The Brief Wondrous Life of Oscar Wao

by Junot Díaz

Paperback, 2007

Call number




Riverhead (Penguin) (2007), Edition: First Edition


Things have never been easy for Oscar, a sweet but disastrously overweight, lovesick Dominican ghetto nerd. From his home in New Jersey, where he lives with his old-world mother and rebellious sister, Oscar dreams of becoming the Dominican J.R.R. Tolkien and, most of all, of finding love. But he may never get what he wants, thanks to the Fukœ-the curse that has haunted Oscar's family for generations, dooming them to prison, torture, tragic accidents, and, above all, ill-starred love. Oscar, still waiting for his first kiss, is just its most recent victim.

Media reviews

Díaz’s novel also has a wild, capacious spirit, making it feel much larger than it is. Within its relatively compact span, “The Brief Wondrous Life of Oscar Wao” contains an unruly multitude of styles and genres. The tale of Oscar’s coming-of-age is in some ways the book’s thinnest
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layer, a young-adult melodrama draped over a multigenerational immigrant family chronicle that dabbles in tropical magic realism, punk-rock feminism, hip-hop machismo, post-postmodern pyrotechnics and enough polymorphous multiculturalism to fill up an Introduction to Cultural Studies syllabus.
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It is Mr. Díaz’s achievement in this galvanic novel that he’s fashioned both a big picture window that opens out on the sorrows of Dominican history, and a small, intimate window that reveals one family’s life and loves. In doing so, he’s written a book that decisively establishes him as
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one of contemporary fiction’s most distinctive and irresistible new voices.
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User reviews

LibraryThing member davidabrams
Meet Oscar de Leon, dubbed "Oscar Wao" by bullies who liken him to the foppish Oscar Wilde. Our Oscar is a fat, virginal Dominican-American teenager who carries a Planet of the Apes lunchbox to school, spends hours painting his Dungeons & Dragons miniatures, and who knows "more about the Marvel
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Universe than Stan Lee." If Nerd was a country, Oscar would be its undisputed king. Oscar is the kind of kid we would avoid on the subway—sweaty, mumbles to himself, inevitably invades personal space, probably has bad breath.

In Junot Diaz' debut novel, The Brief Wondrous Life of Oscar Wao, however, Oscar is the flame and we are the moths. An earnestly open-hearted protagonist, he draws us to him until we incinerate in the intensity of his character. He's a pitiful-but-hopeful loser we can all relate to, even the Prom Kings and Queens among us (who might just be the loneliest kids in school). The last time I was this absorbed by a fictional weirdo was in 1989 when John Irving's Owen Meany forced me--FORCED, I SAY!—to read his Prayer twice in rapid, thirsty succession. Oscar held me captive in much the same way with his sweaty, sticky fingers tightly gripping my attention.

Let's return to Diaz for a moment. To use the words "Diaz" and "debut novel" in such close proximity is something of a joke. Diaz has been a middleweight figure on the literary scene for eleven years, based almost exclusively on his previous (and only) book Drown, a collection of interconnected stories which, like The Brief Wondrous Life of Oscar Wao, chronicled the Dominican immigrant experience with a startling freshness. If you turn to the back flap of that 1996 book, you'll read an author bio which concludes with "He lives in New York City and is at work on his first novel." That was eleven years ago. To say that Oscar Wao was much-anticipated would be an understatement.

Why the long wait? Tick off the reasons on your fingers: writer's block, the paralysis of sudden fame at a young age (Diaz was in his late 20s when the accolades started flooding in), working for years on an apocalyptic novel about the destruction of New York City which was eventually trumped by the sur-reality of 9/11, you name it. Little of that matters now, except as a trivial footnote, because at last we hold in our hands the solid, substantial Oscar Wao. We can rest assured that Junot Diaz won’t turn out to be this generation’s Harper Lee.

Now back to Oscar. As the novel's title implies, this is the chronicle of Oscar's brief, candle-flame life and charts his quest, but rarely conquest, of girls. You see, not only is Oscar a Tolkein-loving, Star Trek-quoting, Dungeons & Dragons-playing geek, he's a horny geek whose tongue hangs out and eyes bulge in cartoon cones every time a pretty girl walks by. The only trouble is, as his friend Yunior points out, "Dude wore his nerdiness like a Jedi wore his light saber." Save for one incredibly happy encounter late in his life, Oscar's lust is unrequited, but he takes this as a matter of course because he believes his family is living under the cloud of an Old-World curse called fuku brought to our shores by Columbus.

Despite wearing the family doom like a black, itchy sweater and meeting romantic rejection at every turn, Oscar optimistically journeys through the 1970s, "the dawn of the Nerd Age," Diaz writes. It's Oscar against the world and he glumly accepts his lot in life. "Everybody," he says at one point, "misapprehends me." As he grows older and retreats from his peers into the other-worlds of Lovecraft, Doc Savage, Asimov, Heinlein and Edgar Rice Burroughs, Oscar begins to think his destiny is to be "the Dominican Tolkein." He spends countless hours holed up in his room writing science-fiction and fantasy sagas. If Diaz had allowed, Oscar probably would have spent eleven years working on his masterpiece; but, as we're always reminded, this is a brief life. Oscar tries to make the most of it, even with the fuku hanging over his head.

