Customer Reviews

The Losers Club

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4 star:		(3)
3 star:		(0)
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1 star:		(1)

 

 

One of the more unique novels to come out of the literary underground is Richard Perez's "Losers' Club," a captivating little novel about love, writing, clubs, and New York in the mid-90s. Gritty and edgy, it's also darkly funny (even hilarious). And in a peculiar way, very sweet and romantic.

Martin Sierra is a lonely aspiring writer in a dull, uninspiring job. He's searching for a woman he can talk to, a friend as well as a lover. And he has met that woman -- and she is Nikki, a bisexual gal struggling through the end of a dying lesbian relationship. They hang around the glittering clubs and bars of New York's nightlife, perfectly in sync, except for Nikki's lingering sense of guilt that she shouldn't be growing so close to Marty.

Marty's addiction to the personal ads reaps a pair of promising responses: Lola, full of rage and anger, and with a disturbing personal life; and Amaris, a gothic "creature of the night" with morbid interests (she once let a vampire gal suck her bleeding finger), and who has flings with the students she teaches. Martin's professional and personal life takes several strange twists, leading him to where he should have gone all along.

The New York of "Losers' Club" is a stained semiprecious stone. A superficial glittering mass of bars and clubs, full of people who expect no more from it. The inhabitants are all at least a little loserish, but intriguingly so (say what you will about Amaris, she ain't boring!). Transsexuals, goths and vampires, angry artists, frustrated writers, guys on eighteen-inch-glow-in-the-dark platform shoes, and some people who just like to hang out and watch Andy Warhol flicks. Despite the downbeat title, this is a genuinely funny, witty book (the most hilarious part is the collection of ad replies that poor Marty wades through -- some stupid, some discouraging, and some that are just creepy).

The newly restored edition is radically different from the original, however -- large chunks have been put back into the narrative, which takes away the stripped-down feel. But it gives it better flow and more insight into the characters, and in the end it's worth sacrificing the "minimalist" style. There's also some extras at the back: a book discussion club guide ("In what ways might the main character be perceived as a 'loser'?"), some related writings, and an intelligent interview with Perez sprinkled with literary references.

Perez's writing and study of his characters is reminiscent of 80s writers like Jay McInerney (except sprinkled with some very nice poetry). Maybe Dave Sedaris on acid. But he's not so busy appealing to readers' sense of cool that he forgets to keep them emotionally involved. Flashbacks reveal Marty's past with his mentally-ill, abusive mother, whom he harbors a sort of sadness for. Little flashes of dialogue reveal a lot about the characters' souls, and what kind of people they are. (Like whether they believe in fate, or talk to tombstones.)

It's hard not to like Marty. He aspires for something like happiness, and seems unable to reach it. But he is the sort who'll find it eventually. Nikki is a good balance of the realistic and idealistic -- while Marty sees her as all but perfect, we see she has doubts and insecurities too. Lola and Amaris are, in a way, enigmas -- we only see hints of what they're really like, and we learn about them as Marty does.

"The Losers' Club" leaves the reader with a sense of bittersweetness. An unusual and compelling little novel, an unconventional story about love. It will leave you with a smile -- not a grin, but a little smile.

Honestly, I purchased this with A Long Way Down by Nick Hornby, expecting this to be the lesser novel, but as it turns out I enjoyed it more. Was it the British vernacular that got on my nerves after a while? I can't say for sure.

Okay, about The Loser's Club: Complete Restored Whatever. It's a bohemian/coming-of-age novel of sorts that brings to mind a number of books: Hornby's High Fidelity, Carrol's Basketball Diaries, Miller's Tropic of Cancer, while being unique to itself.

As the novel begins, the protagonist appears to be in a late-twenty-something crises. Hating his wage-slave job and without a significant other, he's starting to agonize over his life choices. Wallowing in a crises of faith, he is beginning to realize he's truly lost. Martin is a poet and writer, who remains unpublished, and each day in plucking rejection letters from his mailbox, he is reminded of his invisibility and insignificance.

