In Book and Magazine Profile, Views Into Djokovic's World Heading into his second-round match against Benjamin Becker on Friday afternoon, top-ranked Novak Djokovic has been on court for only 1 hour 22 minutes at the United States Open. But he has remained in the headlines this week. Writing an autobiography (or, more precisely, co-writing one) is a rite of passage for tennis players who achieve a certain magnitude of celebrity. Last week, Djokovic joined the likes of Andre Agassi, Pete Sampras, Monica Seles, Jimmy Connors, Rafael Nadal and James Blake by releasing his first book. Unlike the others, Djokovic, with William Davis, has written a book that integrates the traditional account of a rise to stardom with a diet plan, including recipes. The Janus of professional tennis, Djokovic has long been recognized as possessing two sides: one is an imperious, steely competitor, one of the most complete players the game has ever produced, and a generous, magnanimous sportsman. As far back as 2007, when he was 19, he was described as "the perfect player" by Peter Bodo of Tennis magazine. Djokovic's frustrating other side, much more in evidence before 2011, suffered from inexplicable breathing problems, sudden retirements, and occasional spells of disengagement and disinterest. At times, he seemed tortured, bearing an uncanny resemblance to Travis Bickle. Robert De Niro, perhaps noticing the similarity, was in Djokovic's box during his first United States Open final. In most tennis stories, there is a conversion moment, usually resulting in a monk-ish commitment to fitness. As is well known, the conversion for Djokovic came when he gave up gluten. "Serve to Win: The 14 Day Gluten-Free Plan for Physical and Mental Excellence" tells the story of how Djokovic found his new regime. A Serbian doctor, Igor Cetojevic, happened to being watching Djokovic on television, saw his struggles, and surmised they came from digestive issues. He got in touch through a mutual friend, offering to help. Cetojevic diagnosed Djokovic by asking him to lie down and resist downward pressure on his extended arm, with and without a piece of bread placed on his stomach. Djokovic felt much less strength in the presence of the bread - proof, to Cetojevic, of his gluten intolerance. Cetojevic recommended giving up all wheat, sugar and caffeine. Once Djokovic began to follow the new diet, the book recounts, his troubles magically came to an end. Eighteen months later, he had recorded one of the Open era's greatest seasons, winning 62 of 64 matches, taking home three Grand Slam trophies, and rising to the top ranking. Whether going gluten-free was a miracle cure or more akin to a feather that convinces a baby elephant he can fly is a matter for debate. Andy Murray said he tried a gluten-free diet but gave up, feeling enervated. The culinary traditionalist Rafael Nadal said: "Now it seems the gluten-free diet is great. After three years or four years, we will find another thing that will be great, too. Then the gluten-free diet will not work anymore. Nadal, who has written about his love of cooking seafood pastas, added, "All these kinds of things that are news, I am not doing." Federer, asked Tuesday what he thought about gluten-free diets, joked, "Oh, no, I have extra gluten." In addition to his new book, Djokovic is the subject of a profile by Lauren Collins in The New Yorker this week. In it, Collins shows Djokovic is a believer in many things, old and new, including the Serbian Orthodox Church. After a turbulent childhood in war-time Serbia, he seems to seek solace in religious practices. Of a pilgrimage he made to a Greek monastery in 2009, Djokovic said, "The only thing we did is pray all day, walk around, do some maintenance, and eat twice a day, at 6 a.m. and 6 p.m. It makes you go back to your roots and back to yourself. Djokovic, Collins wrote, "can be the idiot, but he is also the savant, a self-aware self-improver fascinated by the workings of the human psyche. He seeks enlightenment with the same-broadmindedness that he applied to getting in shape. She added: "He does not see a regular psychologist, but he incorporates elements of philosophy, positive thinking, inspirational speaking, animism, and meditation into his routine." Collins's piece attempts to resolve the two facets of Djokovic into one picture. He emerges as an anxious perfectionist whose beliefs, and the self-denial they counsel, help him manage his emotions and stay engaged; his animism, a form of self-enchantment, staves off troubling doubts.