In 1988, the friend of the author was killed in a traffic accident caused by a drunk driver. Written in the aftermath, The Book of Imparting attempts to circumscribe the absence left behind by the beloved.
      The text is organized into a series of short sequences — in style situated between prose and poetry, story and diary-like fragment, reflection and dream — which both capture the past prior to the accident and chronicle the period afterward. Written in the third person singular and arranged around a reading of Andrew Marvell’s poem “The Definition of Love,” the book documents a labor of mourning, but also reflects on the interrelationship between love, language, and recollection. The tone is dry but elegant, precise yet searching, never succumbing to pathos, though open and aching alike. Aware of the futility in attempting to make the lost one present again by addressing her, thus confusing the person with her name, the narrator tries rather to maintain, describe, and finally comprehend the sensation of loss itself. This is an archaeology of the present, unfolding in close scrutiny of literary texts and personal reminiscences. Absence here acquires a tangible intensity, as it slowly seems to fuse with the narrator’s awareness that he will never be able to fathom what happened.
      Ultimately, the emblem of his labor remains the No of negation. Yet a no, too, makes something happen. In the best of cases, the narrator may recapture the moment of disappearance. The Book of Imparting contains the record of this experience.