\nby Sam Lipsyte
\nfrom the November 19, 2018 issue of\u00a0The New Yorker<\/em><\/span><\/p>\n
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Of course, some of this was on me. You know how it can be: once you start to dislike an author’s work it is hard to give yet another story a fair shake. Betsy, on the other hand, was contributing regularly to the New Yorker responses back then, and she took to him. I see a comment she made from May 2014 where she says, “I’m a little flustered to see how much you didn’t like it [. . . .] This guy really is not your cup of tea.” Betsy then goes on to offer many reasons to find value that I was overlooking.<\/p>\n It’s been years since I read Lipsyte. To be honest, I’m curious if I’ve given myself enough space to approach “Give Recent Some Love” with a clear head and without preconceptions.<\/p>\n Then again, I read the first paragraph:<\/p>\n At this juncture, in this environment, only an ogre could defend Mike Matlby, and Isaac was not quite the ogre type. Maybe more on the order of a jerk, according to Nina. As a human being, a woman, and his life partner, she added, she felt it was crucial that she make this distinction. All men, yes. But not all men in all ways.<\/span><\/p><\/blockquote>\n The first two sentences are fine, and clearly we are looking at another story that will look at the world with #MeToo. After that, though, it all starts to feel disjointed and vague to me, the last two sentences, in particular.<\/p>\n I think this is a stylistic thing, and it might work for many. Maybe it would work for me if I didn’t have a bit of wariness to Lipsyte’s work.<\/p>\n So what do you all think? Please let me know below, and I’ll work on giving it<\/p>\n [\/fusion_text][fusion_builder_row_inner][fusion_builder_column_inner type=”1_2″ layout=”1_2″ background_position=”left top” background_color=”” border_size=”0″ border_color=”” border_style=”solid” spacing=”” background_image=”” background_repeat=”no-repeat” padding_top=”” padding_right=”” padding_bottom=”” padding_left=”” margin_top=”” margin_bottom=”” class=”” id=”” animation_type=”” animation_speed=”0.3″ animation_direction=”left” hide_on_mobile=”small-visibility,medium-visibility,large-visibility” center_content=”no” last=”no” min_height=”” hover_type=”none” link=”” border_position=”all”][fusion_text columns=”” column_min_width=”” column_spacing=”” rule_style=”default” rule_size=”” rule_color=”” hide_on_mobile=”small-visibility,medium-visibility,large-visibility” class=”” id=””]<\/p>\n![\"\"](\"https:\/\/i0.wp.com\/mookseandgripes.com\/reviews\/wp-content\/uploads\/2018\/11\/November-19-2018.jpg?resize=387%2C530\")
[fusion_dropcap boxed=”no” boxed_radius=”” class=”” id=”” color=”#003366″]O[\/fusion_dropcap]h boy, it feels like forever since we last had Sam Lipsyte in\u00a0The New Yorker<\/em>. Going back and reading my posts from 2010 to 2012, it is clear that Lipsyte and I just were not on the same page when we got more of his work; in fact, every story felt worse than the last.<\/p>\n