This is How You Lose Her by Junot Diaz, a raw account on heartbreak

After the holidays and the onslaught of errands, I finally finished Junot Diaz’s “This is How You Lose Her”. I finished it when I decided to limit my time in cyberspace and slash those moments going after inane topics littered on the net. Sometimes it’s hard to resist the buffet of information spread out there. It’s easy to get lost on the newest drama of the Kardashians or the yoyo-dieting of Jessica Simpson. I hate to admit it, reading entertainments news is a guilty pleasure of mine. So I had to restrain myself and go back to reality and finish this good book.

Because this collection of short stories was meant to be buckled down and read in earnest, taking in the thoughts and insights of individuals on heartbreak in all its vulnerability. And as I immersed myself more into it, I realized that this book was more than stories of teenage angst or guilt but also a glimpse of other people's realities growing up as a minority in the States. 

The author used a lot of colorful Spanish slangs for description and honestly, I don’t mind. I have read J.D. Salinger’s “Catcher in the Rye” so this book’s  familiarity with profanity is not a big shock anymore. With sprinkles of dialect in the dialogues, it lends a “flavor” to the book that not many writers can pull off. It is definitely a far cry from the Western novels I have read in the past, points of view of white males/females from the middle class.

Because this book, though there are some stories of women too, is mostly about the stories of a young Dominican called Yunior uprooted from Santo Domingo talking about his life in his new country, his family, and his adventures with women. And like it or not, with this account comes a froth of machismo and bravado smothered in the language.  But still, it is steeped with emotion.

More than that, this book thrives in contradiction too. I have not read a book written by a man who could describe his women with crude, sometimes demeaning scrutiny and at the same time expose his hurts with gaping, naked honesty when he loses them. You hate him and then feel sorry for him. Because who doesn't remember the wallowing in the sadness, the inability to move on during your worst heartbreak? It is the rawness of the author’s words that sears at you, a rawness that is often camouflaged by roughness that the character is trying to project. But it is there and you feel it.

But this collection of short stories is not all about heartbreak about women. There are also stories about heartbreak in the family. For the young man with all his tough guy swagger, this book exposes some of his vulnerabilities too. Going past all the girls he mentioned here, one can also see the concern of a brother to his sick older brother and a concern of a son to his mother.

What I also liked about this book is its attempt to be true to the author’s roots. He is Dominican and he’s not afraid to show it in his writing. The dialogues of his characters were surprisingly nonchalant, like ordinary Dominican-American kids just talking. He doesn't pretend to be someone else, not a minority that's so westernized his characters feels stilted or put on. Mr. Diaz has a respect for his country, his language, his culture. It may not be the native land of his dreams but still his motherland.

Reading a book riddled with Dominican “flavored” prose has a quirky appeal to it because it reads different. Like trying out an exotic dish. I plowed right through it even though there are some Latino words I can't understand. Besides, I liked the dialogues and musings, they were short and staccato but still delivered a punch. No need to think too much if this character meant this thing or meant something else and no gritting over long winded ramblings from the protagonists. 

Given that, I look forward to reading the author's Pulitzer-winning book, “The Brief Wondrous Life of Oscar Wao”. I'm sure it will be a new literary adventure for me because it's a new plot carved with prose that is neither old-fashioned, wordy or flamboyant like this one. Honestly, I prefer that kind of writing. I lack the time for reading so this is easier to go back to without re-imagining any frilly details like a character's wardrobe. I like his style, simple and to the point but not lacking in emotional gravity.

Here are some excerpts:

“In those last weeks when he finally became too feeble to run away he refused to talk to you or your mother. Didn't utter a single word until he died. Your mother did not care. She loved him and prayed over him and talked to him like he was still OK. But it wounded you, that stubborn silence. His last fucking days and he wouldn’t say a word. You ask him something straight up, How are you feeling today and Rafa would just turn his head. Like you all didn’t deserve an answer. Like no one did.”

“You try every trick in the book to keep her. You write her letters. You drive her to work. You quote Neruda. You compose a mass e-mail disowning all your sucias. You block their e-mails. You change your phone number. You stop drinking. You stop smoking. You claim you’re a sex addict and start attending meetings. You blame your father. You blame your mother. You blame the patriarchy.. You blame Santo Domingo. You find a therapist. You cancel your Facebook..”

 “For a while you haunt the city, like a two-bit player dreaming of a call-up. You phone her everyday and leave messages which she doesn’t answer. You write her long sensitive letters, which she returns unopened. You even show up at her apartment at odd hours and at her job at downtown until finally her little sister calls you, the one who was always on your side and she makes it plain: If you try to contact my sister again, she’s going to put a restraining order on you”

“It takes a while. You see the tall girl. You go to more doctors. You celebrate Arlenny’s PH.D. defense. And one June night, you scribble the ex’s name and: The half-life of love is forever.

You bust out a couple more things. Then you put your head down. The next day you look at the new pages. For once you don’t want to burn them or give up writing forever”.