ROBERT LEVIN is the author of “When Pacino’s Hot, I’m Hot: A Miscellany of Stories and Commentary,” The Drill Press, “Against Mental Health: Short Stories,” Cyberwit, “The Killer and Other Stories,” Cyberwit, “A Robert Levin Reader,” Cyberwit and “Going Outside: Fiction • Commentary • Jazz,” Cyberwit.

He is also the coauthor and coeditor, respectively, of two collections of essays about jazz and rock in the ’60s: “Music & Politics” (with John Sinclair), World Publishing, and “Giants of Black Music” (with Pauline Rivelli), Da Capo Press.

A former contributor to the Village Voice, Rolling Stone and Cavalier, Levin’s fiction and more recent essays have, among numerous other places, appeared in or on the websites of Absinthe Literary Review, Across the Margin, All About Jazz, Best of Nuvein Fiction, Cosmoetica, Eyeshot, Facsimilation, Konch Magazine, New Cross-Fucked Musings on a Manic Reality, New York Daily News, New York Review, Sweet Fancy Moses, Underground Voices, Unlikely Stories of the Third Kind, Unspeakable — A Pulpcult Anthology of Contemporary Fiction, Woodstock Times and the Word Riot 2003 Anthology.

Levin’s Wikipedia entry

From reviews of “Going Outside: Fiction • Commentary • Jazz“

Publisher: Cyberwit

288 Pages

Available from Amazon or directly from Cyberwit

“So who the hell is Robert Levin? Well, there’s always the Wikipedia article, where you can learn that he’s a jazz critic, a short story writer, and a writer of music liner notes. He seems to have had his heyday here and there — a critical article in the Village Voice about the 1963 March on Washington that drew a year’s worth of responses; a 2004 recipient of storySouth Million Writers Award Notable Story.”

“That story leads off ‘Going Outside.’ Dare I confess that I read this volume over the course of seven dog walks? Let me add that it was one of my more pleasurable dog walking experiences, which is otherwise a dreadful bore. The reason is simple: Levin is funny. Leaving aside the lead short story, itself a ribald tale of mistaken identity and the sexual pleasures that can derive therefrom, the miscellany and commentary are laugh-out-loud grotesques, some weirdly Dickensian in their exaggeration of the mundane, others Jamesian in their syntactically elaborate transformations of the bizarre into the clinical or poetic. Only examples will do. In his screed ‘Recycle This!’ on a recycling notice asking residents ‘to sort and…rinse [their] garbage before leaving it out,’ he writes: ‘So while I’ll allow that self-immolation would constitute a disproportionate form of protest, I have to say that reacting with less than indignation to so gratuitous an imposition would also be inappropriate.’ That’s a fairly ornate response to a recycling notice. Like I said, pure Dickens.

“Or consider ‘Sex with a Very Large Woman,’ a story so wonderfully offensive that it would be impossible not to relish the absurd attempt to poeticize the physical challenges set before Levin’s narrator: ‘Peggie’s body could have served as a Special Forces training ground for the field of hazards and challenges its presented. I’m speaking of the twisting climbs and sudden valleys, the crags, the craters and the amazing plenitude of gullies, ravines and bogs that I was, and on my hands and knees, obliged to negotiate and traverse in my search.’ And don’t even ask what he was searching for. You can probably guess.

“In some ways, Levin is at his best wringing every drop of qualification from a feeling or thought, an instance of rage or fear, often in one long but densely packed sentence. The bathos of the stories and of some of the miscellany — there are cantankerous whines about cashiers and their stupidity, smoking bans, HMOs, aging, the aforementioned recycling notices — is actually what makes it all worth the reading. Levin, in essence, gets more out of the mundane through an overwrought prose style that is utterly apropos to the sensibility behind it.

“But there’s no substitute for the man himself, so let’s conclude with his thoughts on when one of God’s ‘natural wonders’ — in this case a solar eclipse — fails to deliver the goods: ‘I’ll allow that, however disappointing it may be, it’s ultimately of small consequence when He mounts a shoddy eclipse. But it’s something else again when, for one especially egregious example, He leaves you to blow out all your circuits trying to figure just where a mindless inferno of neuroticism like Mia Farrow fits into the notion that everyone’s here for a reason.’ Consider my own circuits blown.” — Bennett Lovett-Graff, New Haven Review

5 Stars “Highly enjoyable, clever and wholly original, ‘Going Outside’ proves a fine read with its eclectic combination of short stories, cutting commentary and dialogues on Jazz.

