Super Sad True Love Story, Gary Shteyngart

Cover illustration for Super Sad True Love Story by Gary ShteyngartI’ve finished it–the Super Sad True Love Story. And it only took me four months. I started this great (but grating) satire back in September. I waded through the first half over the course of about two weeks, and then abandoned it for, well, everything else I’ve written about here. I just picked it back up again. Luckily, according to the experts, “it’s the sort of riff-based novel that does particularly well in bite-size pieces.” While this probably isn’t exactly what Ron Charles had in mind, I finished it, and am writing about it, and that’s it.

Set in an only slightly futuristic New York city (like maybe ten years from now), Super Sad True Love Story follows the middle aged, middle income Lenny Abramov through a painfully sentimental romance with beautiful but troubled 24-year-old Eunice Park. The couple meets for one night only in Rome, where Lenny is coming to the end of a year long business trip, unsuccessfully hawking nanotechnology-based youth enhancement to HNWIs (High Net Worth Individuals) and Eunice is indulging in a little post-college travel. Lenny falls instantly, deliriously, pathetically in love; Eunice is bored, but willing enough. The the two reunite in Manhattan through the combined pressure of Lenny’s eagerness to see Eunice again, and Eunice’s need for a rent-free place to stay.

The novel is epistolary in style, told through Lenny’s outmoded journal entries and Eunice’s slang-filled emails, chats and “teens” (facebook, in effect). It deals primarily with their relationship (which is sad, in more ways than one), but also with the social tensions that surround them: the impending visit of the Chinese central banker, the encampments of homeless protesters and returning veterans, the armed guards who monitor travel between the burrows, the private armies retained by corporations.

Shteyngart’s not-to-distant future is a corporate oligarchy driven by mass consumerism and credit, and populated by such financial monoliths as LandO’LakesGMFordCredit and AlliedWasteCVSCitigroupCredit. The American dollar is pegged to the Yuen and the “Governor of the People’s Bank of China-Worldwide” is “unofficially the world’s most powerful man.” American is run by the Bipartisan Party, and all government messages include an “apply and deny” clause: “By reading this message your are denying its existence and implying consent.” Service people are veterans, not of Iraq and Afghanistan, but of some equally ill-fated Venezuelan conflict. The entire populace carries iPhone-like mini computers called “apparats” which broadcast credit score and “fuckability” ratings, stream one-man-show-style reality-TV-esque video rants (which have apparently taken the place of both news and drama), and offer the opportunity to shop at such trendy stores as AssLuxury, JuicyPussy and Onionskin (where they sell translucent jeans). Books (irony of ironies, considering I paid $9.00 for the Kindle edition of this one) are valueless.

Critic Laura Miller argues that with Super Sad True Love Story Shteyngart offers readers a kinder, gentler satire. Indeed, the author seems to have great empathy for his characters, despite their flaws, and he’s put in the effort to make them real and well-rounded, not merely the cardboard cutouts that populate so many satires. Eunice is convincingly complex. Like many 20-something college grads, she’s drifting, caught between her desire to do something and her own crippling lack of confidence; her love for her Korean immigrant family, and the pain inflicted by her abusive father; her shallow shopping-based socialization and her impulse to help the homeless protesters in living in the park; her affection for Lenny, and her sense of his inadequacy and strangeness. Lenny, likewise, is a fully fleshed character, and, even more remarkably, one who is capable of change.

I began the book feeling that, while it might be easy to sympathize with and even pity Shteyngart’s characters, it would be impossible to actually like them. But, about 3/4 of the way through, I did find myself liking them. I was even anxious about what might happen to them. What started out as a slightly irritating slog had somehow sneaked into my good graces.

Super Sad True Love Story is a good book–a surprisingly good book–but, like the consumerist pop culture it mocks, it may drive you just a little nuts.

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