![]() ![]() Essentially a grand associative monologue, a stand-up routine-raw, seemingly extemporaneous, filled with self-loathing, cruelty, horror and grief-this short novel is a gift of pain, passed on by an imagined comedian to an imagined audience he’s provoking with a sledgehammer, and from there to the reader who submits to the bargain. The Israeli writer David Grossman’s latest novel, A Horse Walks into a Bar, is anchored in the same artistic tradition. ![]() His wit has been honed by suffering, and there’s wisdom to be gained from watching the antics. I was a small child looking at slapstick pantomime, but I understood the covenant at the center of great comedic performance: You have to let the comedian pass on the pain. You laughed, but you had to feel sorry for him. Left out of the spotlight, he carried a sledgehammer and ran after the other clowns who wouldn’t have anything to do with him. ![]() The earliest comedy I remember with any clarity was created by a famous tragic clown, a circus performer whose painted mouth was perpetually turned down in a frown. ![]()
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