Chad W. Post transforms a potentially frivolous exercise into a profound meditation on the mechanics of humor and the enduring relevance of Stanley Elkin's work. By inventing a nonsensical "Power Ranking" system to evaluate twelve novels, Post argues that the true value of literature lies not in rigid metrics, but in the specific, rhythmic joy of reading aloud. This approach offers busy listeners a unique entry point into a complex literary canon, proving that playfulness can be a serious critical tool.
The Architecture of Play
Post opens by disarming the reader with radical honesty about the absurdity of his project. He writes, "I can't come up with a better opening to what I plan on writing below than to say that everything that follows is likely to be pretty silly. Very silly." This admission is not a weakness; it is a strategic framing device that allows him to explore Elkin's unique narrative voice without the burden of academic pretension. The core of the argument is that Elkin's fiction, often dismissed as dense or overly verbose, is actually designed for the ear. Post notes that Elkin "writes to be read aloud, or at least voiced inside your head," using punctuation and italics as musical notation for the reader's internal monologue.
The commentary highlights how Post uses these "silly" metrics—such as counting italics on a specific page or measuring book length against a calculated average—to reveal structural truths about the author's craft. For instance, he points out that "The Rabbi of Lud" scored high on a metric for italics usage, which serves as a "critical part of Elkin's style." This is a brilliant move: by quantifying the unquantifiable, Post forces the reader to pay attention to the texture of the prose rather than just the plot. Critics might note that reducing a novel's worth to a point system is inherently reductive, yet Post leans into this irony, suggesting that the very act of ranking reveals more about the reader's personal connection to the text than any objective score ever could.
Elkin, for all of his literary chops, his "writer's writer" bonafides, is just a joy to read.
The Weight of the Cover and the Length of the Sentence
Post shifts his focus to the tangible aspects of the books, including their physical presentation and their structural pacing. He candidly critiques the design choices of the reprints, noting, "why so many white covers?" and admitting that a "bland cover" negatively impacted his personal ranking of "Van Gogh's Room at Arles." While this might seem superficial, it underscores a vital point about the reader's experience: the physical object is part of the narrative contract. He further complicates the discussion of length by introducing a "pages from the mean" metric, arguing that Elkin's average book length of roughly 320 pages represents a "perfect" calibration of his voice.
The analysis of "George Mills" serves as a pivot point in the commentary. Post acknowledges the novel's prestige, noting it won the National Book Critics Circle Award, yet he admits it feels "very long" compared to the "sharper" titles. He writes, "It's a wonderful book that just missed being in the top five," illustrating how even canonical works can be re-evaluated through the lens of personal rhythm and pacing. This section effectively demonstrates that a "power ranking" is less about declaring a winner and more about cataloging the diverse emotional landscapes Elkin created. The inclusion of "Boswell," his first novel, further supports the idea that Elkin's humor was present from the start, described as "the sort of funny that comes from a first novel in which you leave it all on the field."
The Unspoken Connection
Ultimately, the piece is driven by a genuine desire to connect with a contemporary audience, specifically through the work of Adam Levin. Post reveals that his motivation for this entire exercise was to secure a podcast conversation about Levin's "Mount Chicago," a novel that shares Elkin's DNA. He observes that Levin, like Elkin, excels at "comedy bits, rant and voice-driven tangents that are thrilling and laugh out loud funny." This connection bridges the gap between a mid-century literary giant and a modern voice, suggesting that the tradition of high-concept, voice-driven satire is alive and well.
The commentary concludes by emphasizing that the "Power Rankings" are a vehicle for rediscovery. Post admits, "I have the urge to talk about all of his books, and not just the two Essentials," highlighting the richness of Elkin's backlist that has recently been made available again. The piece argues that while the rankings are arbitrary, the act of rereading and re-evaluating is essential for keeping literature alive in the public consciousness.
Bottom Line
Post's "Power Rankings" succeed because they prioritize the visceral experience of reading over critical dogma, using humor to dismantle the barriers to entry for a challenging author. The argument's greatest strength is its refusal to take itself seriously, which paradoxically makes its insights into Elkin's style more credible. The only vulnerability is the potential for the metrics to distract from the deeper thematic currents of the novels, but Post's self-aware framing largely neutralizes this risk.