Campaign for the American Reader: Pg. 69: "The Art of Losing"

Keith Dixon is an editor for the New York Times. Ghostfires, his first novel, was named one of the five best first novels of 2004 by Poets & Writers magazine.

His new novel, The Art of Losing, releases later this month.

I asked Keith to apply the "page 69 test" to his book. Here is what he reported:

I think the mark of any great book is a consistency of tone and quality, a sense that the writer is in full control of his craft at every step, and for that reason I was immediately intrigued by Marshal’s pg 69 test. What was on page 69 of my novel, and would it pass the consistency test? I was surprised, and very pleased, by what I found.

In The Art of Losing, we meet Michael Jacobs, an obscure New York City filmmaker who has wearied of the slog toward commercial success. He’s turned toward the hunt for a quick buck by his friend and producer, Sebby Laslo—Laslo knows a corrupt jockey and wants to fix a horse race, but with his gambling debts mounting he needs Jacobs to act as the face of the operation.

For a short while Jacobs resists taking part in Laslo’s plan: he’s far too cautious and cowed by the threat of violence (from the bookmakers) and further debt (from the bank); page 69, however, captures the crucial moment, the actual instant, that causes Jacobs to relent. A woman, of course is involved: in this case, Beck Trier, a Danish filmmaker Jacobs has adored from a distance for eight years. Why hasn’t he ever made his move? Because he’s broke. Flat broke, his credit card taken away, and his bank account dwindling badly. On page 69 he’s out for drinks with Beck, accompanied by Wendy Blake, an arrogant chef-friend and his two friends, a newly-engaged couple named Reina and Otso.

The drinks were initially to be paid for by Beck, as a thank-you for Jacobs’ help in editing her latest film. But Wendy insists that the men should order a lavish dinner for all, and won’t take no for an answer. When the bill comes, Jacobs is forced to acknowledge, to his utter humiliation, that he hasn’t even the means to buy Beck, or himself, dinner. It’s this humiliation that goads him—on page 70—to walk straight home and call Laslo, and tell him that he’s in. And from that point on, the book is on rails.

Here’s page 69, exactly as it appears on the page. Hope you like it:

. . . closed-out credit card and had exhausted the goodwill of the bank.

We had a very nice dinner that was privately spoiled for me by the approaching check. I waited for Beck to excuse herself from the table so I could tell Wendy I couldn’t cover the bill, but she never left. Eventually, Wendy snapped his fingers at the waiter—only a chef would have the nerve—and made a writing sign in the air. Two minutes later she dropped the bill before Wendy. He picked it up and frowned at the numbers printed there.

‘You want to give me cash, Mike?’ he asked, still reading the bill.

Reina was showing Beck her engagement ring and explaining the elaborate manner in which Otso had given it to her.

‘I haven’t got it, Wendy,’ I said. ‘All I have is a twenty-dollar bill.’

‘You want to just use your card?’

‘Wendy,’ I said, ‘I mean I haven’t got it.’

You’d think I had told him my mother had died, the look that he gave me. I tried to give him the twenty, but he wouldn’t take it.

While Otso and Reina were saying goodbye to Beck, he leaned down close.

‘I’m sorry, Mike,’ Wendy said. ‘I didn’t know.’

‘I’m the one who’s sorry.’

Oh Jacobs—you don’t know how sorry you’re going to be. Because things are going to get a whole lot worse before they get better.

Many thanks to Keith for the input.

Among the advance praise for The Art of Losing:

“The Art of Losing is a cool, elegant ride into the kind of trouble that forces a character to learn who he really is, for better or worse. Like James M. Cain, Keith Dixon knows what the ancient Greeks knew so well—it's not the external demons that should be most feared, but those carried within. Smart, quick, potent noir.”
—Daniel Woodrell, author of Winter’s Bone and The Death of Sweet Mister

"Keith Dixon writes some of the sharpest, crispest prose you'll find anywhere. The Art of Losing is a fast-paced novel with a dark vision-its protagonist, Mike, a young filmmaker, feels indebted to an older friend who is an addictive gambler, but Mike is the one who keeps betting on the long odds, while ignoring the real chances offered to him by those he loves. Dixon reminds us of how misplaced pride makes fools of us all. A fine second novel from a writer with talent to burn."
—Tony Eprile, author of The Persistence of Memory