A review by johndiconsiglio
A Sport and a Pastime by James Salter

You always remember your first time…reading Salter’s much beloved 1967 erotic classic. (What did you think I meant?) His publisher complained that the novel had “more than the normal amount of sex.” Strange then that the mismatched (& explicit) Paris lovers—a callow Yale dropout adrift in Europe & a young French shopgirl—are less intriguing today than the monumentally unreliable (& sorta creepy) narrator. The years haven’t put out this fire.