FICTION

RED THE FIEND by Gilbert Sorrentino. (Fromm: $19.95; 213 pp.) With its circuitous repetition, and painful images piled one on top of the other, Gilbert Sorrentino’s latest novel, “Red the Fiend,” reads like a prose-poem. Set in New York during the Depression, “Red the Fiend” shows us, inch by violent inch, the terrible path that has been set for Red, a young boy who will inevitably become a brutal, bitter man. Red’s grandmother beats him until he cowers in the corner and wets his pants, and she has other ingenious ways of breaking him psychologically. “She gives the lobe of Red’s ear a ferocious pinch and Red smiles as tears come to his eyes. Grandma says to Grandpa that he can see for himself if he’s not too thick that the poor child can’t help but cry--look at him--being bullied by Grandpa, may Christ have mercy. . . . The door closes. Grandma gives Red a light rabbit punch, her mouth distorted in what may be a smile.”

“Red the Fiend” is filled with realistic characters, and layers and layers of complexity. Unfortunately, it is also so depressing that deriving pleasure or satisfaction from this book is difficult. There is not one minuscule spark of hope, even for a minor character.

It’s been said that people read expecting to either experience feelings, learn new information, or laugh. Perhaps there is a fourth reason. Perhaps people read for hope.