Susan Palmer's Exquisite Now

About halfway through author Rick Levin’s novel “Off Route,” I found myself muttering, “Pick a lane, dude.”

But not in a bad way. More in a “what the hell kind of story is this?” way. There’s no knowing what’s coming around the next narrative bend. But Levin’s voice is so real, so comfortable in its own articulations that another part of my brain shrugged and said: “Strap in, honey. This could be good.”

Bottom line? I’m glad I rode along. It’s OK with me that Levin uses many big words. Here’s an example: “In capitalism, ontogeny capitulates phylogeny.” Might as well be Latin. And I say that after looking it up. But Levin also deploys many excellent small words. As in: “I try to be kind. It’s a world of small gestures. It’s going to have to be from here on out. The consolation of small gestures.” Because this story is about a guy who is a bus driver, and because Rick Levin is, himself, a bus driver when not writing, I think if anybody has a right to offer up human wisdom about small gestures and love, it’d be him.

I found this book to be wondrous, full of beautiful, painful, gorgeous anecdotes. They are gemlike, sparkling with a tenderness that lingers in the heart. I’m glossing over the anger in Off Route. Please don’t think it puts a spit shine on reality. It doesn’t. But it does remind me that beauty can sometimes be an in-breath and an out-breath away.

I know Levin’s work from his days as a journalist. I had deep knowledge about a profile he wrote for the Eugene Weekly several years ago. It was thorough and factual. I thought he was somebody who paid attention, who understood what he was reporting about and who reported with heart. Factually and with heart.

Let Off Route come to you in its own way. You will be enriched.