Only Nikki, his best friend, appears to have faith in him, bolstering Martin as he continues to lose heart. In this, the reader begins to understand how Nikki becomes the center of his universe. She, too, is a writer, someone who "understands." She not only provides emotional support, and something of a social education, but hope. So, why aren't these two very compatible people together? Life offers a myriad of complications. And apparently Nikki is involved in an ambiguous relationship with "Mariella," another woman.

At Nikki's prodding Martin involves himself with the downtown personal ads. As the setting is New York City in the late 1990s, these are printed ads in a local newspaper. Martin's involvement with the ads, his neurotic dependence on them, takes up most of the novel. Two of the women, Lola, an East Village painter and Amaris, a gothic dominatrix become supporting characters in the narrative, and I won't go into Martin's misadventures with them, but let's just say that things get lively.

Other people have called this a fun novel, and I agree. It reminds me of High Fidelity only in that we have a character who is self-consciously aware that he may be living a life of protracted adolescence. But isn't that always the case with creative people? Yes, Martin feels like a loser, but, as we find out, so does everyone else in this novel.

Bukowski plays a small part in this book, as the one idol who personifies survival. Martin drinks and has imaginary conversations with the man. As "the poet laureate of skid row" Martin looks up to him, clinging onto the last vestiges of hope.

One last thing I should say about The Loser's Club is that it's a fast read, heavy on dialogue, and mostly very funny. In the end, I'm glad I picked it up. As for the S/M scene between Martin and Amaris ... let's just say it's amusingly depicted and I doubt that many will be offended.

I'll start off by saying I enjoy urban love stories. Primarily, The Losers Club is doomed love story. It's also, strangely, a comedy.

Martin Sierra, is a young writer wanna-be, of some promise, who is slowly realizing that the "idea" of being a writer is better than the reality of it.

What is the reality of it? Rejection. And disdain. Constant and daily. No community. No comfort. No support.

With a "mountain of rejection letters" in his studio, threatening to consume him, Martin takes solace with the image of Charles Bukowski, patron saint of losers and outcasts. He also takes solace in New York's East Village, and in his friendship with Nikki, a gal and like-minded soul he met through the downtown personals.

Martin is obviously in love with Nikki, who is involved in an on-again, off-again relationship with another woman. Feeling somewhat rejected by her at one point, in his boredom and despair, Martin tries to lose himself in the downtown personals, becoming neurotically dependent, even addicted to them.

We meet Lola, an East Village painter and madcap neurotic. We meet Amaris, a single mother and party-girl, who is in the "Looking For Mr. Goodbar" stage of her life, rediscovering her sexuality following her recent failed marriage.

Along the way, the book is a kind of portrait of a time and place. Perez writes with very specific knowledge of the hangouts and clubs of the day, and some of the descriptions of the East Village in the book constitute some of the best writing.

I enjoyed this novel. The chapters are short and the narrative is lively and sometimes furiously energetic. The "restored edition" also features a glossary of "Spanish insults" in the back, for Spanish curse words appearing throughout the book. (The protagonist is Spanish-American.)

If there is a fault with the book, it's that the protagonist is so madly passionate; in his late twenties he seems as emotionally immature as a teenager, as wildly romantic as the character of Romeo from Shakespeare's play. Martin also shares the qualities of most obsessives: his fixation with Bukowski is evidence of this, his mad infatuation with Nikki especially brings this to mind. And of course there is the fixation with "rejection" and "failure" which is a staple of any artist's life.

On the positive, it's also quite funny in part and the book, in general is well laid out, well structured, a fact you only realize when you've made it to the end and realize how all the pieces fit together. Bottom line: a good read, a book I enjoyed.
Be forewarned: there is some vulgarity and at least one sexually explicit episode that borders on S/M.

