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Executive Times |
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2008 Book Reviews |
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The Brief
Wondrous Life of Oscar Wao by Junot Diaz |
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Rating: |
*** |
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(Recommended) |
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Click
on title or picture to buy from amazon.com |
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Family Junot
Diaz’ debut novel, The Brief
Wondrous Life of Oscar Wao, may make you laugh at times, or cry at times,
and often reread a sentence or two and say, “Wow!.” The protagonist Oscar de
Leon lives, as do we all, in relationship: as a son, a brother, a friend.
Identity is also nationality, in Oscar’s case, from the Dominican Republic, a
place where family, especially during the dictatorship of President Rafael
Leónidas Trujillo, meant living or dying. Oscar is an overweight,
science-fiction loving, awkward nerd. He gives Diaz all the opportunity to barrage
readers with great words. Here’s an excerpt, from the end of Chapter 2, pp.
70-75: And
that is how I ended up in So much has changed these last
months, in my head, my heart. Rosio has me dressing up like a "real Dominican
girl." She's the one who fixed my hair and who helps me with my makeup,
and sometimes when I see myself in mirrors I don't even know who I am
anymore. Not that I'm unhappy or anything. Even if I found a hot-air balloon
that would whisk me straight to U2's house,
I'm not sure I would take it. (I'm still not talking to my traitor brother,
though.) The truth is I'm even thinking of staying one more year. Abuela
doesn't want me to ever leave--I'll miss you, she says so simply it can't be
anything but true, and my mom has told me I can stay if I want to but that I
would be welcome at home too. Tia Rubelka tells me she's hanging tough, my
mother, that she's back to two jobs. They send me a picture of the whole
family and Abuela frames it and I can't look at them without misting up. My
mother's not wearing her fakies in it; she looks so thin I don't even
recognize her. Just know that I would die for
you, she told me the last time we talked. And before I could say anything she
hung up. But
that's not what I wanted to tell you. It's about that crazy feeling that
started this whole mess, the bruja feeling that comes singing out of my
bones, that takes hold of me the way blood seizes cotton. The feeling that
tells me that everything in my life is about to change. It's come back. Just
the other day I woke up from all these dreams and it was there, pulsing
inside of me. I imagine this is what it feels like to have a child in you. At
first I was scared because I thought it was telling me to run away again, but
every time I looked around our house, every time I saw my abuela, the feeling
got stronger so I knew this was something different. I was dating a boy by
then, a sweet morenito by the name of Max Sanchez, whom I had met in Los
Mina while visiting Rosio. He's short but his smile and his snappy dressing
make up for a lot. Because I'm from Nueba Yol he talks about how rich he's
going to become and I try to explain to him that I don't care about that but
he looks at me like I'm crazy. I'm going to get a white Mercedes-Benz, he
says. Tu veras. But it's the job he has that I love best, that got me and him
started. In Santo Domingo two or three theaters often share the same set of
reels for a movie, so when the first theater finishes with the first reel
they put it in Max's hands and he rides his motorcycle like crazy to make it
to the second theater and then he drives back, waits, picks up the second
reel, and so on. If he's held up or gets into an accident the first reel will
end and there will be no second reel and the people in the audience will
throw bottles. So far he's been blessed, he tells me and kisses his San
Miguel medal. Because of me, he brags, one movie becomes three. I'm the man
who puts together the pictures. Max's not from "la clase alts," as
my abuela would describe it, and if any of the stuck-up bitches in school saw
us they would just about die, but I'm fond of him. He holds open doors, he
calls me his morena; when he's feeling brave he touches my arm gently and
then pulls back. Anyway, I thought maybe the
feeling was about Max and so one day I let him take us to one of the love
motels. He was so excited he almost fell off the bed and the first thing he
wanted was to look at my ass. I never knew my big ass could be such a star
attraction but he kissed it, four, five times, gave me goose bumps with his
breath and pronounced it a tesoro. When we were done and he was in the
bathroom washing himself I stood in front of the mirror naked and looked at
my culo for the first time. A tesoro, I repeated. A treasure. Well? Rosio asked at school.
And I nodded once, quickly, and she grabbed me and laughed and all the girls
I hated turned to look but what could they do? Happiness, when it comes, is
stronger than all the jerk girls in But I was still confused.
Because the feeling, it just kept getting stronger and stronger, wouldn't let
me sleep, wouldn't give me any peace. I started losing races, which was
something I never did. You ain't so great, are you,
gringa, the girls on the other teams hissed at me and I could only hang my
head. Coach Cortes was so unhappy he just locked himself in his car and
wouldn't say anything to any of us. The whole thing was driving me
crazy, and then one night I came home from being out with Max. He had taken
me for a walk along the Malecon he never had money for anything else—and we
had watched the bats zigzagging over the palms and an old ship head into the
distance. He talked quietly about moving to the Standing
over her that night, her part like a crack in her hair, I felt a surge of
tenderness. I put my arms around her and that was when I noticed that she was
looking at photos. Old photos, the kind I'd never seen in my house. Photos of
my mother when she was young and of other people. I picked one up.
Mami was standing in front of a Chinese restaurant. Even with the apron on
she looked potent, like someone who was going to be someone. She
was very guapa, I said casually. Abuela
snorted. Guapa soy yo. Your mother was a diosa. But so cabeza dura. When she
was your age we never got along. I didn't know that, I said. She
was cabeza dura and I was ... exigente. But it all turned out for the best,
she sighed. We have you and your brother and that's more than anyone could
have hoped for, given what came before. She plucked out one photo. This is
your mother's father, she offered me the photo. He was my cousin, and - She
was about to say something else and then she stopped. And
that's when it hit with the force of a hurricane. The feeling. I stood
straight up, the way my mother always wanted me to stand up. My abuela was
sitting there, forlorn, trying to cobble together the right words and I could
not move or breathe. I felt like I always did at the last seconds of a race,
when I was sure that I was going to explode. She was about to say something
and I was waiting for whatever she was going to tell me. I was waiting to
begin. As you
can see in the excerpt, Diaz shows no mercy to readers who might not be
fluent in more than one language. Much of Oscar Wao
involves the breaking down of barriers, so join the family of earth-dwellers
and go with this flow of this finely written novel. Steve
Hopkins, April 21, 2008 |
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Go to Executive Times Archives |
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The recommendation rating for
this book appeared in the May 2008 issue of Executive Times URL for this review: http://www.hopkinsandcompany.com/Books/Oscar Wao.htm For Reprint Permission, Contact: Hopkins & Company, LLC • E-mail: books@hopkinsandcompany.com |
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