The award-winning author of The Boy Who Went Away, Now You See Him, and The Face Thief reads from Best Boy, his new novel about autism, memory, and redemption.
A short documentary film featuring Gottlieb's brother, the model for the protagonist of Best Boy, will be screened at the start of the reading.
Introduced by Bradford Morrow and followed by a Q&A, the event takes place at 2:30 p.m. in Weis Cinema, Bertelsmann Campus Center, and is free and open to the public; no tickets or reservations are required.
PRAISE FOR BEST BOY
“Raw and beautiful with a mesmerizingly rhythmic narration. What rises and shines from the page is Todd Aaron, a hero of such singular character and clear spirit that you will follow him anywhere. You won’t just root for him, you will fight and push and pray for him to wrest control of his future. You will read this book in one sitting or maybe two, and you will miss this man deeply when you are done.” —Washington Post
“Fascinating. Gottlieb's imaginings of what's going on in the mind of an adult living somewhere on the autism spectrum feel credible and real. Lyrical.” —Chicago Tribune
“I've fallen in love with Best Boy, touched by its delicacy and fearless truths.” —Cynthia Ozick
“Arresting. The book’s empathy is bracing.” —New Yorker
“An eloquent, sensitive rendering of a marginalized life. Gottlieb merits praise for both the endearing eloquence of Todd's voice and a deeply sympathetic parable that speaks to a time when rising autism rates and long-lived elders force many to weigh tough options.” —Kirkus Reviews, Starred Review
“The latest from Gottlieb is written through the perspective of Todd: his voice is spectacular, oscillating between casual and obsessive and frequently challenging the stereotypes that haunt those with autism and similar conditions. Gottlieb’s attention to crafting Todd’s internal monologue is something to behold.” —Publishers Weekly, Starred Review
“Best Boy is a remarkable achievement—an intimate and convincing portrayal of what the world looks like from inside the mind of a mentally handicapped but unusually sensitive, observant, and decent man.” —Alison Lurie
A Cabinet of Curiosity
Edited by Bradford Morrow
Edited by Bradford Morrow
January 15, 2019
Outside the stars were fading and the sky was slowly rosying at the edges when we found the skeleton. At first it was visible only as a clutch of white daggers, thickly clotted with spiderwebs, compressed between the plaster wall and the heavy wooden timbers. I don’t know what I expected it to be.
January 8, 2019
On the bus, we were told to remember everything, to testify, testify, testify. We’d heard this many times before. Remember and testify, they would say, in order that this or that bad thing does not happen again. I harbored no such faith in remembering. Nor in testimony. I fail to believe in them still.
January 1, 2019
Someone shouted at me to grab a blanket or a coat or something for crissakes, the narrator of The Bystander says, and wrap your old man up, because after assaulting the woman the narrator’s father liked best, and after running out with nothing on but the soap from the bath he’d been taking with her, the narrator’s father is standing on the street, shouting imprecations at her,