In his last year of eligibility, Robert Anasi, age thirty-two, decided to fight in the Golden Gloves tournament, the premier event in amateur boxing. The gym becomes a way of life, he explains, and so it does for the reader, as Anasi ushers us into the world of training and competition, of friendly rivalry, of artistry and violence. He tells his story not as a journalist on assignment but as a man in the midst of one of the great adventures of his life, and in his hands a dying blood sport is reincarnated as a metaphor for redemption under flawed circumstances (Nita Rao,The Village Voice).
Robert Anasihas boxed in San Francisco and Munich as well as in the Golden Gloves Tournament. He lives by the East River in the warehouse district of Williamsburg, Brooklyn.
A dying blook sport is reincarnated as a metaphor for redemption under flawed circumstances. Nita Rao, The Village Voice
Robert Anasi . . . can turn a phrase as clean as a neatly wrapped fist. Stephanie Zacharek, Newsday
As gripping as any Arctic chronicle . . . As the author's boxing skills increase he turns his attention to his sparring partners and fellow gym rats . . . and makes a rough lyric out of their hard lives. The New Yorker
[A book] as good as any I've read about the sport. George Plimpton