Some Words

Today, I finshed Absurdistan, a novel by Gary Shteyngart. It got a lot of good press last year, and having asked for it, I was kindly rewarded with a copy of it over the holidays. December is a magical month that way.

Note: I once wrote a review, in which I became so obsessed with the merits and flaws of the novel, that I forgot to give a plot outline. The editor rightly lambasted me for this, it was unimaginably careless. I’m going to do that again right now. There are other places where you can read full reviews of Absurdistan. I’m going to assume that if you haven’t read the novel, you’ve read one of those. I’m not writing a full review of this here. There’s a link to the n+1 review partway through, go ahead and read that. These are just my impressions and musings.

I’m not entirely sure how I feel about Absurdistan. I just caught an interview with Mr. Shteyngart over at Modern Drunkard (he’s been everywhere in the media, the latest Studio 360 podcast has him too) and it was at least mildly illuminating. The book was a fun read. There were moments where it was laugh out loud funny, there were moments when it was unexpectedly poigniant. It also pulls off the surprisingly rare trick of ending well. It may be one of the best ended novels I’ve read in the past year. Shteyngart (And let us sidetrack a moment, I am slightly drunk, and have just had to edit the entire post to end his name with a ‘t’. Go me.) leaves loose ends, but instead of letting them be a problem, he reclaims them. I was very impressed by that.

Which is all not to say that there weren’t flaws. One of the characters is a naked and self deprecating standing for the author, at least in name and history. That’s a little bit of fiction that has become frustrating for me to read. I sometimes feel that authors will do that in the hopes of being called Nabakovian. Oh, look, he’s got a standing for himself, how meta… At least he makes his standin an important part of the plot, instead of walking on stage, mugging to the audience and walking off again, full of smug assurance of narrative skill. Still, the wikipedia article says that he’s working on a new novel based on the standin character. Say it ain’t so Gary! That’s like holding up a big sign with neon lettering that says, “I have nothing more to say.” Until I see the press for the book, I’m going to hope that this was really caused by him messing with an interviewer.

In the interview I linked, Shteyngart wonders aloud if anyone will still be reading him in a decade. His talent makes me want to say yes, but there is a lot of cultural reference in the novel, and something tells me it won’t all age well. If some of the things he’s making fun of fall by the cultural wayside, will it still seem quite as pointed. This is a risk that all writers must take to some degree, but some culture is more stable than others. How many people are going to remember “Ass ‘n Titties” by DJ Assault then? Will that joke still be funny if you don’t know it’s a real song? I suppose I’ll have to wait to see on that front. The reviewer for n+1 notes a few more flaws, and better than I will, so you to that, if you want to read it. It’s fun and it’s fast, but I didn’t exactly come out different on the other side. Then again Shteyngart might not have been trying for that. Not every book has to. I’m reading Leave it to Psmith now, and I’m sure it won’t.

Unrelated to the actual quality of the book is the fact that Mr. Shteyngart went to Oberlin, as a few friends of mine did. This wouldn’t be worth mentioning, but I felt that there was at least one spot (well, one that I caught) that draws from Oberlin quite directly, and here I’m thinking of Safer Sex Night, and the stories I heard about that little wonder of a party that isn’t in the promotional material the parents see.

Also Shteynegard manages to be Jewish and write about sex, without coming off as overly neurotic, dysfunctional, or prudish. One of my little self perpetuating stereotypes of my fellow Jews was that this just didn’t happen. I know I get terribly embarrassed talking about sex in public, and I’m not even talking about an interview. Then I saw this interview with Neil Gaiman in which he manages to talk about pornography without sounding awkward, and he’s British as well as Jewish. These guys have now both said or written things that I have honestly thought, “But what will your parents say?!?!” when I read them. I suddenly feel a prude.

Oh, and totally out of the blue, because I’m talking about writers, and I read Bookslut, they pointed out a great little answer to a question posed of Neal Pollack.