The Booker Prize has long been dominated by novels that probe the inner lives of young women, capturing their experiences in fresh and unflinching ways. However, this trend has led to an unfortunate dearth of stories about masculinity. The latest winner of the prize, David Szalay's 'Flesh', marks a refreshing change in this regard.
The novel tells the story of István, a working-class Hungarian immigrant whose life is marked by casual encounters with women and violence. What sets Szalay apart from his literary predecessors is his unflinching portrayal of masculinity, stripped bare of swagger and machismo. Instead, 'Flesh' presents a scrupulous matter-of-factness that turns the tables on traditional masculine narratives.
István's story is one of power dynamics, with women at the helm. The novel explores themes of migration, money, and identity, weaving them into a complex tapestry of human experience. By focusing on István's struggles to navigate his place in the world, Szalay sheds light on the ways in which masculinity has been rendered invisible.
In doing so, 'Flesh' becomes an exercise in radical exteriority – we rarely catch a glimpse of István's inner life, and when we do, it is filtered through the experiences of those around him. This approach serves as a powerful rebuke to the notion that literary fiction must be bound by traditional notions of heroism or male perspective.
Szalay's willingness to confront the complexities of masculinity in all its forms has earned him the Booker Prize, an award often associated with themes of love and transcendence. Instead, 'Flesh' offers a more nuanced exploration of human experience, one that is both deeply unsettling and profoundly moving.
The novel's acceptance at the Booker ceremony was marked by Szalay's nods to his predecessors, from Martin Amis to Philip Roth. However, he also acknowledged the risks taken with this novel – a willingness to write about sex from a male perspective in an era where such narratives are often discouraged.
In doing so, Szalay proves that literary fiction need not be tied to traditional notions of masculinity or heroism. Instead, it can offer a more radical exploration of human experience, one that is both intimate and epic in scope. As the novel itself notes, life is marked by catastrophes and emotional numbness – but it is also filled with moments of beauty, connection, and transcendence.
Ultimately, 'Flesh' reminds us that novels are not bound by their authors' identities or perspectives. They can inhabit someone else's flesh for a while, offering us a glimpse into the complexities of human experience. As such, this novel stands as a testament to the power of fiction to probe, to explore, and to illuminate our shared humanity in all its beauty and ugliness.
The novel tells the story of István, a working-class Hungarian immigrant whose life is marked by casual encounters with women and violence. What sets Szalay apart from his literary predecessors is his unflinching portrayal of masculinity, stripped bare of swagger and machismo. Instead, 'Flesh' presents a scrupulous matter-of-factness that turns the tables on traditional masculine narratives.
István's story is one of power dynamics, with women at the helm. The novel explores themes of migration, money, and identity, weaving them into a complex tapestry of human experience. By focusing on István's struggles to navigate his place in the world, Szalay sheds light on the ways in which masculinity has been rendered invisible.
In doing so, 'Flesh' becomes an exercise in radical exteriority – we rarely catch a glimpse of István's inner life, and when we do, it is filtered through the experiences of those around him. This approach serves as a powerful rebuke to the notion that literary fiction must be bound by traditional notions of heroism or male perspective.
Szalay's willingness to confront the complexities of masculinity in all its forms has earned him the Booker Prize, an award often associated with themes of love and transcendence. Instead, 'Flesh' offers a more nuanced exploration of human experience, one that is both deeply unsettling and profoundly moving.
The novel's acceptance at the Booker ceremony was marked by Szalay's nods to his predecessors, from Martin Amis to Philip Roth. However, he also acknowledged the risks taken with this novel – a willingness to write about sex from a male perspective in an era where such narratives are often discouraged.
In doing so, Szalay proves that literary fiction need not be tied to traditional notions of masculinity or heroism. Instead, it can offer a more radical exploration of human experience, one that is both intimate and epic in scope. As the novel itself notes, life is marked by catastrophes and emotional numbness – but it is also filled with moments of beauty, connection, and transcendence.
Ultimately, 'Flesh' reminds us that novels are not bound by their authors' identities or perspectives. They can inhabit someone else's flesh for a while, offering us a glimpse into the complexities of human experience. As such, this novel stands as a testament to the power of fiction to probe, to explore, and to illuminate our shared humanity in all its beauty and ugliness.