Observer Review: The Subject Steve By Sam Lipsyte Essay, Research Paper

Walking, speaking, populating dull & # 8230 ; The Subject SteveSam LipsyteFlamingo? 9.99, pp272A caption author for Si companies, Steve, the storyteller of Sam Lipsyte & # 8217 ; s satirical novel, is a sardonic, self-deprecating adult male in his late mid-thirtiess given to forging tantrums in order to acquire out of any hard state of affairs. He is a careless parent whose girl, when he calls her to interrupt the intelligence that he & # 8217 ; s deceasing, answers: & # 8216 ; Please, Daddy, don & # 8217 ; Ts say that. What if this is the last clip we speak? & # 8217 ; and bents up.Steve & # 8217 ; s late diagnosed terminal unwellness is greeted with both morbid captivation and flooring indifference, even by his ain physicians who look into their patient & # 8217 ; s eyes and see merely their ain hereafters glistening ( & # 8217 ; You & # 8217 ; re deceasing rather rapidly. The remainder is a enigma better explained in our approaching book & # 8217 ; ) . The value of his unease, and the nub of the novel, is that Steve is deceasing of something utterly new. He has no symptoms and feels mulct: he is, rather literally, deceasing of ennui. Steve is the first individual to hold terminal ennui.Lipsyte & # 8217 ; s novel, his introduction, is an all-American narrative in its 21st century signifier: dry, experim

ental, post-technological, full of a world-weary nonchalance. It is reminiscent of Douglas Coupland in its authorial style, and contains echoes of Dave Eggers’s A Heartbreaking Work Of Staggering Genius in its use, or mockery, of audience-reader interaction. Whereas Eggers posited suggestions to his readers and asked them to reply to a published phone number, Lipsyte creates a faux internet chatroom in which participants may (and frequently do) verbally attack Steve.In desperation, and having exhausted his medical insurance, the dying man joins a group called the Centre for Non-Denominational Recovery and Redemption. ‘Everything’s a cult, son,’ the director reassures him. ‘If it’s not a cult it’s a man sitting alone in a room.’ But being surrounded by people as bitterly cynical as himself highlights the novel’s weakness: every character speaks with the same voice; all are depressed comedians and dispirited nihilists.Lipsyte has a gift for glib profundities (’Already I was nostalgic for my sorrows… My mouth watered for bitter fruit’), but it’s no coincidence that Steve is a caption writer. His narrative is made up of smart deliveries and cracking ideas that don’t always stretch very far.