The novel is more than just a Nerd Epic, however. Diaz pulls out all the stops in an attempt to tell an all-encompassing story of immigration and assimilation. Oscar lives with his mother and sister in the ghetto of Paterson, New Jersey, and the novel is as much their story as it is his. We're just starting to groove with sympathy for fat little Oscar when Diaz suddenly shifts gears and takes us into the world of Lola, Oscar's beautiful, athletic sister who has a stormy relationship with their mother, Belicia, a "hardnosed no-nonsense femme-matador." Then, before too many more pages have elapsed, we're deep in that woman's story, in an extended flashback called "The Three Heartbreaks of Belicia Cabral," where we learn what happened to her back in the Dominican Republic to make her so bitterly protective of her children. These chapters, along with the rest of the book are truly shaped by heartbreak, a tragedy written by fuku which determines the course of everything to come, from Oscar's obsession with Shazam to Lola's runaway teen saga.

Diaz proves to be something of a risk-taker. The Brief Wondrous Life of Oscar Wao bravely assumes there is an audience of readers who will sit through a long novel in which the English and Spanish languages mingle without the author once stopping to translate the unfamiliar words. The gist of what the Spanglish phrases mean is pretty easy to pick up, and for those readers who absolutely have to know what guapa or chuleria mean…well, an English-Spanish dictionary is as close as the internet.

Diaz also hopes his readers will come to the table with some knowledge of Dominican history, specifically the tyrannical regime of Rafael Trujillo, who ruled the Dominican Republic from 1930 to 1961 and who, if Oscar is to be believed, was master of the fuku. Trujillo who? You know, the "portly, sadistic, pig-eyed mulato who bleached his skin, wore platform shoes, and had a fondness for Napoleon-era haberdashery." If your mind is as blank as mine when it comes to the island's past, never fear: Diaz replays the highlights of Santo Domingo History 101 in footnotes which annotate the novel. Yes, footnotes. The novel is peppered with them, as any well-respecting Screed of Nerd should be. Diaz understands most of us don't know squat about Dominicans and, as in Drown, he brings us briskly into the light. (Pay attention to Trujillo, though, because he plays an important role in Oscar's destiny.)

Diaz never lets the pace lag and his sentences remain fresh and sharp throughout. One woman is described with "eczema on her hands looking like a messy meal that had set"; later, Yunior tells us what it's like to be mugged: "my guts feeling like they'd been taken out of me, beaten with mallets, and then reattached with paper clips." Through his wondrous use of language, Diaz brings the book alive and makes it tremble in our hands.

The Brief Wondrous Life of Oscar Wao is an epic in the truest sense and in its fat, endearing hero's chest beats a Homeric heart. Oscar leads us through his unflagging quest for happiness, while Diaz tumbles us through a century of Dominican history and shows us how the brief life of one lonely boy can epitomize the immigrant experience. This novel was well worth the decade-long wait.
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LibraryThing member FicusFan
This book is about a family of Americans whose roots and family are in the Dominican Republic. It shows them struggling through life in the US, and in the DR.

It had some funny moments, but mostly its something I feel the need to scrape off my shoe. It is written in what could kindly be called
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dialect, but is really part of the 'ignorance is cool oeuvre'.

The narrator calls everyone the N-word, and often doesn't speak in complete sentences, though he is a college graduate. It is full of Spanish, Spanglish, and cool slang, The main subject of the book seems to be the use and abuse of women as the definition of normal. Scoring is the only way to win in the game of life.

Throughout it all Oscar, the nerd, the reader, the writer, the speaker in proper sentences with a decent vocabulary, the good hearted, and the respectful, is denigrated, portrayed as a wacko, his masculinity erased, and his Dominican-ness denied. Finally he is killed because he is unable to change. Can we say anti-intellectual ? Of course it won the Pulitzer.

Perhaps there are those who will claim the author is not promoting these ideas, but is being ironic. The whole tone is just too snide for me to swallow that.

The book moves along quickly, but has to make fun of everyone and everything: history, the murdered. the dictatorship, the two other books about the subject [In the Time of the Butterflies] and [The Feast of the Goat].

The story is chopped up and told from various viewpoints. It jumps around and doesn't seem to have a point, other than to be cool.
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LibraryThing member Lisa2013
This is a superbly crafted story. Beautiful (Spanglish) language, wonderful flow, fascinating back and forth inter-generational tale, really it could be considered an epic. But I cannot give it 5 stars because the why of the end just infuriated me. Also, it was so very sad and so incredibly
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violent. I’m really surprised that none of the many Goodreads friends and other Goodreads members who have given it superlative reviews and mostly 5 and some 4 star ratings have mentioned how disturbing this book is, at least not enough in my view. Maybe it wasn’t at all traumatizing for them but much of the story was exceedingly unpleasant for me. The reader is continually prepared for the worst of events to come, but it didn’t minimize the impact of all that happened. In my opinion, this could be considered a definitive novel about the Dominican Republic and its history and culture. Reading it did make me sufficiently curious that before I finished reading I researched some information about this place. This novel is well worth reading and I’m glad I did, but it was not always an enjoyable experience. I’ll have to see whether or not this story and its many characters make a lasting impression on me.
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LibraryThing member kvanuska
Cursed Natives
By Karen Vanuska

The Brief Wondrous Life of Oscar Wao
By Junot Díaz

“Haitians and Cubans washed up on the shores of Florida.” “Chinese illegal aliens washed up on the shores of New York.” A Google search for the phrase immigrants washed up on our shores confirms how frequently
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journalists and politicians rely on this clichéd image. Immigrants as sea trash? Not possible. Junot Díaz’s debut novel, The Brief Wondrous Life of Oscar Wao promises to vanquish this image.