This is a "guy" relationship book. Martin Sierra, an unpublished poet who idolizes Bukowski, can't catch a break. Nearing the age of 30, he's still desperately clinging to his dream of being a writer, though all he has to show for his efforts, so far, is a mountain of rejection letters. Unlike a Bukowski character, however, Martin is the sensitive, shy type; so along with his lack of literary success, his dead end "non-career," he can't find a date. His best and maybe only friend is a woman who takes on the big sister role, advising him as he tries to negotiate the surreal world of personal ads and the downtown singles scene.

The format reminded me a little of Fante's "Ask The Dust." Short chapters, lively characters, and a willful main character made this an entertaining read. Parts reminded me of "High Fidelity," and "Sex Lies and videotape." I enjoyed this fun book.

[...]

The story is about a down-on-his-luck writer named Martin who struggles not just with his craft, but also with a fruitless quest for love. He signs up for a voice-mail dating service that, of course, turns out to be a dead end. He also does some bar-hopping in a few odd and ostensibly quirky joints, with dismal results.

This book is bad, and not laughably bad, or moderately bad [...]. This book is insultingly bad. I'd like to count the ways, but there are far too many, so I will try to summarize, and as kindly as possible.

The writing, to put it mildly, is weak. Perez's style is hardly any style at all, unless you can call watered-down and clichéd a "style." Even the very few moments of the story that threaten to become interesting are dealt with so clumsily and pretentiously that they devolve into the same witless and lackluster mess that surrounds them.

But that's no mean feat, since the story itself is so contrived that it, literally, sounds as if it were composed of the weakest moments of some prepubescent bedroom fantasy. Martin's past, the women he meets, and his failures at work are all so bland and predictable that they make reading even this rather short book an excruciating chore.

Martin himself is a dull, inactive person. It is nigh impossible to sympathize with this person's struggles since he is so amazingly unlikable. He wanders through the story, wallowing in self-pity, exuding an ennui that is both colorless and uninspired, a textbook case of someone who treasures the miseries they've invented for themselves. The book is peppered with samples of Martin's writing, and considering their quality (think lots of eye-rolling references to dreams, darkness, love, and loss) it's no wonder he's never been published.

There is so much more. Consider the glossary of the Spanish terms that occasionally pop up in the book. Perhaps it's just an attempt at silliness, but the gesture comes across as more self-righteous than funny. [...] Consider the weird, distracting, and (above all else) very dumb footnotes.

I will end by pointing at the novel's attached "Guide for Book Discussion." I normally don't care for these. They seem to say, "Not only is this book so insightful that you'll want to discuss it with others, but its complexity and brilliance also means you won't even know where to start or what questions to ask." I'll grant that some books do fit that description, but The Losers' Club is far, far from it. The questions themselves point out the vacancy of the novel's inner themes. "How does Martin's life fail to meet his expectations?" "Describe Martin's relationship with Nikki."

Or, perhaps most fitting, "In what ways could the central character be considered a 'loser'?" I can think of many, and one of the biggest reasons is that his story is hardly worthy of the telling, especially when the telling is this bad.

Despite the gritty cover and the setting of New York City, this is not an angry book. It's a romance between outsiders, if anything. The romance between Martin and Nikki, between the author and pre-9/11 downtown New York City; if you're expecting nihilism a la "Less Than Zero" you'll be disappointed. It's actually a sweet book in many ways: a romantic comedy, with some urban profanity. A portrait of a time and place, and a coming of age novel. Contains virtually no violence. It's also a light read; those expecting literary density will be disappointed. This book falls somewhere between "Bright Lights, Big City," "A Working Stiff's Manifesto," and "High Fidelity."

After thinking long and hard about what it means to actually review a book, music, art, anything that we simply offer our opinion on...it ails me to find that so many put forth such little effort in actually doing just that while keeping the reasons behind it in context.

How did this come to be?

I FIRMLY stand behind the First Ammendment, protecting our right to freedom of speech...

Such a powerful freedom to actually have. And so many use it in the most ficticious ways.

We are one of the only countries that truly has this right, and look at what we do with it?

We take the life's work of someone, someone that we don't even personally know, and we decide to publish our opinion on that creation, spewing it out into the cyberworld and beyond?

