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Late in The Ask, the new book from hipster darling Sam Lipsyte, the protagonist asks his boss, “[I]f I were the protagonist of a book or a movie, it would be hard to like me, to identify with me, right?”
His boss responds, “I would never read a book like that, Milo. I can’t think of anyone who would. There’s no reason for it.”
The joke is obviously on the reader, who has, by this point, slogged through most of the solipsistic circle jerk that is The Ask. Milo Burke is indeed hard to like, as is the book.
From reading the book’s description, it would initially appear that Sam Lipsyte has matured as a writer, abandoning the sophomoric world of aimless slackers still stuck in a high school or college mindset for the world of full time jobs, babies and marriage. But appearances can be deceiving. Milo complains to the reader about every aspect of his life, from his wife Maura to his baby Bernie, to the joy his mother has found after his father’s death. He has not embraced adulthood. In middle age, Milo still ruminates on old hurts from college.
Lipsyte seems to think anger can be a substitute for social satire. Milo is angry at his mother, who is in a long-term loving relationship with a woman; he’s angry that he gave up on his dream of becoming a painter in order to “support” his family (his wife also works, so it’s unclear why he seems to think the onus falls on him); he’s angry at his wife for being too tired for sex. He’s angry with the people who run his son’s preschool, and he’s angry with his son’s babysitter. Oddly, he’s not angry with himself, but the readers will be because Milo’s anger never crosses into biting commentary. It’s just aimless and vaguely funny.
Lipsyte makes the sorts of mistakes that one might expect of his students at Columbia. For example, Milo’s boss is named Vargina. That’s supposed to be funny. The back story is that her mother was a crack addict and named her Vagina, but a kind nurse added the “r.” This is the sort of ugly stereotype that one hears from racist, classist jerks that insist that their friend’s cousin’s aunt works in Harlem and there’s a kid in her class named “Shi’thead.” If Lipsyte is trying to say something important about this character and her name, it doesn’t come through. Granted, it is kind of funny that Milo accuses a co-worker of being sexist and racist when he refers to America as a “run-down and demented pimp … some gummy coot with a pint of Mad Dog.”
There is a plot to The Ask, but it’s only there as a house for Milo’s rants. Milo works as a fundraiser for a “mediocre” New York university that is referred to as the Mediocre University throughout the book. Milo loses his job when he curses out a student who thinks she should have gotten into a certain class because her father gave a lot of money. Milo then quickly gets his job back on a contingency basis, providing he brings in a big donation—a big “ask” in the parlance of the office—from Purdy, a college friend of his. Of course it turns out his college friend has an “ask” of his own: for Milo to get intel on the adult son who is causing trouble for Purdy and his hot wife. Hijinks and ranting ensue.
And Milo rants a lot. He seems to think he was entitled to something that he didn’t get, and his ruminations on family life are about as funny as a fourth-rate mommy blog, and four times as long. Bernie’s preschool is a creepy cult, his babysitter (he imagines) leaves the kids to go shop at Costco, Milo’s wife Maura is too close with her friends. No one recognizes his genius. Supposedly, readers should identify with him, or why else read the book? Lipsyte must believe that there are thousands of 30- and 40-something men out there who are angry and cuckolded and eating turkey wraps who will find some sort of redemption in this tale of an unapologetic jerk. When the offensively named Vargina tells Milo that no one would read a book about him, Lipsyte is winking at the reader, saying, “No one understands us, except ourselves. We are our own little club.”
There is way too much in this book that is simply written for humor but isn’t particularly funny. Bernie’s preschool is constantly under siege by ideologues, there is a birthing center/café/archery range, Milo’s friend wants to pitch a reality TV show about prisoners’ last meals. These are not one-offs but running gags. They sound much funnier here than they actually are in the book.
In the end, most readers will identify with Vargina—why read a book like The Ask? There’s no reason for it.
(March, 2010)
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