The Brief Wondrous Life of Oscar Wao

Weaving the history of politics in the Dominican Republic over the 20th century with the story of a family over three generations and writing with such flair and intelligence, Junot Díaz created a masterful book here. He’s so fearless, never worrying about political correctness, bluntly assessing the brutal regimes of Trujillo and Balaguer, and letting it rip from beginning to end, freely dropping in references to works of fantasy, untranslated Spanish, and little snippets of the supernatural. The result is a work containing a history lesson, a drama, and comedy, one that kept this reader on his toes and engaged from beginning to end.

The book tells of the fall from grace of an affluent family, starting in the present with the nerdy, show more obese titular character, his strong, rebellious sister, their sometimes overbearing mother, who we find was once rebellious and in love herself, and finally getting to their grandparents, whose lives were gradually destroyed by Trujillo. The immigrant experience is often written about, but it has such vitality here, and elements like the chapter on Oscar returning to the D.R. (“Oscar Goes Native”) were among my favorite in a book full of great chapters. Because of all its references and ideas this is a book that takes active effort to read, but I found it rewarding, and well worth it. show less

This is one of the best books I've read in a long time. Having said that, have to admit: this is both a fabulous and wrenchingly difficult read. Others have addressed the plot, so thought I'd go straight to what makes this book so complex, and so worthwhile.

What makes the book amazing: Diaz's totally unique first person narration (the story is related by the Dominican "player" boyfriend of Oscar's sister Lola), combining Dominican history, ethnic references, Jersey street slang, vulgarity, scifi/fantasy nerd references, honesty, humility and compassion to create a narrative voice unlike anything I've ever encountered in fiction. In a world full of quality literature, Junot Diaz deserves major props for creating something completely new show more and utterly compelling.

Unfortunately, this is also what makes the story's plot so wrenching to endure. If the characters weren't so unbearably real, so deeply sympathetic, then perhaps it wouldn't hurt so much to watch them line up, one after the other (first Dr. Abelard Luis Cabral, then his daughter Beli, then her son Oscar....), hell-bent on risking everything for love, only to endure heartbreaking loss and increasingly horrific consequences.

The central question of the novel seems to be: how is one's destiny determined? Is it determined by supernatural forces: fate, God, fuku (the Dominican equivalent of a curse)? Or can you shape fate by your own actions? Or - a terrifying but inescapable possibility - is one's destiny a complete crapshoot? I won't give away the ending, except to provide a little reassurance for prospective readers, for what it's worth: surely an author with as much compassion for his characters as Junot Diaz would never posit a world entirely bereft of hope. show less

Did I expect this novel to be all tetas and culos (t&a) spiced with intergalactic fanboy delusions? Not once. Did I really think I would break my heart for our ill-fated avenger or his grimy spangloid narrator? Never. But in the end, I was wrong.

The Brief Wondrous Life or Oscar Wao was just what I needed right about now: a dirty, honest, modern work of mystic realism which is never quite mystic and never quite real. This is not the dreamy, semi-tragic novela of the MR genre--this is nasty and sweaty...a book which clings to your skin in a hazy film and is not beautiful because it is beautiful, but beautiful because it never once attempts to be. There are no supernatural occurances in this story, yet the sheer outlandishness of it all show more shocks and awes so much more. Written in an effortless spanglish prose which drips of the tongue in salty heaves, with a gift for gazing beyond the muck of living to see what is truly phenomenal, this book is a present, a gift, un regalo for any who just want to say, "wow". show less

I think, in terms of style and subject matter, I have found the book that is the most similar to what I want to write. Reading this has changed how I view style and character in a drastic way.

Diaz leans into the culture he knows so much in his style. He doesn't write for the average american, or the average dominican, or the average anyone. He writes for Oscar, he writes what he knows. And he does it boldly. The frankness with which information is presented is astounding, haunting, and brilliant.

And to focus in more on Oscar, I think he is what I've been missing in my writing. A true character that is a true character. Not someone played up to be a certain way, just unapologetically him. Very, very few characters have so much show more characterization. It is impressive, it is something to look up to as a writer, and it was so much fun to read.

One smaller detail about this is that you can tell Junot Diaz is brilliant through references. Very many cultural mentions about the Dominican Republic, New York, and overall latin culture, something I grew up with. The spanish infusion is smooth. I can speak some, but even when I couldn't word for word translate, context was always enough to piece it together. Diaz is also very well read. I caught mentions of about a hundred novels, from Watership Down to The Stand. And specific references too. Something I always appreciate.

Brilliant work, and something that should be much more widely read. In terms of latin american literature, this might be the top of the mountain. show less

I once heard Junot Diaz speak, and thought he was fantastic. And of course, I'd heard all the hoopla about his writing, both [This Is How You Lose Her] and [The Brief Wondrous Life of Oscar Wao]. Then accusations came out in 2018 of Diaz harassing women and generally showing misogyny. Disappointing but not necessarily surprising in the years of #metoo. I found a copy of [This Is How You Lose Her] at the local thrift store (along with [Maus]). So I figured I'd pick it up and check out his writing for myself.

