Collected Fiction [Paperback]

What Louis Zukofsky offers in his novel, Little, is a fictive account of the life of his family. While many of us may not be completely familiar with Louis Zukofsky's life, this edition of his collected fiction comes with notes written by his son, Paul, the inspiration for the main character in Little, the violin virtuoso, Little Baron Snorck. Paul was, himself, a young violin virtuoso.

The story is a chronicling of Little's life as a child, from birth to, roughly, age twelve. His father, Dala Baballo, and his mother, Verchadet, also play major roles in the development of the novel. The novel, however, seems mainly concerned with showing you how Little Baron, called "Snorckie" during his younger years, develops and matures in the eight or so years Zukofsky writes about him.

The plotline is relatively static. Little wants to play the violin. His parents encourage him and find the best teachers so that he may become more skillful. And for the last fifty pages, we are given an account of Little's concert performances and the reviews which follow. While that may seem to be a bare-bones description of the text, Zukofsky does not give much more in terms of plot. The author, however, shines with his technique.

Zukofsky is consistent in giving us things to laugh or chuckle at. Who couldn't giggle at names as absurd as Nasaltwang, Otototot, or Mr. Athens Olympus? Speaking of Mr. Athens Olympus, he was Little's first male violin instructor who ended up not being good enough for the family. The family instead decided upon Mr. Betur. Get it? Betur = better. Also hidden in the names are famous figures of literature and music. Zukofsky, who knew Ezra Pound, disguises Ezra Pound's name as RZ Draykup, for instance.

But Zukofsky is able to add humor to his novel in other ways as well. For one, Little tends to believe that certain words mean what they don't actually mean. When he wants to say the word "language," he ends up using the word "anguish." When he wants to speak about the name of the object he uses to write his thoughts in, he says it is his "dairy," not his "diary." Though subtle, this seemingly minor mixing up of words becomes a catalyst for Little's growth. At one point in the novel, you understand that Little is maturing when he calls his diary by its proper name: Diary. The moment passes quickly, but Zukofsky heightens the moment with Little's father's emotional response. Dala is saddened that Little used the correct word. A piece of his son's childhood has gone away.

Zukofsky is also able to express an incredibly strong relationship between Dala, Verchadet, and Little, who they stop calling "Snorckie" by the time he is about six or seven. With subtlety, Zukofsky achieves moments of intense emotional weight, such as the moment where the father notices that his son is no longer such a little boy.

For the most part, Little is a demanding novel to read. It takes time to get through each paragraph. And even though the chapters are short, you can't just fly through them. There's a lot to pick out of each chapter in this novel. The dialogue is rich and witty as is Little's diary entry when it is given in the text. But what you certainly can't do is breeze through the novel and expect to get much out of it. Zukofsky wants you to work, perhaps even struggle with the novel a bit. I'm not trying to say that the novel is exceedingly difficult to read like Faulkner's The Sound and the Fury or Joyce's Ulysses, but Little does require diligence and patience. I would also strongly recommend reading Paul Zukofsky's notes in the back of the book in order to gain a fuller understanding of the novel. Happy reading.

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