Is that what that Ammendment was all about? Hmph. I wonder.

Does that give us the right to examine, judge, and then openly discuss our judgements with the world? Honestly? Who are we to judge anyone about anything? Have we lived their lives, walked in their footsteps? Do we know what it's truly like to be anyone other than ourselves? And how many of us are strong enough to do that, and put our creative work out into a potential pool of hungry sharks just waiting to offer their bloody opinion on whatever they like, claiming it to save us OUR valuable time, efforts, and money.

For the haters, I think about what makes you hate with such force that you'd take time out of your little time here on this earth to breed negativity? To feel it's your right to someone else's creation of art, and extension of themselves really, to bash the hell out of it? Why? What drives that?

For the lovers, I wonder why you don't express such a beautiful emotion more? What holds you back from telling a person that they've been helpful, or they've been kind, or they've been honest with you and you really appreciate that?

Why do we tend more to complain than to compliment?


It's a debate for certain, nothing new there.


I don't come to Amazon to read about the authors personal life (unless THE AUTHOR) chooses to include that information about him or herself,

I don't come to Amazon to read about a debate someone has been having over whether or not they understood or could relate to the book. I'm plagued here by idle chatter going on among people who think it's their right to tell me whether or not I will or will not be moved by the authors creation.

The only person who can relate to or respond to that creation is ME. And in my own way.

I applaud those strong enough to take a moment out of their life to actually THINK about what they are doing, writing, saying, implying, portraying...spreading overall with their energy before they actually DO it.

In my opinion, those people really understand what it's like to put your heart and soul into something, not just think about it, but actually do it. That's the difficult part that is so easy for onlookers to judge, but to actually take action by believing in ourselves to carry out our goals, see them to full fruition...

Putting one's money where one's mouth is? Is that the saying?

Styles of writing? Please, there is no correct style or format of writing, only what's been spoon fed to us through the years. Again, simply the opinion of another human being.

I'll take risk, depth, emotion, rawness, realness, over whatever "style" is supposed to be in the minds of others any day.

And my opinion on the book? I was involved with each character as they came onto the scene. I've been to New York during the times the author speaks of...he nailed every one of them. I loved that i felt alive in this book, part of it somehow. I loved that it made me fall in love with Martin. I could feel his pain, the lonely trail that seemed to follow him around like a dark shadow. I've been there emotionally and could utterly relate. The main thing I loved about Martin was that he never judged. Well, with the exception of himself. He may have had moments of questioning, but that didn't stop him from shying away, or backing down because the women he met on the site were less than perfect. The women Martin had adventures with were real. Inspiring in many ways actually. Each woman, not just Nikki, had the guts to reveal their true identity right off the bat. There weren't any smoke screens with these sirens, and I really dug that. I loved the way I felt like I was in the cab ride with Martin and Nikki. That languid, sexy, heightened feeling you get when you are around someone you're attracted to. Those chemicals that drive us to want to think about them, want to be near them, want to touch them, be intimate with them...share in those magical moments of bliss that you feel when you touch that persons lips, feel the heat of their breath next to yours...but then having that grow into carnal desire. Be entrenched inside of them, mentally, physically, spiritually...to dizzying heights, holding your breath in for dear life every time your next to them because you are worrying that it's so great it's going to end kind of feeling...

butterflies all over your body kind of feeling...



I didn't choose "The Loser's Club" to read some pipe dream that exists in stock and fantasy world, I CHOSE it because I thought it had character, and strength, and something I could relate to. Life.

The thing I truly loved most about this book is that regardless of each line, I was captured by the lives of the characters, and the worlds in which they lived. Ficticiously, and factually.

That was the fun part, I got to decide!

Right on Perez, I'm chomping at the bit to sink my teeth into those next characters that you're creating, and the adventures they find themselves in. I invision badass women, hot sex scenes and power to those of us that don't fall into the norm.

YES! It's about time someone came along and crushed deceitful little walls like that down again!

By the way, I wrote this review because I chose to, not because someone asked me to, or paid me.

KJV