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Oates's "Man Crazy"

© Robert Powers

Joyce Carol Oates has written so many books over the past three decades that publishers no longer list the titles opposite the title page. There simply are too many of them. Despite continuing advice that she be more deliberate in spewing out new books, Oates continues to write at an astonishing rate.

Her latest novel, "Man Crazy" (William Dutton, $23.95) recently received a scathing review from Michiko Kakutani of The New York Times, who dubbed the book "inept and gratuitously lurid. . . an embarrassing performance, particularly for a writer of Ms. Oates's experience and talents."

I've been an Oates fan since her earliest novels. Over the years she's written an amazing variety of books on a bewildering array of topics (a few years ago, she wrote with authority about pro boxing. Occasionally, it's true that her work is less than overwhelming. But "Man Crazy" certainly ranks among her most interesting novels in recent years.

Narrator Ingrid Boone relates her story from the age of five. It's a harrowing account of the necessity of love and what happens when it's withheld. For Ingrid, the breakup of her parents' marriage leads her to begin an adolescence that propels her into the worst occasions of overindulgence — all the time making her sad search for love.

There are passages here that rival anything Oates has produced. The book's somewhat abrupt turn toward repulsive activities detract from the wonderful writing that occupies the first two-thirds of this relatively brief novel.

There's a tacked-on feeling to the story's conclusion which doesn't ring true with what has gone before. But make no mistake, "Man Crazy" is a powerful demonstration of the awesome writing talent of one of America's best.