Eleven years ago, Díaz’s story collection, Drown, debuted to great acclaim. Its stories seethe with memorable characters who struggle with the pain of separation from family and their native country, the Dominican Republic. Dominican Spanish words and phrases peppered throughout the narratives ground the characters in their heritage while the Northern New Jersey setting works like sandpaper to re-shape their Dominican edges into something more American.

This month, Díaz debuts his first novel, The Brief Wondrous Life of Oscar Wao and returns to his earlier theme of identity in the face of diaspora. In Drown the setting of the Dominican Republic works like a veil that filters the light that blazes through each story. In The Brief Wondrous Life of Oscar Wao, however, the Dominican Republic becomes a full-blown, brutal and vivid character. To achieve this character-building, the novel’s acerbic narrator uses footnotes filled with colorful language and historical anecdotes: “For those of you who missed your mandatory two seconds of Dominican history: Trujillo, one of the twentieth century’s most infamous dictators, ruled the Dominican Republic between 1930 and 1961 with an implacable brutality.” Resist the urge to skip the footnotes and run to Wikipedia; these footnotes exude history, violence and drama worthy of Shakespeare.

The character Yunior returns from Drown to narrate The Brief Wondrous Life of Oscar Wao. He’s now an adult with a job and a family. His voice alternates between rage and sadness over the curse -- the fukú -- that has forced Dominican families like his and Oscar’s to abandon the Dominican Republic and seek refuge in New Jersey. In the novel’s prologue, Yunior describes the fukú: “… it is believed that the arrival of Europeans on Hispaniola unleashed the fukú on the world, and we’ve all been in the shit ever since.” When we first read these lines, Yunior’s identity has not yet been revealed. Halfway through the novel, he finally emerges from behind the curtain and joins the action with Oscar and his sister Lola at Rutgers.

Yunior’s dramatic entrance is a momentary distraction from Oscar’s story. Yunior’s guilt, sadness and anger threaten to overshadow Oscar’s poignant search for love. Also, Yunior’s reappearance makes it tempting to return to Drown and search for Oscar. Is he there and we just missed him? If so, would we learn something vital about him? While Oscar’s sister Lola is briefly mentioned in the story “Boyfriend” as “a black chick who spent three years in Italy” there is no sign of Oscar. Yunior’s dramatic reappearance might encourage some readers of Drown to connect the dots more than they should.

During a drunken college Halloween celebration, Yunior and his friends tell Oscar that his Doctor Who costume makes him look like Oscar Wild. The name Wild is slurred and Oscar de Léon becomes Oscar Wao. Oscar is a New Jersey born Dominican GhettoNerd -- a fat, fantasy/sci-fi addict who is always reading, writing or playing video games. He is also a GhettoNerd who has been desperate for the love of a woman since age seven. His search for love becomes his tragic undoing before he has a chance to turn thirty. His family’s history is littered with stories of brutal beatings suffered for love. Where Yunior fears the fukú of Oscar’s family, Oscar dismisses it. Yunior believes this dismissal is Oscar’s undoing, but is it?

The fractured structure of The Brief Wondrous Life of Oscar Wao repeatedly takes the reader two steps forward into Oscar’s biography, then one step backward into the biography of his mother, Belicia Cabral, and his grandfather, Abelard Cabral. Each of these three stories culminates in a brutal beating that changes the shape of their lives. Yunior believes that Abelard brought the fukú down on the Cabral family when he defied the Dominican genocidal dictator Trujillo; Trujillo’s very legacy was one big fukú for the entire country, responsible for the diaspora of its citizens that continues today. Belicia continued the fukú because she happened to fall in love with a gangster married to Trujillo’s sister. By Yunior’s way of thinking, when Oscar falls in love with a woman whose boyfriend is a corrupt policeman during a trip to the Dominican Republic, he’s destined to become another of the fukú’s victims.

The structure of The Brief Wondrous Life of Oscar Wao stumbles with the abrupt shift in narration from Yunior to Oscar’s sister, Lola. Lola’s story -- strong, compelling, artfully composed -- appeared in this summer’s fiction issue of The New Yorker. The resemblance of Lola’s voice to Yunior’s causes initial confusion, but details eventually reveal Lola’s identity. As compelling as her story is, its presence sacrifices Oscar and the family’s fukú by leaving them on such a distant sideline that they are barely recognizable. Unlike Oscar, Belicia and Abelard, Lola does not become a fukú victim and instead, while visiting the Dominican Republic, actually achieves a short story-style redemption. This contradiction defies Yunior’s fukú theory and seems to set up a false hope for Oscar’s redemption. Or perhaps the message we are supposed to take away is that it’s not always bad to return to one’s native land? Lola’s story muddies the novel’s waters. The much stronger possibility for Oscar’s redemption is that his mother survives the cane field beating she received on orders from her lover’s wife, immigrates to New Jersey, and starts life anew. She survives the fukú to become a woman with a foot in each country, but belonging to none. A curse of a different color? Belicia’s story speaks to this novel’s soul.