“One of the criticisms often leveled at short story anthologies is that it’s hard to lose oneself in the succinctness of such short works, but Levin easily turns brevity to his advantage and the enjoyment of his readers.

“Avoiding the pitfalls of flat and prescriptive dialogue, he confidently captures the essence of his characters which in turn makes unfolding events all the more poignant. With taut prose he’s mastered the art of expanding upon a given moment, holding his characters and events up to scrutiny then moving on. There’s no wanton dallying, each of his stories punches above its word count without being overstated and there’s a powerful sense of familiarity to each one.

“But Levin gives us much more than 13 short stories and with commentaries like ‘Everything’s All Right In The Middle East,’ ‘Proving God By Consensus’ and ‘Why Utopia Will Forever Elude Us’ we are granted a unique perspective on an extraordinary mind.

“’I don’t know what man-made horrors await the planet in the coming years. I do know they’ll be impervious to history and abundant and that the unacceptability of death will be at their root,’ is how Levin ends his latter commentary with each of his commentaries sure to elicit serious reflection.

“Finally, Levin turns his thoughts to jazz. Unapologetically blunt with plenty of vintage material on which to draw he has wonderful behind the scenes tales to share. Not only recalling events and feelings but delivering them in a tone and voice that is engaging and rich with detail.

“An all-round superb read from an intellectually cutting mind ‘Going Outside’ is recommended without reservation.” — Book Viral

5 Stars. “An eclectic mix of short fiction and commentary by a man who is clearly a born writer, this volume will make you an instant fan. Levin uses irreverent humor, but his work can also be poignant and sweet. I was easily hooked by the opening story, ‘When Pacino’s Hot, I’m Hot.’ Levin’s writing made this [unusual] story work. And after that and onto the next selections, you realize Levin has more than one style and perspective. He takes you on clever imaginative journeys that make you blush, laugh, or smile… He has the provocative blue humor of a stand-up comedian. But fiction only scratches the surface of what Levin writes. He also writes about political and social issues and about jazz. If you’re looking for attitude, funny lines, cringe-worthy moments and pathos don’t pass up ‘Going Outside’ by Robert Levin.” — Tammy Ruggles, Readers’ Favorite

*”Levin’s short stories (and jazz commentaries as well) are fantastic. His writing is simply brilliant, the intelligence and wit sharp beyond comparison, and his humor is wry and beautifully sardonic; there were occasions which had me in stitches. Each piece peels back another layer of the author, and we very quickly start to realize that there is far, far more meaning to Levin’s writing than I think some give him credit for. In truth, what may start off to some feeling in some ways puerile in fact soon evolves into something much deeper and more existentially profound. We start to learn a great deal about Levin – no more so than his transfixion (some might even call it an obsession) with the inevitably of death; it even reaches an extent to which this probably becomes the theme of the entire book, both the fiction and non-fiction elements. A writer of superior intellect and quality, he says what he believes in plain language, articulately, eloquently and without apologetic filter or the contrite hypocrisy of many other writers – and for this he is truly to be admired.” — Matt McAvoy, Book Reviews

“Levin takes readers on a brazen tour of the realms of fiction. He’s not afraid to delve into the darker corners of the mind and to challenge the reader’s perceptions of reality.

“Levin’s writing invites readers to take on a deeper understanding. His writing goes way beyond the surface shedding light on societal opinions and perhaps prompting readers to reconsider any of their own preconceived ideas. His stories, essays, and jazz pieces are entertaining yet dive in deep to challenge any reader into a thought-provoking literal journey.”

“This is a book of self-discovery for both the author and the reader. While readers page through the collection they’ll go from fiction to a shift into non-fiction which serves as an opportunity for experiencing the author’s imagination combined with his perspective all in the same space.

