David Rakoff (1964–2012)

I picked this up after reading "Someone Who Will Love You in All Your Damaged Glory." One of the stories in that book is a pastiche of the rhyming couplets Rakoff employs in this slim novel. And it is very slight (read it in one sitting at the library). It hit me hard. There are many narratives running through the book, and some of them lightly intersect with others. Supporting characters in one chapter become protagonists in another. Decades pass. History, personal and political, takes its show more toll. I have to say I'm a sucker for the whole non-linear interweaving narratives thing. The twist here is in the couplets. There's an amazing review of the book by Alexandra Schwartz (linked below) which points out the key advantage of the couplet: there are beginnings and endings in every line. The hard part is not allowing the reader to anticipate what that ending might be, or how it will sound, even if they know the first line in the couplet. Then, at key moments, make the obvious rhyme. It's a great technique. It creates sense of gravity and inevitability in the prose that keeps the narratives from spiraling out of control.

When I caught the reference to this book in the earlier story collection, I remembered hearing an NPR story about David Rakoff's death. I think it probably mentioned this novel. I remember thinking that I would never read something so squishy and boring and twee as a public radio-endorsed novel-in-couplets about love and death (I was 18). Well I sure showed me.

https://www.newyorker.com/books/page-turner/david-rakoffs-heroic-couplets show less

What a wonderful little piece. I listened to the audio, read by the author, and absolutely recommend it. It is one of the few books I think would likely suffer from being read rather than heard. I went into this having no idea David Rakoff passed away just 2 weeks after recording this book and was aware of his impending death throughout the whole of the writing process. About half way through the book I came to Goodreads to see the thoughts of others, and the first comment started with that show more fact. The knowledge did change my experience, how could it not. That said, this epic poem, or novel in verse, or whatever you want to call it was beautiful and moving and funny and heartbreaking from start to finish and I think the knowledge that it was written by a man in his 40s staring imminent death in the face did not change the emotional effect, but simply sharpened each feeling.

I went with a 4.5 thought I loved this. The first part of the tale is just a bit too overwrought and aggressively joyless for me to go to a 5. There are moments of light and humor in every life, no matter how overwhelmingly bleak. I expect Rakoff, whose sense of play really comes out later in the book knew that better than anyone. show less

It's fair to say that David Rakoff is a charter member of the gay Rat Pack, composed, more or less, of Rakoff, David Sedaris, Dan Savage, Augusten Burroughs, and Henry Alford. Unfortunately for Rakoff, he's often compared unfavorably to Sedaris, presumably because they're both gay, both named David, and both humor writers. Rakoff, however, is actually funnier, smarter, and a far better writer than Sedaris. (I should say that not only do I find Sedaris utterly unfunny, but I don't think I can show more name another writer, apart from John Seabrook, whose boundless self-regard is quite so evident in every sentence. Yeah, yeah, like everyone else, I liked the Macy's elf essay, but have you read his recent stuff? It's mostly about how much money he's made from his work and how everyone adores him. Who gives a fuck? He'd probably make a good topic for an essay in a book like Rakoff's, actually, what with his constant essays in the New Yorker about his forays to France.)

I will confess that as I read, I became a wee bit confused by the title of this book, as it gives the impression that Rakoff discusses, well, the indignities of coach class, the torments of low thread count, artisinal olive oil, and the like. In fact, none of those things shows up in the book. However, Rakoff does take on high-end Florida hotels, organic dining (at an unnamed restaurant that's obviously Chez Panisse), fasting, high fashion, and cryogenics (yep, there are people still interested in cryogenics), and other instruments of upper middle-class self-obsession.

Like a lot of the Gay Rat Pack's work the book is often embarrassing to read on the subway because you'll laugh too much. (New Yorkers have a more or less undeserved reputation for being surly, but they really will give you odd looks if you start giggling too much. Although you're probably safe if you don't giggle and mumble about The End of the World at the same time. Yes, I have actually seen someone doing that on the 6 train.) Rakoff's writing is also smart and pointed -- he takes apart the Log Cabin Republicans in an especially satisfying and effective way, and boy, does he destroy the vile Karl Lagerfeld. So ignore the weird cover copy and enjoy the essays. show less

Fairly early on in this book, when Rakoff said “pandemic” and railed against the terrible leadership in this country, I blinked and thought, wait, was this published in 2020? I googled, and found out that no, it was published in 2012, and also that Rakoff is dead.

Possibly that discovery colored my reading of the rest of the book. But I’ve never found Rakoff funny, exactly; he’s more of the hey-look-at-my-stained-insides school. (The thing that made me laugh in this book was the show more Jewish jokes, which were perfect.) Everything is more than tinged with melancholy; everything is peeled back to find the inevitable brokenness beneath.

And then there’s the last essay in the book, presumably one of the last things Rakoff ever wrote, about the cancer that would kill him. It ends with him still not knowing that, and it’s a brutal gut punch in a book scattered with them.

It took me forever to read this, and only partly because I had to take a break to read three hundred thousand words of comfort fic. It’s a really hard read. I could face it only in small pieces. I finished it glad it was over, and terribly sad that Rakoff is gone. show less