Portis: Collected Works

One of the minor pleasures of following American literature is the moment when a former outsider, like Shirley Jackson or Octavia Butler or Philip K. Dick, is ushered into our national pantheon via the tuxedo-like dust jackets and creamy, Bible-thin pages of the Library of America, and it is a sheer delight to me that this month that honor has been granted to the true American weirdo Charles Portis, whose entire output of five novels, plus some true and made-up ephemera, fits into this handsome, compact volume. Turning folks on to the rambling joys of Portis is one of the best parts of my job: I usually start them with The Dog of the South (probably the funniest book I own) and many converts return for more with a zealotry rivaling my own, but now you can just cut out all that back-and-forth and get everything all in one fancy package, and save a few bucks in the meantime. You will not be sorry.