I’m not sure when I first became aware of this book, but I bought it over a decade ago, before I met my wife. Before I had much of a life to speak of. Recently separated and having lost a fairly good job in the midst of what felt like a pretty terrible economic meltdown, I was going through my own little existential crisis. Working two jobs that weren’t really sufficient, I was struggling to find myself – to find meaning and purpose, a sense of identity.
I picked this book up, probably because it had “Winner of the Pulitzer Prize” emblazoned across the cover. Not knowing who I was going to be amidst this unknown sea of change I found myself adrift in, I probably thought “reader of literary fiction” was as safe a harbor as anything else. I don’t know. I do remember, however, liking the two chapters I read. Oscar Wao was an overweight nerd. I, too, was an overweight nerd as a teenager. Until my mom told me that I needed to wear “husky-sized pants”, at any rate. That sent me into an eating disorder for a few years, and resulted in my entering college under-sized for my frame. But I suppose that’s not really relevant to this book.
Anyway. I was driving my dad’s old 2002 Ford Ranger, and the weatherstripping around the windshield had a lea. This was a fact I didn’t realize until a deluge at work one day resulted in this book becoming water-laden, swelling it beyond its normal proportions and becoming so aesthetically unpleasing to me that I put the book down, lost it, and never thought to pick it up again. Until, that is, I was perusing Libby recently and saw that it was available.
I have mixed feelings about this novel. I think it was well-written, and I found the story gripping – but it kind of rubbed me the wrong way. For starters, there’s a forced machismo in this book that led to me setting it down a few times in frustration. One of the main characters, Yunior, is a the some time boyfriend of Oscar’s sister Lola, and ends up being his roommate in college. Superficially, he and Oscar have little in common apart from writing, and Yunior doesn’t really even seem to like him for much of the book. But, then again, no one really likes Oscar. But Yunior is the narrator, so we’re kind of stuck with him. I discovered after finishing the book that Yunior is kind of an alter ego of the writer, Junot Diaz, and has been used in other stories of his.
Oscar is morbidly obese Dominican growing up in New Jersey. He loves fantasy novels, dreams of being a writer, and is pathologically incapable of having sex with a woman – something Yunior swears is impossible for Dominican men. Sex permeates this story, which makes sense given that it’s about a teenage boy, from the perspective of a young man obsessed with sex. But it very much feels like someone who just discovered sex, and wants everyone to know it. Which, like veganism, yoga, and CrossFit, is usually the kind of thing that is insufferable to listen regardless of how rewarding it may be, personally.
And that was my biggest problem. Yunior wants everyone to know how much his life revolves around sex, and how little sex Oscar is getting and it’s just….I don’t care. This isn’t a bodice ripper. It’s some over-sexed dude wanting everyone to know how much he gets around. It’s very male-gazey, which can be pretty weird when two of the most important characters here are Oscar’s mom (whose defining character trait is her incredible breasts) and Lola. If you read the Wikipedia page or other pages that delve into the literary themes and motifs of the novel, it’s possible there’s an intent here that goes beyond shallow misogyny. I know enough to know that I’m not a particularly deep reader, and reading some analysis after finishing the book, I can hear the ring of truth there – but it kind of escaped me at the time.
At the end of it all, I found this to be an engaging book, and I found Diaz to be a good writer, overall, but I also felt his writing was a little forced. If Yunior really is an alter ego of Diaz, then it makes sense that Oscar’s love for science fiction and fantasy is a bit alien to the author, because the referential style of the writing did not feel natural at all. Oscar felt more like a literary creation meant to embody “nerdiness” rather than a kid who likes Dungeons and Dragons and Robert Heinlein. As such, I appreciated him more as a literary figure than I did an actual character.
It’s a good book, I think. And as an exploration of Dominican culture and history I found it both rich and heartfelt. I can respect what Junot Diaz did, here, and think it was not only memorable, but well worth revisiting after my initial failed attempt. But I also think it’s not without its flaws.
And, given the problems I had with the novel, it’s worth mentioning that Junot Diaz was part of the #MeToo movement a few years ago, being accused of inappropriately kissing a fellow author, and verbally abusing several women.