“There is much depth here with this transformative collection of the interplay between fiction, reality, and self-reflection. There is much here beyond the literal words.” — Pegasus Literary

“Robert Levin’s collection of short stories, ‘Going Outside,’ is not for the faint of heart. Levin reaches into the darkest corners of the mind to produce situations so shocking that they border on hilarity. Truths masquerade as fictions within these pages; the writing is verbose if only to distract the reader from the reality in which they live.

“At first glance, the stories may seem crass and meant solely for entertainment, but if the reader chooses to delve deeper, an understanding is created. For example, Levin includes a story about having sex with an obese woman named Peggie. The narrator explains that his agenda in sleeping with this woman is to ensure that he has slept with a woman in every body type category, a goal of his. The story itself comes across as insensitive, and it puts women into boxes to check. Their sexuality and experiences seem to aid the development of men in this story. The absolute absurdity of the story may be missed by the common man, but Levin’s writing deserves a closer look. The ludicrous nature of the story itself shows insight into opinions largely held by society for decades.

“Many of Levin’s tales are preposterous and cover topics that most would shy away from due to their dark nature. ‘Dogs Days’ is a particularly horrific story which you will have to read for yourself to believe. In reading this book, you need to keep in mind the title; many of us need to literally go outside and breathe in reality. It is commentary on the world by way of outrageous details. It cannot be taken at face value; doing that would be a disservice to the author and to the self.

“Further along in the collection, you will find nonfiction — commentary from the author to the reader directly. I implore you to stick with the book to get to this section. It is a rare occasion indeed when you get to read both the fictional accounts of things and the author’s explanation in the same space. Levin takes the time to reach out to the reader and explain more on his perspective. Clearly, the meanings of these stories are more than the denotation of the words on the page.

“Engage the cleverest parts of your mind and crack open the ‘Commentary’ section; you’ll find yourself enlightened.”
— Elizabeth Zender, Independent Book Review

Five Stars. “‘Going Outside’ by Robert Levin is a collection of short stories, thoughts on random topics, and jazz music stories. The stories range from comical to twisted and gruesome tales. The book lets you dive into the mind of a man who wants to sleep with a large woman, another who is obsessed with a woman who loves danger, and a man whose fear of commitment turns into a desire to kill. Readers will enjoy reading these stories. The author also comments on random topics like the conflict in the Middle East, aging, ‘Schindler’s List,’ religion, fans, and critics, and covers many more issues. Last, he talks about the origin of jazz music and its musicians. He mentions Free Jazz pioneers like Cecil Taylor, Sunny Murray, and Jimmy Lyons.

“‘Going Outside’ has a wealth of information. Reading it feels like reading many books at once. I loved this because it shows Robert Levin’s creativity and a broad range of writing. The stories have a consistent theme of death, mortality, and life having an expiry date. The author covers critical issues about mental health, childhood trauma, abortion, and religion. The fusion of these issues with his casual conversational style made the book an enjoyable read. The rant to the reviewer who criticized his ‘Dog Days’ story was hilarious yet honest. He talks about the spiritual elements of jazz music and its value with great passion. The collection is well-written with a consistent format and because of its many topics, everyone will find something to relate to.”
— Doreen Chombu, Readers’ Favorite

“’Stupidity is among the most effective means available to reduce existential terror to a tolerable disquietude.’

“Robert Levin’s collection of short stories and commentary had me laughing out loud with its societal quips and lashes. I had published a story of Levin’s previously in Sein und Werden. ‘Dog Days’ is about a man who is caught in flagrante delicto with his girlfriend’s dog. So I kind of knew what to expect with these stories. Yes it’s bawdy. It might be toilet humor. But it’s very intelligent and it spares no one. It takes the piss out of society.

“‘Sylvia,’ Helen said, ‘why are we talking about your ass now? You know your ass isn’t the issue… I told you what it is, it’s your ankles. They’ve started to make me cross. I can’t help it.’

“Mostly it takes the piss out of its own protagonist.

“’A subversive I may be, but I’ve never been of the militant variety. When the SDS was blowing up banks in the early ’70s, I was expressing my displeasure with the establishment by intentionally omitting zip codes — that’ll jam their gears!’