Fiction needs an Oscar Wao. We need a GhettoNerd of heroic proportions who will fight the noble battle for love. Oscar could have chosen to leave the Dominican Republic and follow his mother’s flight to America to live a loveless life. Instead, he chooses to keep his feet firmly planted in that Dominican cane field. Facing the fukú for love is an honorable fight for an honorable man in a time that sees few acts of self-sacrifice. Yunior, Lola and Belicia might be the novel’s survivors, but the mantle of survivor’s guilt burdens them with misshapen identities. Fukús might be powerful, Yunior, but Oscar proves that they don’t have to be masters of our choices.

Fiction needs Junot Díaz. The Brief Wondrous Life of Oscar Wao is a novel whose arrival should be celebrated. Too many of us haven’t had our requisite two seconds of Dominican history. Too many of us need to be reminded that we have family trees full of immigrants who came to this country with more stories of oppression than luggage. Junot Díaz gives a voice to sea trash and it’s a voice we should listen to if we want to remain worthy of having Lady Liberty at our country’s gateway.
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LibraryThing member lriley
Though it may fall short of masterpiece status--for first novels over the last decade or so it is hard to beat this one. Looking above already 74 other reviews. I really don't think I need to go into too much detail here. If one wants one has those other reviews that one can sift through for more
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information on the book. There's no point in my being redundant here.

To comment though on Diaz's writing--this book is more or less written as a narrative and in a vernacular form. Diaz makes a positive out of using his English/Spanish multi-lingualism by teasing the reader along. Stylistically--it's a very effective device in capable hands and Junot is easily that. As well he is a natural at storytelling and he has a hell of a story to tell us about--particularly the history of the Dominican Republic during the Trujillo dictatorship.

One thing--as I said I think it falls just a little short of being a masterpiece. It is however a book I can see myself re-reading--but I think as well that Diaz has the talent to do even better and that is something we should all hope for and look forward to in the coming years.
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LibraryThing member JCO123
Recommended by Militza. Very strange book about a nerd. Why would anyone want to read about a nerd? It was very difficult to read because one expects the nerd to snap out of it and have something good happen, but in the end he gets killed after he finally gets laid. WTF? Again, why would this be
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LibraryThing member sarah-e
I had some initial problems - it was hard for me to get into this book because it so strongly reflects Dominican culture, which I know nothing about. The culture expressed became one of my favorite aspects of the story because it gave me insight to a country I had never thought much about. I
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wondered when I started the book if I needed a Spanish dictionary to help me through it, but I think the separation we readers feel because of the language and the culture differences mimics Oscar's struggle to fit in and find his place in cultures and communities where he is always a little different.

Oscar's story is rooted in a curse from the Trujillo regime that reaches through his grandparents and mother to Oscar and his sister. The story of the curse is told through the history of the DR, and Oscar's own story reflects his personal history with women. Oscar is sometimes funny, sometimes creepy, and reminded me of people I know and of myself. I finished this book at night, and struggled to make peace with it before falling asleep. It reached into my dreams, and when I woke I understood it. For me, the language was too rough, the Spanish went over my head, and Oscar's heartbreaking struggle was just plain sad, but it was all worth it, all amazing.
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LibraryThing member dukedom_enough
One reason to read novels is to glimpse worlds different from our own. The Brief Wondrous Life of Oscar Wao presents two such worlds. Oscar de Leon's family is from the Dominican Republic, ruled 1930-1961 by the brutal dictator Trujillo - like much other history, a world not generally well known in
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the US. Oscar, raised in New Jersey, grows up as much Nerd as Dominican, loving science fiction, fantasy, comics, and gaming - a world perhaps somewhat better known. A proper nerd, he has zero success with women, in contrast with typical, male Dominican sexual charm.

The novel is as much the story of his family - especially his sister and mother - as of Oscar himself. A small act of defiance leads to Oscar's grandparents' ruin, and the family's subsequent, recurring ill fortune is ascribed to a curse placed on them by Trujillo, a curse that Oscar must encounter in his turn. The misfortunes of three generations make for a compelling story. The possibility of a curse puts the novel into the magical-realist realm, though one is never sure. The Dominican world, both on the Island and in its US diaspora, is interestingly presented and explained.

