This is my first Sam Pink novel and he
says more in 87 pages about the state of modern America than many
authors in 500 pages.
To be born in the USA today and then
reach that point that the nameless narrator is at and to realize
you've reached that point is like a dim epiphany.
The point that i'm referring to is the
slow realization that there might be nothing else in your life and
this is it. Could this be it? Seriously, God? Sharing a shitty
apartment in a city I hate and looking for a job that I will hate
more? And coming home to no girlfriend, no celebration, no babies,
no friends, no laughter, no excitement, no nothing. Maybe alcohol
and drugs will be waiting or maybe not because you're over them. Or
maybe you did get married at 28 and just because you figured that's
what you had to do and you finally found someone who will have you.
Then you wake up and you're 45 and divorced and paying money for your
kids who you only see on odd weekends and when you get home from your
job you get on your computer or ipad and the whole night is gone
reading some bullshit story on some shit website and masturbating to
pornhub and you wake up and repeat and sometimes you meet an old
buddy who's still married at a bar and drink a couple of pitchers
while talking about nothing because you both have nothing really
going on because you're in that lull. Is it depression? Is it modern
slavery? Where is happiness? Why am I not happy? What state of mind
am I in?
Those are the issues that Person by Sam
Pink tries to tackle or illuminate in a different way. In a more
simple, to the point language we enter the unnamed narrator's head.
Person is a thin book that says a lot.
Basically, that we are all a generation of folks incapable of
completing a thought. Ray Bradbury predicted our depression in
Fahrenheit 451.
"I stand in the playground and I feel like I would never be friends with someone like myself."
How can one sentence from such a thin
book tell you so much about a new Lost Generation.
The unnamed character is neither sad
nor happy, he's just numb. Numb to the entire world. He's not even
sure of his feelings because he always says something negative
sounding and then he retracts it by saying he was just kidding. No
spine, no confidence, no conviction not even to himself. He could be
a serial killer but at this particular moment in his life he lacks
the will to do ANYTHING.
His humor is dry, but the sarcasm is
measured. This is a person that's just there breathing, speaking,
walking, thinking, but he's almost like Milton Waddams in Office
Space, a person no one really notices.
It's a beautiful portrait of a lonely
man in modern city like Chicago. There were parts that even reminded
me of James Joyce's A Painful Case.
The depression, if it is depression is
like a type of boredom. You work. You come home. You work. You eat a
shit lunch in half hour. You come home. You take a shit. You watch
TV. You wake up. Turn off the alarm. Go to work. You come home. You
try to pay your student loans. You go out on the weekend. You meet a
girl or not. You join a gym but you never really go. You commit
suicide or not like Seymour Glass in Miami Beach. The ways in which
Salinger's "A Perfect Day for Banana fish" succeeds is
where Person fails and vice versa. If Person by Sam Pink and A
Perfect Day for Banana Fish were to have sexual intercourse and have
a baby, it would be a masterpiece of the lull. Yes, the lull.
You just exist. It is a First World
issue. You're not physically suffering, but it's suffering
nonetheless.
This book is what David Foster Wallace
wanted to say in The Pale King but in not so many words.
But Sam Pink doesn't take himself to
seriously, for this is like a wink at the reader, "Come let's be
bored and lonely, and afraid together."
Let's explore the great boredom that is
depression or maybe it's not depression but the solitude in modern
America where you can obtain anything at any time you want because we
have every choice but we become paralyzed at the thought.
So some kid with serious mental issues
goes on a shooting spree because that's the new form of suicide. You
take as many people because life is not fair so they might as well go
down with you.
So we blame the culture, and Hollywood,
and books and films and we're all at fault. When do the cracks start
to show for a society that values things that are worthless? Empty
things like money, status, false beauty, anti-spirituality.
They are not truth, for truth is real
beauty.
What is true happiness? What does it
mean to be truly fulfilled? What is true love? How can we reach piece
of mind?
What to do when you're stuck in the
lull? How do you become unstuck.
Does humanity as a whole realize we're
fucked? That we probably won't even last longer than the dinosaurs?
Are we self defeating, and self disillusioned because we're all aware
how it's going to end so we tell each other stories for comfort? Are
we all on a loop and are just repeating the same things?
And that's what the novel Person by Sam
Pink is about.
For Tyler Durden was right, our great
war is a spiritual war so get ready to make a sacrifice.
No comments:
Post a Comment