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Roy Lotz's Reviews > This Is How You Lose Her
This Is How You Lose Her
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My friends sometimes ask me why I don’t read more contemporary fiction, and my reaction to this book is a good illustration of the reason. On a purely superficial level, I don’t like the style. Díaz’s prose is punchy and energetic; but its energy reminds me of how CGI is abused in contemporary films—an added dose of color and dazzle that attempts to make up for a lack of substance. I felt as though he was constantly trying to maintain my attention, with a punchline, a striking image, a vulgarity, rather than trusting in the patience of the reader.
The theme of this short-story collection is masculine infidelity. In Díaz’s world this is caused by an inability to see women as anything but sexual objects. The protagonist of all the stories but one, Yunior, is (along with his brother and father) a serial philanderer. Though Yunior has his share of longing and vulnerability, the main reason for his cheating seems to be cultural training. In any case, this understandably gets him into trouble and makes him miserable, as he undermines his every relationship.
I admit that the struggles of a young man to stop making obviously bad decisions that hurt people did not strike a chord in me. This was especially true since he does not spend much time in contemplating how it must feel from the other side of infidelity. And though he does appear to show some signs of growth by the final story, this growth is notably not any substantial increase in empathy. In any case, I found the exposition monotonous and predictable: the exhilaration of forbidden sex followed by the disappointment of getting caught.
Two stories stand out as exceptions. “Otravida, Otravez” is refreshing in its viewing infidelity from another angle, as a woman who is in a relationship with a married man. “Invierno,” which is about Yunior’s move from the Dominican Republic to New Jersey, is also exceptional in its considerations of how past and future infidelity—Yunior's father, this time—affect Yunior’s family and childhood.
These stories aside, I admit that I did not sympathize with Yunior and his obsessive focus on relationships—past and current, failed and failing. But I did finish this book very quickly, reading most of it in one setting, which means it cannot be all bad. Indeed, it can be very entertaining—like verbal CGI.
The theme of this short-story collection is masculine infidelity. In Díaz’s world this is caused by an inability to see women as anything but sexual objects. The protagonist of all the stories but one, Yunior, is (along with his brother and father) a serial philanderer. Though Yunior has his share of longing and vulnerability, the main reason for his cheating seems to be cultural training. In any case, this understandably gets him into trouble and makes him miserable, as he undermines his every relationship.
I admit that the struggles of a young man to stop making obviously bad decisions that hurt people did not strike a chord in me. This was especially true since he does not spend much time in contemplating how it must feel from the other side of infidelity. And though he does appear to show some signs of growth by the final story, this growth is notably not any substantial increase in empathy. In any case, I found the exposition monotonous and predictable: the exhilaration of forbidden sex followed by the disappointment of getting caught.
Two stories stand out as exceptions. “Otravida, Otravez” is refreshing in its viewing infidelity from another angle, as a woman who is in a relationship with a married man. “Invierno,” which is about Yunior’s move from the Dominican Republic to New Jersey, is also exceptional in its considerations of how past and future infidelity—Yunior's father, this time—affect Yunior’s family and childhood.
These stories aside, I admit that I did not sympathize with Yunior and his obsessive focus on relationships—past and current, failed and failing. But I did finish this book very quickly, reading most of it in one setting, which means it cannot be all bad. Indeed, it can be very entertaining—like verbal CGI.
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Reading Progress
Started Reading
January 7, 2018
–
Finished Reading
January 8, 2018
– Shelved
January 8, 2018
– Shelved as:
americana
January 8, 2018
– Shelved as:
novels-novellas-short-stories
Comments Showing 1-13 of 13 (13 new)
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Fergus, Quondam Happy Face
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Jan 09, 2018 06:36AM
Thanks, Roy. Your discretion is admirable. Modern life is an ethical morass, to say the least.
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This just reconfirms my lack of desire to read more Diaz. I lead a group read of Oscar Wao, which was a treat unto itself with some readers complete lack of cultural or intellectual curiosity, but while stylized and glib, were it not for the minor pain of the group read, I likely would have forgotten I'd read the book at all.