[This Is How You Lose Her] is a series of 9 stories, mostly revolving around Yunior, the Dominican American protagonist. This book felt semiautobiographical in the sense that Yunior and Diaz were both born in the Dominican Republic, show more emigrated to New Jersey at a young age, became professors of writing, etc. Write what you know, I guess. The book felt a little experimental. Four stories were written in the first person (The Sun, the Moon, the Stars; The Pura Principle; Invierno; The Cheater's Guide to Love). One was written mostly in third person with occasional first person narrator commentary/reaction (Nilda). Three were written in second person--two directed inward--the narrator addressing himself (Alma, Miss Lora), and one directed outward--the narrator addressing the lover profiled in that particular story (Flaca). One bewilderingly was a first-person female narrator, and the story appeared to have nothing to do with any other story or character in the book (Otra Via, Otra Vez).

The stories move back and forth through time, from the childhood arrival to the United States (Invierno) to presumed present day as a university professor (The Cheater's Guide to Love) and various points in between. The prose is an evocative Spanglish blend that does a great job of expressing Yunior's inner life. The stories mostly center on Yunior's and his older brother Rafa's sexual exploits: the women they fuck, the personal consequences of infidelity, how these women came and went from Yunior's life. To a lesser degree, they explore the family dynamics between the brothers and with each of their parents, and neighborhood dynamics. Racism is present and referenced both directly and indirectly but not the focus of any of these stories, instead just peppering the scenes with some sociocultural context.

Frankly, this book is the most dehumanizing toward women that I can remember reading. The women are evoked in the most sexually objectifying terms and appreciated in the narrative pretty much for whatever sexual gratification they can offer the male characters. This is partly why the completely unrelated story from a woman's perspective is so bizarre. Like, why is that even in there? And that story raises more questions than it answers--the story centers on multiple women, and the one man in the story feels more like a cipher, plus it places the narrator in juxtaposition with her lover's wife left behind in the DR to what effect? I left that story with no sense of resolution at all. And yet for all that, the inner life of the women still feels opaque, though more visible than in any of the stories told by Yunior. The closing story focuses on the personal devastation of losing his fiancee as a result of his serial cheating and the feeble attempts to pick up the pieces. Clearly, the woman at the heart of this story is central, and yet this longest story in the collection never names her. It kinda reminds me of The Bride in Kill Bill. Not a single male character in any of the stories appears as anything other than a womanizer. Well, maybe the white boy neighbor in the story centering on the childhood arrival in New Jersey who makes brief appearances as part of the unobtainable Americanness. Basically, all the Dominican men are assholes, and most of the women are sluts ("sucias").

The misogyny goes beyond the sex, though. Yunior's mother is present in several stories. She is someone to be ignored, belittled, gone around. Diaz even has Yunior reference male privilege at one point. But damn, from his youngest appearance in these stories, he and his brother just completely dismiss or invalidate anything their mother has to say to them. I guess she's portrayed sympathetically, or at least as sympathetically as a deeply misogynist narrator can manage. Yikes.

Is Diaz a talented writer? Yes. Are these stories worth reading? Maybe. Maybe not. I don't regret the time spent, but I think I'll skip [The Brief Wondrous Life of Oscar Wao]. I appreciated the colorful prose and engaging dialogue, but I could do without the exploitation of women as the vehicle for experiencing what Junot Diaz has to offer the reader. show less

It's not too often that a book elicits a primal response from me, but I flat-out sobbed at the end. Oscar is tragic in the way that so many of us are: we want to be flawless, but also often can't even fail correctly. We want to be heroic, but instead brood alone in our pride, stuck in our own social anxieties and hangups. We don't conform to how the rest of society wants us to be, but we also can't figure out why we're not universally loved and accepted.

Diaz' novel excels not just in its parallel construction between Oscar's mother's Trujillo-dominated past and Oscar's ill-fitting present, but in the seamless integration of the two at the story's climax. Just a great read.

Admittedly, I just finished this book about ten minutes ago...I feel like I'm still digesting it. But after reading some of the reviews, I had to put in a quick two cents. I think Oscar Wao is phenomenal, a sort of dervish through American/Dominican culture, complete with all the historical and cultural baggage that goes along with it. It seems to me that Díaz makes no apologies for the novel itself, its narration or its allusions : if you're unfamiliar with nerd culture, Spanish slang or certain aspects of American history (and *that* I have to say, is a fundamental aspect of this novel : the insistence on "American" in its most fundamental [and often ignored or refuted] sense), then you're left out of the loop. Either do a bit of show more homework or be comfortable in the shadows, because while the book does offer plenty of explanations through the many (often hilarious) footnotes, there's a lot left hanging. Most of the Spanish is left untranslated--and intentionally so, I'd like to think. It isn't just standard textbook Spanish, these are more than just linguistic but *cultural* references he's making. Given that, I fell in love with it, all of it. [More later, maybe, once I've finished digesting...] show less