Explained often, but not always; many bits of Oscar's two worlds are not translated for us. The novel is in English, but numerous words, phrases and, sometimes, sentences in Dominican Spanish appear without translation. The online Spanish-to-English dictionaries I consulted did not have a translation for many of these. Similarly, Diaz uses geeky allusions, metaphors and similes throughout, without explanation. The meanings of these bits of nerdspeak are usually reasonably clear from context, but even this longtime SF reader - perfectly able to "differentiate between a Slan, a Dorsai, and a Lensman" - had to resort to Internet searches at many points. The pattern is established early on, when an elementary-school contemporary of Oscar's is said to be "so pretty she could have played young Dejah Thoris". It's clear that the reference is meant to be a superlative, but Google can't supply nonreaders of SF with the sort of emotional resonance - Dejah Thoris doubtless has figured in many geeky, adolescent-male fantasies over the past century - that they might have for a more widely known example.

We have, then, a novel the general story of which is clear, but with numerous parts that require research; this book might not have been entirely readable before the era of online search. Few readers besides (I presume) Junot Diaz can feel all these allusions, and the Spanish segments, with the same conviction he does. Wondering why, I speculate that Diaz is aiming at emphasizing a disconnect between what we know and what we should know.

Is "our" - most readers' - ignorance of the fine points of the geek world an ironic echo of our - certainly mine, and I think most US citizens' - ignorance of the Trujillo years and ongoing Dominican problems? It's no great issue that we might not know who Darkseid is, but a scandal that we don't know about Jesus de Galindez. Oscar does not get to escape history; we comfortable Americans often do. If we care about literature of the fantastic, then which is more fantastic, the green warriors and beautiful women of John Carter's dying Mars or the surreal Trujillo dictatorship and the diaspora from a living island? The Burroughs novels might well be better known than the Dominican history. This irony has been noted before, but it's one we ought not to forget.
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LibraryThing member littlegeek
Well, apparently the Pulitzer committee really loves those family epic immigrant experience books, because this one reminded me so much of MIddlesex, just with Dominicans instead of Greeks. Most effective when evoking all the terror and sadness of living under Trujillo.

I was a bit disappointed in
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Oscar, however. So he's a fat nerdy guy, but it's a pretty stock character. Ignatius J.Reilly was funnier and more "fleshed out." (sorry)

A good read, but a prize winner? I'm not so sure.
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LibraryThing member Eavans
Oh Mr. Días... I wanted to like this...

It wasn't a bad book, let's get that out of the way. The way the author played with the multiple narratives and somewhat stream of consciousnesses to elaborate on characters was interesting and illustrated his message perfectly. The seamlessness of the 4?5?
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narratives to bring to life one family was interesting and fresh, and I respect that. I wanted to like this book, desperately, but on a level of personal preference, it's definitely something I will not be rereading.

I genuinely feel the title is misleading. Call it marketing, call it a theme that brushed me by– I wasn't convinced Oscar had lived a "wondrous" life. In fact, the passages that described his overeating and compliant in gluttony made me want to throttle him, and I know depression, but if that was a cause, why wasn't that explored more?

The namedropping of science-fiction and "nerd" media grated on me. I've never been a fan of that in any work (I like my stuff a bit more timeless), and this wasn't an exception. At a certain point it didn't aide the plot; it just showed to me how much Mr. Días knows about old sci-fi/fantasy pop culture, and I couldn't give a shit about that.

I was most drawn into the world of narrator and Oscar. The moments they shared together really sucker punched me into caring a lot about them, and a part of me almost thought they'd end up together (I blame the gratuitously welcome Oscar Wilde nicknaming and the forever haunting line "But then Oscar, the dumb-ass, decided to fall in love. And instead of getting him for a year, I got the motherfucker for the rest of my life".) What can I say, I'm used to having to survive on subtext. The idea of a man spending every waking second trying to get a girl, only to end up with a boy was hilarious and fitting to me.

But alas that was not the case, and I could take that. Really, there were some moments I genuinely felt connected to the characters, but they were few and far between to care to look up much of the translations or read any of the footnotes after 20 pages.

The treatment of Oscar's suicide attempt was fine. Of course, I'd want more on that, but it almost felt wrong not to, and exactly why things went so bad for him. Depression is sprinkled in like a second ingredient to his life that's that. I don't know, I'm probably overthinking the damn story, but between his disinterest to better himself in any way or address the deeper issues made him such a stagnant character to me, and it truly infuriated me not having a hero to root for.

And maybe it's just me (actually, it's most likely, definitely me), but having the main character practically go on some kamikaze mission to woo a girl before dying horribly neither seemed worth it nor make me feel anything. I have a huge heart, inside texts and out, but the little we seemed to get of Oscar to begin with just made me feel like I'd wasted the last two days reading it.

I'm not going to mention the storyline of his mother or grandfather because if I'm being honest, I checked out of those real quick. I understand it's part of the family curse theme, but I just didn't have enough in me to care at that point.

I don't know, this book has something, and I can see why it's so loved, but it just wasn't for me. I think I'm drawn to more formal writings and texts I can relate to more, and it's a literary fault I need to work on. I won't bash on it besides that; if you've written a book that wins a Pulitzer Prize, you're obviously doing something right. It's just going to be one of those things I shelve, unfortunately.
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LibraryThing member dczapka
When I first heard of The Brief Wondrous Life of Oscar Wao, it was accompanied with substantial acclaim and rave reviews. I've become accustomed over time to taking such wildly enthusiastic reviews with a grain of salt (see, for instance, my experience with the critically acclaimed, and also
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Pulitzer Prize-winning, The Road), but I'm here to say, unequivocally, that this book is the real deal. Junot Díaz has crafted a marvelous, affecting tale that is complex, compulsively readable, and utterly unforgettable.