“I enjoyed the stories. But I loved the essays. Levin has written for Rolling Stone. He’s written for the Village Voice. He knows about music. He’s co-written two books on jazz. He’s also slightly bitter. A little bit twisted. Someone I can relate to. He talks about sex and death, ie, fear of the unknown, fear of dying without having really lived, fear of pain and terror. He has something to say on the subject of non-smokers: ‘Like you I’m dealing with an out-sized fear of dying,’ where the smoker seizes control of his ultimate cut-off point by taking the risk of cancer out of the hands of death and into his own nicotine-stained fingers.

“People who recycle:

“’These people are coming from the secret hope that if they suck up to nature by not wasting any of it — and get the rest of us to follow suit — nature will return the favor and arrange to perpetuate their existence in some other package once their current status expires.’

“And general stupidity…

“’Let me hasten to say that I value stupidity as much as the next man. I do. Stupidity is, after all, one of the best solutions we’ve come up with to the problem of being mortal.’

“This is a brilliantly entertaining book, which will have you nodding in agreement whilst feeling slightly guilty for laughing so hard. To conclude this short review, I’ll let the author himself say a few words:

“’I wish I could make my cat laugh.’” — Rachel Kendall, Sein und Werden

“Robert Levin has three things going for him. One, he is extremely intelligent. Two, he has complete control of the English language and makes the most of it. Three, he has an unusual sense of humor. The combination of intelligent humor and witty storytelling is effective and the result of it is the collection of short stories and essays entitled, ‘Going Outside.’” — Casey Quinn, Short Story Library

5 Stars “‘Going Outside’ is a highly imaginative and captivating collection of short fiction and commentary that effortlessly blends various tones, from the comical to the intense, resulting in a powerful and thought-provoking reading experience. With its timely and relevant themes, this book offers a formal yet serious exploration of the human condition, sprinkled with satirical elements and clever wit.”— Pubby

4 out of 4 stars — Online Book Club

“From pondering about the universe to poop jokes — this is the range of inquiry and humor that author Robert Levin brings in his short story collection, “Going Outside”. With about a dozen funny bone poking short stories and commentaries…”Going Outside” is highly recommended for community library short story collections and for short story enthusiasts in general!” — Midwest Book Review

“His short fiction is humorously irreverent and delightfully inventive…His reflection on the jazz of Cecil Taylor…is fascinating and a high point of the book.” — Javier Vargas

“Damn, he’s a bloody good writer! Verbose but hilarious. His stories and essays present a mad, vulgar, dysfunctional world that the author flounders around in. Great entertainment.”
— Harold Nawy, Prof. Emeritus, University of California, Berkeley

“A writer of talent and intelligence.” — Irving Louis Horowitz

Comments On
specific Chapters
or sections

“‘When Pacino’s Hot’ is the funniest story I’ve ever read.” — Cecil Taylor

“The Pacino story is comic genius — satire at its best. Like Swift’s ‘A Modest Proposal,’ there is no back-peddling or apology — it takes its suggestion to the nth degree and leaves the reader reeling in the joyful discovery of the author’s tongue-in-cheek. Pacino delivers self-deprecation and humor that packs a punch. No wonder that it was a storySouth Million Writers Award Notable Story of 2004. In fact, the collection is worth owning just for the joy of reading those first delicious Pacino pages.

“This is a story of repeated mistaken identity — sometimes Levin’s character is Dustin Hoffman, sometimes Leonard Cohen, sometimes Al Pacino. The women love him, or the famous man they believe him to be. Sadly, taking the goggle-eyed women home to his place is problematic:

“’Now before I go on I should point out that my place isn’t exactly a showplace. It suits my budget, but it’s in an old Lower East Side building where the facilities aren’t in their conventional locations. (We’re talking bathtub in the living room, toilet in the kitchen, that sort of thing.) Plus, I share the joint with several legions of cockroaches, an ever-extending family of rodents and an apparently unprecedented and aerodynamic hybrid of the two. (The biologists who’ve come from everywhere to investigate this phenomenon always leave with very concerned expressions on their faces.)’

“But the fact remains, a woman wants this fellow’s attention, and he’s learned the hard way that correcting her mistake only leads to heartache, sometimes worse.

