As soon as you start thinking about the beginning, it's the end.
Junot Díaz, This Is How You Lose Her, 2012
The beginning of the new year brought with it a number of compelling aspirations for me; as new years usually do for bright-eyed, naive youngsters such as myself. 2021 would be the year I read a story about love. Not to be confused with a love story, I’ve breathed vicariously through the peaks and tribulations of the Bella Swans and Katniss Everdeens, stories which of course attempt to camouflage romance as fast-paced drama. I mean no disrespect to novelists who use these common drama-romance tropes. They work, and if anything bring to light a narrative structure which has become deeply entrenched in identity for the late 90′s generation. I could have also turned to Brontë and Austen but for the start of the year I wished for something a little lighter. And that’s what I got... kind of.
This Is How You Lose Her in title garners instant uncertainty: there is a story unfolding before you even read the first page. Who is she, How has she been lost, Why do certain actions spark particular outcomes. Yunior struggles through not only romantic, but familial and community relationships. In addition (and what I find most interesting) is Yunior experiences a constant state of internal unrest, which fuels and nurtures the smokey blaze of his life, which is quenched and reignited time and time again.
The format of Díaz’s work lends well to the idea of premature endings. Short stories give the reader just the right amount of happiness and heartbreak; while you’re chewing over how Yunior saw himself at this point it’s already the final page. There is something hypnotizing about a story which leaves you wanting more, left in the world of the protagonist and fully invested in their outcome. In my younger years I would have been furious at an author for leaving a character so unfinished, raw, imperfect. But as you live through Yunior’s experiences every small conquest and feat is magnified. You’re cheering for him, all the while knowing there will be another blunder in the chapter to come. In every short story there is a sense of starting over, wherein Yunior tries his luck in love again only to come out in the same place he started. Older and wiser? It’s hard to tell, but the beauty is the hope which Díaz so perfectly cultivates. The unarranged nature of the book’s format blurs where one story ends and another begins; and maybe this is the point. As soon as you start to understand the character Díaz pulls you back to a point before or even many lives after, so that the reader transcends time and space. It’s in this way This Is How You Lose Her challenges the idea of permanence; we are always at the beginning and the end, because Yunior is human. Sometimes he’s better, sometimes he’s worse. Like all of us, prepared to navigate through life and in the same second have it whirl past us.
And so yes, this is a story about love, all the loves of Yunior’s life and much more. The women he adores and eventually hurts, a dislocated and fractured family, the land he calls home and... himself. This story gave me everything I was looking for in a fresh read. It’s unique in style however speaks to experiences all human’s share. You should give this one a shot, and enjoy it, because as soon as it begins, it’s over.
