This too is real life, he thinks. Not merely the accumulation of tasks, things to be done and sorted, but also the bumping up against other lives, everyone in the world insignificant when taken and observed together.
Immediately upon finishing Real Life, I found it hard to evaluate: decidedly well-written, it nonetheless has the feeling of a series of strong vignettes, not quite a fully formed novel. Now having learned that Brandon Taylor wrote this in five weeks, that makes total sense of the experience; I’m sure many of the longer scenes (detailed lab work, a tennis match, a dinner party) and the frequent aphorisms (on sympathy, memory, “good white people” who are more interested in the opinions of other white people than doing right by their Black friends) were likely already mostly formed in a notebook somewhere, and by laying on his own experience as a gay Southern Black graduate student at a Midwestern university, Taylor was able to make a cohesive whole of his various writings; but only just. Again, the writing is really very good and Taylor has important things to say, but this just barely missed the “love” mark for me and I’m rounding down to three stars. I would gladly pick up whatever Taylor comes out with next.
That he wants to be alone. That he does not want to speak to anyone. That he does not want to be around anyone. That the world has worn him down. That he would like nothing more than to slip out of his life and into the next. That he is terrified, afraid. That he wants to lie down here and never move again. What he means is that he does not know what he wants, only that it is not this, the way forward paved with words they’ve already said and things they’ve already done. What he wants is to break it all open and try again.
Set over one weekend at the end of summer — a new academic year is just about to start but we are following science grad students who work in their labs year-round — Real Life inhabits the mind of Wallace: probably the smartest student to come out of his Alabama hometown (and as a gay Black man, he had been excited to make the move to the Midwest, where he thought he might better blend in), but as the only Black student, and somehow deficient in his scientific knowledge and practical skills after his undergraduate degree, Wallace has always felt himself inhabiting the edges of life and work, despite having a group of close friends. Conversations are stilted between them, awkward and full of misunderstandings, and Wallace is always refusing their invitations to hang out; when they do get together, he feels othered as they discuss what they did the last time they hung out without him. Taylor does this disconnection really well, and as exhausting as it could feel to read these stalled and stilted conversations, it’s obviously more exhausting for Wallace; twenty-five and never been kissed, Wallace is walled-off from everyone and everything, some of it his own making, some of it racially motivated, and as this weekend begins, he’s wondering if he should just leave the program and get on with “real life”. Events will occur, and Wallace’s hidden past will be revealed, and the people around him who looked like they had it all together will be exposed for what they are, too.
Wallace feels a chasm opening up beneath him. He could say what Dana said to him. He could say that she is racist, homophobic. He could say any of the things he has wanted to say since he came here, about how they treat him, about how they look at him, about what it feels like when the only people who look like him are the janitors, and they regard him with suspicion. He could say one million things, but he knows that none would matter. None of it would mean anything to her, to any of them, because she and they are not interested in how he feels except as it affects them.
Racism and living on the outside are frequent themes in Real Life — Wallace suffers microaggressions and overt provocations, usually without his white friends backing him up — and he seems to think that if he just keeps his head down and does his work, he’ll get by. But over and over, friends and coworkers tell Wallace how selfish he is, and I thought Taylor did a really good job of slowly exposing the fact that maybe Wallace isn’t as blameless as he thinks he is: Is he a misogynist? A racist? Could he be a better friend if he wanted better friends? Is Wallace even as good at the lab work as he believes himself to be? Taylor gave me a lot to think about while reading this, and he was very skillful at drawing uncomfortable emotions from me, but I didn’t fully connect with Wallace (even less so with the supporting characters) and I was left wanting something more from the experience. Amazing for a debut novel, though.
The Man Booker 2020 Shortlist
Shuggie Bain by Douglas Stuart
This Mournable Body by Tsitsi Dangarembga
Burnt Sugar by Avni Doshi
The New Wilderness by Diane Cook
I've listed the titles in the order of my own enjoyment, and although my favourite from the longlist (Apeirogon by Colum McCann) didn't make the cut, I am not unhappy that Shuggie Bain won. This is the first time in years that I didn't try to read the longlist and I'm glad I didn't bother; what an uninspiring collection overall.