”’I’ve given the matter a great deal of thought and I’ll explain this just once. The women I attract are not what you’d call off the top shelf. Though they all qualify as women in the technical sense, are all, that is, in possession of the crucial anatomical components (which, more often than not, are in something like a normal configuration), they are not exactly achingly beautiful, beaming with mental health or candidates for a Star Fleet Academy scholarship. In fact, and without exception, they are pretty desperate people, sick puppies and three-legged cat types. Many of them suffer horrendous hygiene problems and are also myopic to the point of posing a serious threat to themselves. They are usually very drunk as well. Given their condition the service I provide them is every bit as valuable as what they do for me.’

“The story delivers sublime images, dialogue and descriptions, and a charming little love story too.

“’A sparrow of a girl, no more than four-foot-ten and alarmingly skinny, Roger had thick black hair that, falling over most of her face, also fell nearly to the floor. The first time I saw her, from the other end of a long and crowded bar, I thought she was a half-opened umbrella standing on its handle.’

“Cyberwit must be congratulated for creating the vehicle by which to get Levin’s Pacino story on the road. How often does one encounter undiluted intelligent foolishness and tears of laughter?” — Nancy Freund, Necessary Fiction

“Levin’s ‘A Season at the Center of the Universe: Cecil Taylor at the Take Three’ is a superb piece of writing. It’s not just a music review or a simple memoir, it’s a rich, multi-layered evocation of a specific time, place and artistic revolution, centered on one of its most formidable figures.

“Indeed, it’s a masterful work of creative nonfiction that succeeds on three levels: as a vivid historical document, a profound character study of Cecil Taylor and a deeply personal confession of the author’s own artistic anxieties. Levin’s prose is energetic, witty and deeply felt, placing the reader directly in the smoky, transformative atmosphere of a 1962 Greenwich Village coffee house.

“He perfectly captures the ethos of the early 1960s New York jazz avant-garde. He articulates the almost messianic belief shared by the scene’s participants: ‘An increasing number of us live with the conviction that a seismic change in human consciousness is both possible and imminent. We also share a belief that the New Jazz is showing the way.’

“This isn’t just background; it’s the spiritual fuel for the entire narrative. Quotes like Alan Silva’s about traffic lights becoming obsolete illustrate a genuine, if naive, utopianism that defined the era.

“Levin avoids hagiography, presenting Taylor as a genius, but also as a human being. We see Taylor’s pursuit of a ‘discrete system of his own’ and the importance of the Take Three residency for developing his art with like-minded collaborators like Jimmy Lyons. We see Taylor’s loyalty to Lyons, buying him a Selmer saxophone, and his grief after Lyons’ death. We also see Taylor’s suffering from a debilitating ulcer, convinced it will kill him. This multi-faceted portrayal — including his quip about Coleman Hawkins (‘Maybe ‘Bean’ didn’t have a bean’) and his theatrical banter with Levin — makes Taylor feel real and three-dimensional.

“The heart of the piece is Levin’s deeply honest confession of his own insecurities. His relationship with Taylor is a classic case of the journalist/artist dynamic, fraught with envy and a sense of inadequacy. Levin is the promoter, the ‘unofficial publicist,’ whose writing fills the club. Yet, he feels like only a ‘person of artistic persuasion’ — a label from Taylor that ’embarrasses and infuriates’ him. The central, beautifully rendered argument over the unwritten tune ‘Bobt’ is a masterpiece of dialogue, revealing Levin’s petulance and Taylor’s deflective genius. Levin’s outburst — ‘I’m going to be my own Cecil Taylor’ — is the cry of every artist struggling in the shadow of a giant.

“The resolution to this is perfect and deeply moving. Taylor’s revelation that a poem Levin wrote and that Levin calls ‘awful,’ inspired Taylor to start writing poetry himself is the ‘gift beyond measure’ that Levin needed. It doesn’t solve his existential crisis, but it validates his creative influence, elevating him from a mere ‘flack’ to a genuine muse.