The structure of the story is perhaps the most surprising, as it progresses roughly backwards through the generations of the de Leon family, beginning with the overweight sci-fi dork Oscar and his punky runaway sister Lola, then examining the lives of his mother Hypatia and grandfather Abelard. Each section is an engaging and isolated tale in its own right, a nod to Díaz's training as a short story writer, but they are interconnected by the "fukú," a curse that has plagued the family for generations. The more Oscar learns about the fukú, the more convinced he becomes that he must be the one to rid the family of the curse.

The novel is unquestionably driven by its characters, figures that feel as complex and engaging as their multidimensional (and multicultural) backgrounds. Oscar is as much the fat kid as he is the prototypical Dominican, as much a part of the Caribbean as he is a part of Paterson and of New Jersey at large. Lola and Hypatia too become increasingly fascinating because we first see them through the eyes of Oscar and the occasional narrator Yunior, who dates Lola and befriends Oscar at Rutgers, but get an intense taste of their own histories in their own words. Though the main cast is relatively small, each member makes a huge impact.

Díaz's style too is as remarkable as his characterization. He proves himself as adept and comfortable riffing on history as he does talking science fiction. His voice fluctuates with his narrators effortlessly, giving each an even more distinct personality. But at the core of the novel, hidden away deftly in the copious footnotes, is the voice of Díaz himself, who casually and abrasively dismisses the actions of the horrid Dominican dictator Trujillo as if he were a common Paterson street thug. It is a dangerous but calculated move, executed brilliantly and resulting in a novel that is easily readable due to its casual tone, but never once leaves you in doubt of the author's vast intellect.

What is truly put on display here is a voice that is exceedingly confident and ready to tell a story that he knows you're going to love. And sure enough, Díaz has us laughing and crying at the precise moments he wants us to, leaving us with a closing set of chapters that are utterly haunting, as beautifully brilliant as the start of the novel is hysterical. Junot Díaz has proven that he is a force to be reckoned with in contemporary fiction, and The Brief Wondrous Life of Oscar Wao is proof that his next work cannot come soon enough.
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LibraryThing member jorgearanda
It seems to me that to really enjoy this book it's best if you know your fantasy/sci-fi, if you are bilingual (English & Spanish), and an immigrant. I fit the niche, and found the book interesting; particularly its multi-generational aspect. Still, there was always something off, something that
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made it less than fully satisfying: the caffeinated prose, perhaps, or the lulls, or the sentimentality slightly lacking in authenticity.
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LibraryThing member snash
In many ways the book was the story of the misery which extends through generations once instigated, in this case by violent dictatorship. It was also the story of the struggle to find home and love once it's been lost. That struggle is pursued in various different ways by different characters,
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Oscar being the most direct. It was written in a very colloquial English/Spanish. An excellent book with a story that captured my interest.
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LibraryThing member fuzzy_pickle
I enjoyed the history lessons from the footnotes, but didn't enjoy the story very much -- despite the fact that I understood many of the fantasy references and many of the Spanish words. The ending was tragic and without any redemptive features, maybe that's just be a personal preference...
LibraryThing member damsorrow
"As some of you know, cane fields are no fucking joke." Five fucking stars. Fuck yes to you, Mr. Diaz. On a personal note, I have the X-men logo tattooed on the inside of my lip because I've grew up feeling like a big queer bruja and I never knew that anyone else would ever know what that was like.
LibraryThing member paperhouses
Brilliant, just fucking spot-on brilliant. I loved it. Cannot effuse enough. Have to drag out the copy of "Drown" I somewhere own and had left unread. Junot Diaz, you are my hero. I hope you are off somewhere writing your next book very quickly.
LibraryThing member nbarman
This book accomplishes a lot. It's funny, it has a voice (and a witty one at that), it tells an important history of the Trujillo-era Dominican Republic, it's a coming of age novel and it has memorable characters. More than anything, I enjoyed the history lesson given in such colloquial delivery.
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It's a haunting history, and Diaz's characters - both those born during and after Trujillo's regime, are caught in the lingering terror. I can see why this book won the Pulitzer and would recommend it as a good read. It did feel a bit long and I was waiting to finish it.
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LibraryThing member myrialadel
Wow. This book was just that. It was funny, but had deep underlying conflicts within that exposed the chracters for what they truly were--their darkest motives and times, but also the good in them. This book was a very realistic depiction of life and all its flaws and hardship and unpredictability.
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A truly spectactular work.
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LibraryThing member KittyCunningham
Just couldn't get into it. Tom loves it. I may try again when my head's in a different place.
LibraryThing member pstotts
In contrast with last year’s Pulitzer Prize winner for Fiction, Cormac McCarthy’s “The Road” which is a novel of intense despair and lack of hope, Junot Díaz’s “The Brief Wondrous Life of Oscar Wao”, this year’s Pulitzer winner, is brimming with life and hope. It is a special
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novel, heartbreaking sweet and touching and filled with an overwhelming sense of human warmth. This is literature as a form of magic, a wonderful spell that entrances and makes us feel better about the human experience. It is a novel that filled my heart with hope.

