Williford populates his books with truly despicable characters. Russell Hixby, a used car salesman, spends his time cheating his customers, mistreating the lot's mechanic, taking advantage of people, randomly hitting people in bars, and rewriting Joyce. His way of spending his free time is to take paragraphs from Ulysses and using a thesaurus simplify the words and writing for the simple people. When he's not at work he's trying to seduce every woman he meets. He listens to Bartok and reads T.S. Eliot. (Let's hope there's no cause-and-effect.) And he likes Kafka because he has a sense of humor.Alyce Vitale's husband suffers from advanced syphilis, has been to a rehab center where he is on the mend but his brain has been addled. She meets Russell at a dance, he takes her home, and begins his slow seduction, getting her to "fall in love" with him. Russell is intrigued by her "differentness," wondering if "she was mysterious or just plain stupid."
No a pretty story. If you like feel-good-happy-ending stories, I do not recommend Williford. Some good writing with an undercurrent of sophisticated sarcasm.