“In a masterful use of anecdotes to build a world, Levin populates the narrative with legendary figures, using brief encounters to illustrate the scene’s dynamics. The ‘love fest’ with Coltrane, Dolphy and Taylor shows the deep respect among the era’s giants, even across stylistic lines. The tragicomic scene of the jazz patriarch, Coleman Hawkins, refusing to pay a dollar symbolizes the generational rift the new music created. The tense, rainy street encounter with Ornette Coleman reveals the undercurrent of competition and ambition beneath the surface camaraderie. The surreal, iconic moment of Jack Kerouac sliding under the piano is both hilarious and profound, a meeting of two revolutionary ‘greatest in the worlds’ that feels both mythic and perfectly plausible.

“The extended anecdote about Albert Ayler’s impromptu sit-in is a standout piece of music writing. Levin doesn’t just describe the sound; he makes you feel it: ‘It wasn’t a sequence of notes so much as an amalgam of sounds. Primal sounds. Ecstatic sounds. Achingly mournful sounds. Grotesque and funny sounds.‘

“The Ayler section serves to expand the story beyond Taylor, showing the movement’s explosive growth and introducing its next tragic genius. The poignant postscript about finding Ayler’s tie in his closet years later is a heartbreaking grace note, connecting the ecstatic past to a loss-filled future.

“It’s difficult to find significant flaws in a piece this strong. One could argue that the structure is somewhat episodic, jumping between 1962 and 1963 and later years. However, this nonlinear approach feels intentional, mimicking the associative nature of memory and reinforcing the piece’s theme of a cherished, unified memory (‘I tend to recall both gigs as one’).

“The prose, while brilliant, is dense and packed with name-dropping, which might be challenging for a reader unfamiliar with the era’s jazz landscape. But for the intended audience, this density is part of the appeal, creating an immersive, insider’s view.

“‘Cecil Taylor at the Take Three’ is a triumph. Levin has written what amounts to a short story as rich and layered as a piece of great fiction, yet it carries the undeniable power of truth. It’s an essential primary source for anyone interested in the history of jazz, a brilliant character study of a complex artistic genius and a universal story about friendship, envy and the struggle to find one’s own creative voice.

The chapter ends on a note of pure, unadulterated transcendence. With the Kerouac incident, Levin’s earlier bitterness melts away. His final line — ‘Right now my simple proximity to this is enough to make me feel like I’ll live forever’ — is the ultimate testament to the power of the art and to the moment he was privileged to witness and so vividly record.”

More from the Same Reviewer

“‘Against Mental Health’ is a bold and unsettling narrative by Levin that combines grotesque comedy, existential reflection and a critique of therapeutic culture, serving as both a satire of psychiatry and a deep philosophical exploration, reminiscent of Thomas Bernhard, Philip Roth and particularly echoing Ernest Becker’s ideas in ‘The Denial of Death.’

“Levin’s narrator — self-deprecating, mordantly funny and brutally candid — guides us through a first-person confession that begins as a farce about bad therapy and devolves into a vision of metaphysical terror. The prose style is quintessential Levin: baroque yet controlled, abrasive yet musical, its humor working as both shield and scalpel. The opening line — ‘If I ever see a shrink again it’ll have to be under a court order’ — sets the tone: colloquial, antagonistic, immediately self-aware. From there, the piece builds with almost Nabokovian precision, alternating deadpan absurdity (the self-blowjob gag; the booger-eating girlfriend) with psychological exposition that slowly becomes profound.

“Levin’s sentences often teeter on the brink of chaos but never lose rhythm. He uses excess — run-ons, parenthetical intrusions, grotesque detail — not carelessly, but as a rhetorical stance: the voice itself becomes a symptom of the narrator’s mental state, performing his neurosis and his ‘cure’ simultaneously. The reader laughs even as the laughter starts to feel complicit, which is a hallmark of Levin’s strongest work.

“The first half of the story skewers psychiatry in a way that recalls Vonnegut or Joseph Heller: Frieda and Tim are absurdly rendered, but not without empathy. Frieda’s fall from authority (divorcing her husband to marry the patient’s girlfriend) is comic corruption; Tim’s polished charisma and ‘church bell laugh’ parody the smugness of modern ‘wellness’ culture.

“When Tim tells the narrator, ‘There’s nothing wrong with you,’ Levin nails the contemporary therapeutic cliché of radical self-acceptance — and then proceeds to detonate it. The supposed cure brings the narrator not peace but existential panic: stripped of his neuroses, he becomes exposed to the raw horror of mortality.

