Eastman Was Here by Alex Gilvarry

Eastman Was Here

An ambitious new novel set in the literary world of 1970s New York, following a washed-up writer in an errant quest to pick up the pieces of his life.The year is 1973, and Alan Eastman, a public intellectual, accidental cultural critic, washed-up war journalist, husband, and philanderer; finds himself alone on the floor of his study in an existential crisis. His wife has taken their kids and left him to live with her mother in New Jersey, and his...

Details Eastman Was Here

TitleEastman Was Here
Release DateAug 15th, 2017
GenreFiction, Historical, Historical Fiction, Literary Fiction, New York, War

Reviews Eastman Was Here

  • Timothy Lane
    A brisk, nuanced look at a few tumultuous months in a man's life. Told with humor and heart in simple, effective prose.
  • Cheryl
    To be honest, in the beginning, I was not such a fan of this book. The main character, Eastman was crass towards women. I could see why this may have been part of this reason his wife left him. He was not in love anymore. So, I almost put the book down. Yet, this was all before Eastman left. Which I wanted to see him in Saigon and in his element again as a writer. I do have to say that Eastman grew on me. I won't say that we have become best frie...
  • Charles
    My wife told me that Susan Sontag proposed that "prick lit" should be recognized as a male counterpoint to chick lit, which amused me because at the time I was reading "Eastman Was Here," very much a prick lit pastiche, and a really funny and compelling novel, to boot, about a Norman Mailer figure who makes an ill-considered stab at salvaging his failing marriage by going to Vietnam and reporting on the end of the war.
  • Roxanne Meek
    I can't remember a character I disliked as much as Alan Eastman. This one was a tough one to finish. 2.5 stars
  • Nell
    If you can let yourself enjoy how ridiculous & awful Eastman is, then this can be a good time.
  • Anthony Crupi
    Three-and-a-half stars. Gilvarry pulls off an audacious show of literary ventriloquism—Eastman *is* Norman, in all his sins and graces—but the uncanny resurrection of Brooklyn's ballsy, blustery bullshit artist is a reminder of how terribly dated much of Mailer's work was even while the bookbinder's glue was still drying. (FFS: Enough already with anthologizing dopey trash like "The White Negro.") Gilvarry is a fine writer, and the themes he ...