How I spent my summer: hungover on the porch accruing overdue fines. Actually I worked too much and sort of got paid to write this:
"Super Sad True Love Story came out three years ago; I'm a bit late to the game because if you're going to jump on every new 'triumphant'/ 'genius'/ 'great American novelist under 40' you'd have to quit your job and take your lawn chair to the desert. Take a mini-retirement with Story: if you've ever felt weird about the ubiquity of social media, growing class disparity or corporate takeover, you'll forget about your Instagram and your weekend plans the minute you open the book.
Our protagonist in a dystopic New York, Lenny, is a lovable loser who sells immortality to High Net Worth Individuals and vies for the affection of a troubled younger woman who refers to him as Tuna Brain. The satire is pointed and brilliant; books are 'nonstreaming Media artifacts', dollars are pegged to the yuan, women wear transparent jeans and people speak in elaborate acronyms (Shteyngart joked in interviews that the book is set 'next Tuesday'). About twelve pages in, Shteyngart's uncanny ability to assume the voices of twenty-four year old women, aging immigrants and other lost citizens of his dystopic New York convinced me that he is a shape-shifting sorcerer. All too aware of the declining cultural value of literature, Shteyngart has created a nonstreaming Media artifact that's both brutally funny and sad, and that I devoured in a weekend while dreading the last page the entire time. If you don't laugh and at least almost cry, come visit me in the desert and we can talk about it."