“The irony is complete: mental health, properly achieved, becomes intolerable.

“The story’s second half — the narrator’s ‘epiphany’ about guilt as a buffer against death terror — is a stunning inversion of Freud and Becker. It’s here that Levin transcends satire and moves into metaphysical argument:

“’We need to become absorbed in substitute, potentially rectifiable forms of guilt… since they palliate a deeper and more pressing issue, we are averse to fixing them.’

“This is a thesis disguised as breakdown: neurosis as evolutionary necessity. By reinterpreting guilt and shame not as pathology but as psychic defense mechanisms, Levin turns the therapeutic paradigm inside out. The passage is persuasive and horrifying in equal measure; it’s not merely a narrative, it’s a philosophical trap. The reader is forced to consider whether the narrator is deluded or whether he’s glimpsed an unbearable truth.

“Unmistakably Levin, the voice is confessional, sardonic, yet surprisingly lucid when it counts. The tone shifts from comic realism to metaphysical horror are without rupture. The pacing is masterful; the slow burn from satire to existential dread is seamless. The imagery — the grotesque boogers, vomit and masturbation rituals — functions symbolically, the body as battleground for psychic meaning. And the language is rich, rhythmic. occasionally overwrought — but deliberately so. Levin’s excess mirrors his subject’s instability.

“Levin isn’t attacking psychology per se, but the commodified promise of ‘healing.’ Echoing Nietzsche and Becker, he implies that neurosis, self-deception and delusion are vital coping systems. The narrator’s insight — ‘Mental health is the enemy’ — is both deranged and plausible, a final punchline that’s also a dirge. Levin is saying that we need to stay at least a little bit sick to survive.

“‘Against Mental Health’ is a brilliant fusion of satire, confession and philosophical essay that is stylistically distinctive — raucous, fearless and alive. It’s a scathing critique of the cult of self-optimization. It’s also darkly funny without ever losing moral or intellectual weight.

This story is among Levin’s finest and most fully realized works. It crystallizes his characteristic tensions — between the comic and the tragic, the vulgar and the philosophical, the personal and the universal — into a single sustained performance. What begins as parody ends as a bleakly luminous essay on the cost of consciousness itself.

“With this piece, Levin earns comparison to thinkers like Becker, Camus and Céline — but filtered through a distinctly New York, post-Freudian absurdism that’s entirely his own.” — Mark Mancall, Prof. Emeritus, Stanford University

“Levin’s jazz essays are some of his best work. He recalls concerts he attended as a young man in the 1960s, sharing the burgeoning sense that ‘a seismic change in human consciousness is both possible and imminent.’ His passion for this topic shows, and the essays are strong. I could see them standing alone as a small book of interest to a wide readership, but they are useful as included here too.” — Toni Woodruff, Independent Book Review

“‘The Killer’ is a brilliantly executed and deeply disturbing piece of short fiction. It is a compelling case study in existential horror, exploring the terrifying potential of a mind that perceives the raw mechanics of nature without the protective illusions of love, meaning or denial. Levin does not shy away from the darkest implications of this worldview, leading the reader to an inevitable and bloody conclusion.

“The story lingers, not for its graphic violence, but for the chilling plausibility of its narrator’s descent. It is a powerful, unsettling and masterfully written exploration of the abyss.” — Steven Fine, Northeastern University

“‘The Killer’ is a powerful story. I really dig how Levin uses the style/conventions of classic existential fiction (like ‘Notes from Underground’ and ‘Nausea’) to explore the contemporary spree killer phenomenon. It’s bleak, disturbing and insightful.”
— William H. Duryea

”Well written, ‘The Killer’ is an important and ambitious story, analyzing from the inside the mentality of a sociopathic nihilist.”
— Donald Webb

“‘Sex With a Very Large Woman’ is the funniest and rudest thing I’ve read in years, and ‘Dog Days’ is just extraordinary…original and disturbing.” — Tony Cook

“A writer from whom I always learn something.” — Nat Hentoff on Levin’s jazz writings

“Heavy and brilliant.” — Douglas Rushkoff on “Everything’s All Right in the Middle East”