Propelled by lyrical prose that flouts the conventions of grammar and style, it’s a sports novel that’s also a thriller and an existential horror story, though it doesn’t blend genres so much as cycle through them in succession...The results are disorienting, and often thrilling...This style of impressionistic prose doesn’t illuminate Nineteen’s inner life so much as offer a sense of what it feels like at the center of the huddle...Compounding Nineteen’s sizable array of problems, his football days have left him with 'yellow patches of dead and dying tissue where blood vessels had bruised themselves against the brain case'...In layman’s terms, he’s got CTE, the neurodegenerative disease that afflicts NFL players at an alarmingly high rate...Marten’s a gifted stylist, and if anything holds Pure Life together, it’s his consistently exciting prose...And while at times I wondered if the book might benefit from a heavier editorial hand, I’m ultimately convinced that—as in the cases of Poe, Melville, and James, not to mention Woolf, Bellow, and Faulkner—its nebulous shape affords Marten the room to rev up to rhapsodic peaks.
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