Sam Lipsyte may be the funniest novelist in America, especially if you're a bitter, disappointed middle-aged man riddled with nostalgia for when the future meant great things and promise wasn't a dirty word and you've come to the conclusion that this it and this is all it'll ever be. The Ask is the newest one, and the first 150 pages are maddeningly hilarious- maddening only if you fancy yourself a barstool wit and you're confronted with your daddy. But this falls in that category the Elizabethans called a merry-go-sorry, for as we all know, middle-aged despair is only funny for so long. So if you're up for half a novel of caustic verbal dexterity followed by rapidly increasing sadness (no, it's not your memoir), dig right in. No, don't ask about the plot- this is social realism by failed family. Go read Richard Price if you want your socioeconomic boxes checked off. But, in a literary era still sucking multi culti's sagging tits, it's refreshing to read a guy who lists the Dwarves in his inspirational bands section. And before your blood boils too high on the jealousy meter, note the author photo that makes the 41-year old Lipsyte look like a retired mortgage broker summering in Concord. I give The Ask 4 1/2 stars, because laughing at your pathetic self is still a necessary part of grieving for your failed promise.
No comments:
Post a Comment