alive, and very memorable. I highly recommend this book to anyone who has ever had the wheels fall of their cart.

As a regular reader of Mark Sarvas's litblog, I snapped this up as soon as it came out but was afraid to let me expectations rise too much. A first novel can be a tricky thing, and reading someone's voice in fiction for the first time is nothing like reading his essays.

But by the end of the first chapter, I was very optimistic--though still a bit cautious. Harry, a forty-something widower lusting after a young waitress, was perfectly drawn to be just the right combination of pathetic and dirty-minded, charming and neurotic, and relatable. The third-person narrator has access to much of Harry's internal monologue, which is smart, funny, and somewhat depressing--a microcosm of the novel as a whole, really.

In less talented hands, the characters could easily have become unbearable. A young, sexy, full-of-herself grad student/waitress with a bad boyfriend could have ruined a story single-handedly, with no help from an exercise-addicted, über-motivated career woman (the dead wife), but instead we completely understand why Harry loves these women and accept him with all his flaws. Too often I am left wondering in vain at the inexplicable actions of a character who has "grown" emotionally in the course of a novel, but the changes Harry goes through felt genuine and understandable. His resolution, though as imperfect and open-ended as reality demands, was still comprehensible and satisfying.

I have not been this excited about a book by an author not previously known as "safe" since I can remember, and I can only hope that Mr. Sarvas has more of the same waiting in the wings.