Review: Anthony Domestico on Charles Portis

Charles Portis, by Nicholson Baker, after a photograph by Larry Obsitnik for the Arkansas Democrat-Gazette, Special Collections, University of Arkansas, Fayetteville, AR

It seems impossible to describe the late novelist Charles Portis without cataloging indispensable passages from his work. From the “Favorite Comparisons” section of my Personal Portis Compendium: “He looked like an overgrown nursery rhyme character with expectations of a pudding”; “Fatigue and unhappiness were in their faces, as of young men whose shorts are bunching up” (the fussy “as of” kills me every time); “Mott always looked sprightly and pleased with himself, like Harry Truman at the piano.” That one, actually, could appear also under “Favorite Presidential Asides,” along with, “I don’t believe we’ve ever had a President, unless it was tiny James Madison with his short arms, who couldn’t have handled Dupree in a fair fight.” Under “Perfect Details”: “When the beer came, I dipped a finger in it and wet down each corner of the paper napkin to anchor it, so it would not come up with the mug each time and make me appear ridiculous.” Under “Words to Live By”: “You must pay for everything in this world one way and another. There is nothing free except the Grace of God.”