The novel follows the life and times of a Dominican-American family: the beautiful and fierce mother, Belicia, the smart, intensely-driven daughter, Lola, and Oscar, an obese sci-fi/fantasy-loving nerd who is unlucky in love. A history of family misfortunes and tragedies leads the family to believe they are haunted by an ancient curse or fukú. As one may expect from the title, Oscar is the main focus of the story, but each of the three main characters, as well as other members of the family, have chapters detailing their own story. We watch as each character struggles to find their own answer to the fukú, all of them seemingly unsuccessful and doomed to misfortune.

The question eventually arises, though, in the novel: can love overcome tragedy? Does embracing love so intensely in the face of peril speak only of the tragedy or of something else transcendent? We only have to envision the Christian crucifix to comprehend the import of this question. But this is also what makes “The Brief Wondrous Life of Oscar Wao” so human and transcendent.

Díaz writes with a manic energy that imbues the story with a vast amount of life and heart. Passion flows from the pages like happy waves lapping against the reader. The characterizations, particularly of Oscar, are vivid and brilliant. Díaz lays his characters out fully open in front of us with all their flaws exposed, and eventually, this honesty charmed me, leading me to embrace these wonderful characters. I loved them for their honesty, love and passion.

Last Word:
It is a rare thing when a novel can truly capture a transcendent emotion like love, lay it out, and enrich everyone who reads about it. Junot Díaz’s “The Brief Wondrous Life of Oscar Wao” is such a novel, and deserves to be celebrated and recognized as a great American literary treasure.
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LibraryThing member delirium
bout once a year, I read a book that stands head and shoulders above the other 40-50 books I read that year. The book that leaves me wishing there was a six star category. Oscar Wao is my Book of the Year. It has the world wisdom and mastery of language found in many works written by and about a
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culture that has known oppression. Its conversational tone and use of contemporary slang soften some of the gravity of its content, making it less daunting than much of the Latin American cannon. Moreover, when making profound points, the author often references works dear to the nerd culture of my generation, like the Matrix and Watchmen. An outstanding piece of literature, and one you don’t need a background in 20th century literature or history to appreciate.
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LibraryThing member lyzadanger
This is not a novel about a fat kid named Oscar. Maybe, but barely, if so. It is instead a story of the people and events surrounding him, making a hole in the world shaped like him. It's a telling of him by way of that which surrounds him, of things orbiting him--appropriate for someone whose
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girth at one point gets compared to a planet.

It is appropriate, then, that the central theme of the novel is "fuku", a Greater Antilles version of a family-wide curse. It is not a personal hex, but one that spans generations, one of mythical, communal proportion, likened to the curse on the House of Atreus. It's triggered by love. Love drives Oscar's Dominican mother, sister, grandparents, great-aunt to the brink of their lives.

Junot Diaz tells this epic in breathless fits of smart-mouthed momentum, peppered with science fiction references, humor, and David Foster Wallace-esque footnotes. These footnotes provide smart dosages of brutal Dominican history. Shameful ones: though I could likely have pointed the country out on a map before, I feel bereft that I didn't know about the dictatorships, the repression, the violence. Now in 1950s Dominican Republic, now in 1990s New Jersey, Diaz keeps the setting leaping between intertwined meanings.

Our narrator is at first an observer, but quietly grows and grows until you realize that the novel might be about him, too. Yunior--that's all we get for a name--is a hoplessly-philandering, confident, self-described typical Dominican, good (too good) with the ladies, bound to his heritage. Initially derisive of Oscar, he is practically prostrate to him in retrospection. Then one starts wondering. It's Oscar who is supposed to be the sci-fi dork, so why is Yunior describing things himself in such sci-fi terms? The notion is Oscar's but the voice is Yunior's. Oscar's sister Lola, who shares the burden of first-person narrator for some time, has her own voice. It's Yunior's whose seems inextricable from Oscar's. How did they cross-pollinate? Are they two halves of some cosmic whole?

Diaz's bantery cleverness is balanced by the gravitas of the decades of violent regime in the Dominican Republic, protecting the story from floating off, insubstantial, even in its most snarky moments. The magical symbols the characters experience right before their greatest perils (a golden-eyed mongoose, a terrifying faceless man) bind them harder to each other and their common fates.
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LibraryThing member mthelibrarian
I was gripped by page 2 of the book by the notion that John F. Kennedy's foreign policy maneuvers in the Dominican Republic were permanent curses on the family and doomed him to assassination. Though I struggled with the large amounts of Spanish woven into the text, I felt it lended it authenticity
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and a sense of being outside the United States. I especially enjoyed the ending and last 50 pages or so. From the title of the book I knew the ending, but it was later in Oscar's life than I expected. Since "In the Time of the Butterflies" by Julia Alvarez is one of my all-time favorite books, I was interested in the several references to the Mirabal sisters as well as the Vargas Llosa novel also addressing facets of the Trujillo regime. I noted some of the movie and comics references and loved a Dominican Republic writer's insight into American culture. I found the footnotes informative and worthwhile, and recommend a print copy of the book rather than an e-book so that these can be read easily rather than as e-endnotes.
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LibraryThing member delphica
(#10 in the 2009 Book Challenge)

