Needing to wash out the horrid taste Patriots left in my mouth, I turned to Mr. Shteyngart's fascinating piece of dystopian fiction which envisions a near future dominated by bankrupted governments, celebrity obsession, and internet-enabled omni-connectivity the likes of which we've only ever had nightmares about. There are flaws here -- the pacing leaves a lot to be desired and the silliness Mr. Shteyngart indulges in makes it harder than it should be to take the novel's plight even semi-seriously --, but there's good quality social critique too and this keeps the story afloat.
In a time not too distant from our own, America has finally spent itself into ruin, plunging the nation into economic chaos. The dollar, having been reduced to near worthlessness, has now been pegged to the Uan, while a series of foolhardy initiatives from the federal government fail to rectify the situation. Being that they are little more than pleas for citizens to comply with the latest whimsical proposal -- darts thrown in hope at the political dartboard --, it's unsurprising that the people, to the extent they can, ignore the government and their plans and try to go about their increasingly difficult lives. Ensnared in this new America are two hopelessly mismatched souls who, in spite of the chasms of culture and life experience that separate them, try to form some sort of connection in a world saturated by a kind of Facebook on steroids. Each connected person has a profile which aids the user in rating the sexual compatibility and the coolness factor of everyone they come across, a system which establishes for you your place in the human hierarchy.
The social commentary here is wonderful. Lenny and Eunice, our two protagonists, could not be more different. Lenny is a middle-aged bibliophile; teenaged Eunice has never even seen a book before. Lenny is an awkward, uncool Jewish American with no friends and embarrassing parents; Eunice is a hyper-cool, Asian urbanite who knows how to talk the lingo and live in the world. Lenny is searching for answers to life's profound questions; Eunice makes an art out of searching for nothing. In these and more, Lenny represents the old world, our world, the world where people still had some idea of how to entertain themselves, of how to do things. Eunice, meanwhile, represents what's coming, total technological dependence married to complete self-absorption. It's not a coincidence that Eunice only tolerates Lenny's hapless obsession with her until her world has crashed and returned them to pre-technological times, a world with which Lenny is familiar. Then, her dependence kicks in and she connects with Lenny, at least until things right themselves. Sure, Mr. Shteyngart isn't subtle about his characterization of old versus new; he clearly favors the old. But he rescues himself by including the warts of the old culture, lending some balance to the question.
At times, the book stalls. Apologists for Mr. Shteyngart will argue that this is intentional, a rumination on aimlessness which is one of the themes here, but I could've done without half of the many digressions in which he indulges. Otherwise, this is a quality piece of predictive fiction which, while it leaves little hope for our lives to come, certainly offers us the prospect of an entertaining ride to hell. (3/5 Stars)
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