I agree that insecurity is the curse of much modern writing: a fear of being boring, a fear of being unhip, a fear of being weird (more weird than the Designated Quantum of Quirk required from all modern writing, of course). It leads to writing that on the surface is imaginative and edgy and challenging... but that always imagines, edges and challenges in the same predictable ways, again and again.I also share some frustration over how many stories - verbal or visual - revolve around supposedly 'sympathetic' characters behaving like total arseholes and making really stupid decisions... and this being presented as normal.
I mean, there can be good stories about arseholes, and good stories about idiots, and good stories about addicts. But they tend to work by treating these characters as pathological, asking where those pathologies come from and how they may be addressed - not by assuming that everybody is like that and it's endearingly 'human'! It's the rare story failure that actually makes me like the creator less - not just for what it seems to say about them, but what it seems to say about how they see the world. It's like Morrissey's quote from a few months ago about sexual harassment - that he obviously didn't condone the behaviour of Weinstein, etc, but that if you jailed everybody who'd had nonconsensual sex with children, surely there'd be nobody left. It's just... even if he's genuinely not talking about himself, what the hell world does he think he's living in where he thinks that's normal!? And likewise, when I read a book or watch a TV show where men constantly cheat on their girlfriends and women stab their best friends in the back for a little male approval and so on, and it's all seemingly just because the characters are "just being human", I think... what the hell world do you think you're living in? Because it certainly doesn't bear any relationship to the world I see around me (where, of course, such things do happen now and then, but they're exceptions rather than the norm).
Honestly, from American TV, you'd think that everybody in America was an amoral, drug-addicted narcissist with serious undiagnosed depression and self-hatred that led them to constantly sabotage their own successes for no rational reason. Fortunately, I think this is actually probably more true of the subworlds inhabited by novelists and screenplay writers than of the general public...
Good comments. But isn't culture like this because of the Big Sell mentality? Gillies Deleuze wrote an incredibly insightful book about that - though a little too far-out for me even now, though it makes sense in small doses. Its title was ANTI-OEDIPUS. It's a sixties book about how the Big Sell fosters a kind of cultural sexual schizophrenia, which can be found nowhere else in history except in our postmodern times. The English translation and e-book version are now widely available. Deleuze helped me grasp a lot of key things about these crazy times!
Fergus wrote: "Good comments. But isn't culture like this because of the Big Sell mentality? Gillies Deleuze wrote an incredibly insightful book about that - though a little too far-out for me even now, though it..."Sorry. GILLES, not "Gillies"!
Rita wrote: "Sigh.I’m very careful when it comes to selecting contemporary fiction to read. This review further encourages my cautiousness. There is always something lacking in contemporary fiction: perhaps i..."
I like three page descriptions of how someone simply sits. What I always miss in contemporary books, fiction and sometimes nonfiction, is that they don't give space for the writing to breathe. It's like they are writing for goldfish.
Wastrel wrote: "I agree that insecurity is the curse of much modern writing: a fear of being boring, a fear of being unhip, a fear of being weird (more weird than the Designated Quantum of Quirk required from all ..."I completely agree with you about the supposition of universally bad behavior. I suppose it's just a cheap way to make stories more exciting. Clearly it strikes some kind of a chord in many people, considering that these stories sell well.
Boy, I like that one, Roy: : "give space for the writing to breathe"! That is SO true. I had never thought of it quite like that. Give up your OWN space for a few minutes - and what a new universe you will discover! Get involved in the book! LIVE it!
I feel similarly about contemporary fiction. And that staccato is like zapping.
Kalliope wrote: "I feel similarly about contemporary fiction. And that staccato is like zapping.""Zapping" is an excellent description.
Great review Roy. I remember reading this and feeling like I had just eaten a meal, but I was still hungry. I think you've dialed in on the problem, at least for me!
Christopher wrote: "Great review Roy. I remember reading this and feeling like I had just eaten a meal, but I was still hungry. I think you've dialed in on the problem, at least for me!"That's a great analogy!