This was surely recommended by everyone with a pulse over the past few years, but I think I first made a note of it when Kaf said he enjoyed it. Very lively, very stylized recounting of the story of Oscar, a first generation American and his family and their roots in
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the Dominican Republic during Trujillo's regime, their life in New Jersey, and his on-going pursuit of love. Love in a warm climate, let's call it. I suspect some people are frustrated with the choice of not translating the Dominican Spanish slang, but I thought it was a fun aspect of the book and easy enough to figure out the gist from context, in the same way that you can figure out the book's other vernacular; the frequent references to The Lord of the Rings, Dungeons & Dragons, and various comic books.

Grade: A
Recommended: Well, there's the The Lord of the Rings, Dungeons & Dragons, and various comic books references which is probably a market right there. I love immigrant experience stories and this is a good one.
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LibraryThing member justchris
I once heard Junot Diaz speak, and thought he was fantastic. And of course, I'd heard all the hoopla about his writing, both [This Is How You Lose Her] and [The Brief Wondrous Life of Oscar Wao]. Then accusations came out in 2018 of Diaz harassing women and generally showing misogyny. Disappointing
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but not necessarily surprising in the years of #metoo. I found a copy of [This Is How You Lose Her] at the local thrift store (along with [Maus]). So I figured I'd pick it up and check out his writing for myself.

[This Is How You Lose Her] is a series of 9 stories, mostly revolving around Yunior, the Dominican American protagonist. This book felt semiautobiographical in the sense that Yunior and Diaz were both born in the Dominican Republic, emigrated to New Jersey at a young age, became professors of writing, etc. Write what you know, I guess. The book felt a little experimental. Four stories were written in the first person (The Sun, the Moon, the Stars; The Pura Principle; Invierno; The Cheater's Guide to Love). One was written mostly in third person with occasional first person narrator commentary/reaction (Nilda). Three were written in second person--two directed inward--the narrator addressing himself (Alma, Miss Lora), and one directed outward--the narrator addressing the lover profiled in that particular story (Flaca). One bewilderingly was a first-person female narrator, and the story appeared to have nothing to do with any other story or character in the book (Otra Via, Otra Vez).

The stories move back and forth through time, from the childhood arrival to the United States (Invierno) to presumed present day as a university professor (The Cheater's Guide to Love) and various points in between. The prose is an evocative Spanglish blend that does a great job of expressing Yunior's inner life. The stories mostly center on Yunior's and his older brother Rafa's sexual exploits: the women they fuck, the personal consequences of infidelity, how these women came and went from Yunior's life. To a lesser degree, they explore the family dynamics between the brothers and with each of their parents, and neighborhood dynamics. Racism is present and referenced both directly and indirectly but not the focus of any of these stories, instead just peppering the scenes with some sociocultural context.

Frankly, this book is the most dehumanizing toward women that I can remember reading. The women are evoked in the most sexually objectifying terms and appreciated in the narrative pretty much for whatever sexual gratification they can offer the male characters. This is partly why the completely unrelated story from a woman's perspective is so bizarre. Like, why is that even in there? And that story raises more questions than it answers--the story centers on multiple women, and the one man in the story feels more like a cipher, plus it places the narrator in juxtaposition with her lover's wife left behind in the DR to what effect? I left that story with no sense of resolution at all. And yet for all that, the inner life of the women still feels opaque, though more visible than in any of the stories told by Yunior. The closing story focuses on the personal devastation of losing his fiancee as a result of his serial cheating and the feeble attempts to pick up the pieces. Clearly, the woman at the heart of this story is central, and yet this longest story in the collection never names her. It kinda reminds me of The Bride in Kill Bill. Not a single male character in any of the stories appears as anything other than a womanizer. Well, maybe the white boy neighbor in the story centering on the childhood arrival in New Jersey who makes brief appearances as part of the unobtainable Americanness. Basically, all the Dominican men are assholes, and most of the women are sluts ("sucias").

The misogyny goes beyond the sex, though. Yunior's mother is present in several stories. She is someone to be ignored, belittled, gone around. Diaz even has Yunior reference male privilege at one point. But damn, from his youngest appearance in these stories, he and his brother just completely dismiss or invalidate anything their mother has to say to them. I guess she's portrayed sympathetically, or at least as sympathetically as a deeply misogynist narrator can manage. Yikes.

Is Diaz a talented writer? Yes. Are these stories worth reading? Maybe. Maybe not. I don't regret the time spent, but I think I'll skip [The Brief Wondrous Life of Oscar Wao]. I appreciated the colorful prose and engaging dialogue, but I could do without the exploitation of women as the vehicle for experiencing what Junot Diaz has to offer the reader.
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Dublin Literary Award (Shortlist — 2009)
Pulitzer Prize (Winner — Fiction — 2008)
LA Times Book Prize (Finalist — Fiction — 2007)


1594489580 / 9781594489587
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