Man to Man: Brian Devido's Every Time I Talk to Liston‪.‬

Brian DeVido's well-received first novel adheres to the boxing story formula that we are all too familiar with in fiction and film, a squared circle variant of Horatio Alger's rags-to-riches paradigm. An impoverished and obscure lad, albeit one with a sterling moral foundation, rises through determination, asceticism, and lucky breaks--under the tutelage of a wise yet stem mentor--to fight for a world championship, heavyweight division of course. Rocky is the gold standard of its ilk in film, while W.C. Heinz's The Professional might serve as the prototype novel. However, what sets Every Time I Talk to Liston apart are DeVido's cunning variants to the expected pattern, his subtle twists and inversions of the pattern's hackneyed elements, even though all elements result in redemption for not only the narrator, Amos "Scrap Iron" Fletcher, but also for a number of other characters both living or, as in the case of Sonny Liston, dead. But this novel has to do with more than redemption. Among its pleasures are its exploration of manhood and masculiniW and its representation of the boxing world as a microcosm of American society. Through the course of the novel, DeVido redefines manhood as Amos Fletcher becomes a kinder, gentler person with no loss of the traditional macho associated with boxers. As first person narrator and major character, Amos "Scrap Iron" Fletcher establishes his ethos immediately after the fashion of Nick Carraway in The Great Gatsby. A heavyweight also-ran in his boxing career with a 32-11 record (2), Fletcher makes his living as a sparring partner and occasional undercard fighter, destined for the roles of manager/trainer. His ring savvy makes him an attractive sparring partner, but his 36-year-old body sends him a clear message that he best retire, especially after his loss to the young challenger "Rocket" Richards. Readers learn that Amos is an astute student of the so-called "sweet science" since he lets us in on the nuances of boxing styles. Further, Amos is a boxing historian and lifelong fan of the sport, not just of Liston although Liston-lore predominates. Amos will cite fights and fighters from the late Nineteenth Century to the present and in all divisions, providing readers with almost a synoptic tour of the Boxing Hall of Fame-located in my hometown, Canastota, NY. So Amos possesses knowledge and perspective that outlast his eroding physical skills, making him a "natural" to continue his life in the game by mentoring younger fighters. As in other sports, often the less than stellar performers make the best coaches and managers. Adding to Amos's likeability quotient for readers are his stand-up qualities of integrity, honor, discipline, and seriousness. Even his weaknesses are comic and endearing, his perception of himself as the next George Foreman color clone for HBO or CNN, and his occasional romps with willing Vegas strippers or visiting New York Stock Exchange women brokers who flash their NYSE seat badges and HIV-free affidavits as credentials.