We Are Highly Amused

It’s amazing how much more reading you can get done when your classes are finally over. The funny thing is, it’s not like I really did a whole lot of the reading for my classes, but I guess it was always in the back of my mind: if I do read, it should probably be something for class. Well, that’s done with for a month or so.

So what have I been reading, you ask? (Or not . . . I have only vague illusions about the numbers that make up my readership). Well, as it is the end of the year, most publications with some sort of literary connection/aspiration has gone out of its way to make sure everyone knows their opinions concerning which books were the best this year. In the spirit of the decimal system, many resorted to aping Letterman, and giving us top ten lists. Now, with so many books being produced each year, there’s rarely a consensus as to which books belong on the list, let alone where (although, to be fair, if there were only eleven books to choose from, I’m sure very few lists would actually match up). Still, it seems pretty clear that some books were more universally considered excellent compared to others. Interestingly enough, two such books, The Brief Wondrous Life of Oscar Wao and The Yiddish Policeman’s Union, are two books that I read and reviewed when they first came out, and I was a little less-than-impressed than some of the other critics. But, hey, they got paid, and I didn’t, so maybe they’re onto something. I suggest you might try them for yourselves, but I personally can’t recommend them.

One other book that made a lot of lists I can whole-heartedly recommend: Then We Came to the End, by Joshua Ferris. Clearly the most unique feature of this book is the gimmick: it is written in the first-person plural. For those of you not so grammatically inclined (okay, I had to look up “first-person plural,” too; English is hard!), the first-person plural is told from the point of view of a narrative “we.” So, for example: “We blog about things that nobody reads or cares about.” This is not to be confused with the royal “we,” as in “We are afraid someone at work will notice that we’re writing in our blog,” but the choral “we” (and don’t for a minute think I didn’t notice that royal and choral kind of rhyme!). So what you get is a story told from a group consciousness – a hive-mind, if you will, where individuality separates you from the pack and allows you a name. It’s both disconcerting and oddly liberating.

More to the point: it is perfectly suited for the story being told. Ferris is writing about advertising specifically, but the general office/corporate culture is certainly being commented on with the use of the first-person plural. The disconnection from personality, the mindless following, the addictive need for habit: this book is for the group what Bret Easton Ellis’ American Psycho was for the individual corporate drone. Except, of course, that it’s a lot funnier, and lot less gory (which isn’t to say I didn’t like American Psycho; just that these books are two slightly different beasts).

The story is of an advertising firm going through a hard turn during the economic stumble when the Internet bubble burst. As more and more people get laid off (“Walk Spanish”), the “we” jumps back and forth recounting those days, always through observations and heard conversations. Like the Greek choruses of old, what you get from the narrator is a communal news organization, reporting and commenting on the stories of the day. Ferris, then, makes sure to give us the news first, and then to go back and fill in the actual story. If you’ve ever worked in an office (or, really, ever been in any social situation where gossip and hearsay are the information disseminators), than you know this is how news gets spread: you get the pay-off first – or at least a reasonable facsimile – and then you get the parts that led up to startling revelation. So while various characters are going through very real and personal moments, we do not enter the story until much later, having to wait until the facts are in to make sense of the information we have received.

Which is probably one of the reasons that, despite the acknowledgment that Ferris is using a gimmick, the book still works. It simply feels true to the situation, and so you very quickly get absorbed into story, and forget that what you are reading is pretty much alien to the novel-consuming public. You get sucked into the “we,” and you follow along, hoping to find out if Lynn does have cancer, or how the pro-bono campaign is going, or who is going to be laid off, or if Tom is going to come back and shoot up the office, or what exactly Joe’s deal is. You are allowed into the offices, to gather in the little groups as you hear the first- or second-hand knowledge that propels the story forward. And that becomes highly enjoyable, because you’ve been accepted – you are on the inside, now.

Perhaps the only fault I really found in the book was the pseudo-meta-narrative that Ferris felt compelled to add. I guess part of the game is to figure out who the “I” might possibly be, but I rather liked the fact that, up until the end, there is no way to pinpoint one. At the end, though, the lines become a little less blurred, and I think it actually takes away from the impact of using the first-person plural. Yet, it is a minor moment, and one that only partially (and very partially) detracts from the overall brilliance of the book.

Please note: I was going to attempt to write this in the first-person plural, but I figured pretensions aside, I’m not sure I could actually do it. It’s pretty difficult, making me respect not only Ferris, but the editor who thought: Not only is this a good idea, but I think I will be able to edit it when the time comes. So, props to you, editor man or lady.

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