Customer Reviews

The Reluctant Metrosexual: Dispatches from an Almost Hip Life

5 star:		(10)
4 star:		(6)
3 star:		(4)
2 star:		(2)
1 star:		(3)

 

 

When I bought this book, I was hoping for clever, funny, insightful essays on modern urban life. Instead, the book contains a series of essays trying to be clever, funny and insightful and not succeeding. I am actually perplexed that these weak essays which were probably rejected by GQ, the New Yorker, the NY Times Magazine and probably even by Los Angeles and Gear were ever published in book form.

The essays cover various aspects of the author's city life. The lack of insight and humor would be ok if his life was interesting on its own but it is not. It is a life shared by or familiar to most urban Americans. Hyman's book is like an unsuccessful version of the "recognition humor" practiced by Jerry Seinfeld. (You can imagine Hyman in a club saying "How about that internet dating," getting a few chuckles, and then silence as the follow up observations fall flat).

It is possible that the book could prove of some anthropological interest to some rural or outer suburban readers who are not familiar with city dwellers and for that one star.

Read it in the airport and on a flight from Boston to the midwest, so it's a very quick read. It was very funny, but didn't stay with me. Sort of like having a conversation with an interesting seatmate on an airplane. It passes the time, (or in this case, make a living for the author) and is amusing, but just that.

This book consists of brief, supposedly autobiographical essays from a year in his life. I wonder how much was true, and how much was strictly his vivid imagination. I hope this author does write the great american novel, since I really like his style, but I won't recommend this book to most people.

As mentioned by a reviewer below, this self-styled, supposedly-self-deprecating wannabe hipster has written a shallow, not-funny book. He tries hard to be funny in every sentence, which gets tiresome (and fails). All the expensive-name-brand-dropping had me rolling my eyes. If he was showing any talent whatsoever back in law school, I think it was a mistake for him to drop it for "his life as a writer" instead. I get the feeling that this collection of essays was meant to attract the same audience that reads authors like David Sedaris and David Rakoff. Those authors, however, have genuinely comic voices and some hilarious stories to tell, whereas Hyman may not be lying when he asserts that he's just out to catch the wave of a trendy concept. (Perhaps not unlike the difference between "homo" and "metro" in general?)

I don't think anybody could really buy "The Reluctant Metrosexual" by Peter Hyman (don't go there with his last name) for anything but the name. A positive endorsement from somebody associated with The Onion tipped the scales in Hyman's favor but having gotten through a majority of it, I can firmly say the following: it sucks. And I don't use italics all that often.

The problem is that while it's supposed to be a hip, tongue-in cheek, self-deprecating piece of wry humor (at least that's what it seems), it's missing all the elements that support and make all of that funny. It's not hip, it's wannabe hip: Hyman's obscure references, supposedly erudite vocabulary, and extended hypothetical situations are incoherent and thrown in for the sake of nothing else which makes them, in my honest opinion, stooooopid and even shallow. It gets annoying by the 3rd page (and that's still in the introduction!).

Metrosexuality also has nothing to do with it. As with his prose, he seems less of a metrosexual and more of a jealous metrosexual wannabe. You're supposed to read about his experiences and laugh, but I at least end up being continually annoyed and disgusted by how shallow a man is created through this book. The disclaimer "oh it's just me ranting ha ha take it at face value poo poo on me" makes it all the worse self-deprecation is usually not supposed to be taken literally. If the books is really worthless, why did you publish it and waste my money, which is what I think you've done!?! *grunts with much frustration*

If there is one thing to say about "The Reluctant Metrosexual," it is that I managed to make it to the end. There were numerous times during listening to the audio book that I was tempted to put an end to my involvement, finding the book's pompous and supercilious tone off-putting. The introduction was especially precious and grating, the effect of the author's narcissistic desire to be comedic, shallowly topical and engaging. I nearly did not make it to chapter one. Only the (minimal) investment of having transferred the book to my IPod kept me listening long enough to reach deeper waters.

The book is a series of essays written about the dating and sexual life of a mid-30s New York writer. Peter Hyman is one of the breed of self-conscious, morality-impaired, culture referencing urbanites who populate shows like "Seinfeld." Except with less wit and barely more insight.

Hyman reflects on his Detroit childhood, his stint at law school, hsi first pair of leather pants, his few years as a fact-checker at Vanity Fair, and his many unfulfilled and realized sexual liaisons. The book achieves its maximum depth when Hyman ruminates on the great, lost love of his life -- a woman who seemed devoted to Hyman, but evidently failed to see enough that was worthy of her continued involvement with him. Hyman was unemployed and searching for himself at the time. But at his (and her) age, with dreams of parenthood dancing in their heads, there is no time to wait for someone who is commitment-neutral, or appears so. Hyman's tale of this tragic "amour manqué" is not deep, not especially revelatory, but had enough pathos to keep me listening.

I often found my attention wandering as I listened to this book. There was not enough detail, cultural insight or fascinating self-revelation to keep me riveted. Then too, Hyman's sloppiness and the boring state of his life were enough to make one long to look away. Sloppy? He compared the pain of a male bikini wax (weird enough in itself) to the rigors faced by "the first Apollo astronauts." At first, I thought this was a gruesome reference to the fiery deaths of three astronauts training aboard Apollo 1. But then I realized that Hyman meant to reference the rigors undergone by the "Right Stuff" astronauts of the *Mercury* program in the early 60s. If you're going to make your living making cute cultural references, at least get them right. Boring? Consider that a halfway socially-engaged human being would have no interest in pursuing anonymous 3-way sex just for the ability to write about it later. Nor spend time on internet dating sites. And let's not forget the aforementioned bikini wax.

There is little about supposed metrosexuals in the book. Hyman portrays himself as a hetero aesthete, but there is little in his life (aside from a few snotty opinions about Italian dress shirts, wine preferences and cocktail-party literary references) to justify this self-identification. Hyman's reading style is a distraction as well. He doesn't seem to grasp the complexities of the sentences he has himself written. His voice does not convey his parenthetical asides in a way that the listener can understand.

Yet, I completed the book, which is (perhaps) to damn it with faint praise. Though I would not recommend "The Reluctant Metrosexual" to any of my book-reading friends, neither would I discourage anyone from reading it. There is a certain fascination in encountering the banality of the life Hyman has chosen, or rather (since he seems to live without purpose) found himself living. His unhappy life -- devoutly wishing parenthood while living in perpetual hedonistic adolescence -- is in some ways a warning.

That being said, I wish Hyman the best in moving on to a new level of maturity that seems to have eluded him thus far. It might make his next book (and there will be a next book) more interesting.

The Reluctant Metrosexual is a mostly enjoyable collection of autobiographical essays by Peter Hyman, a single (apparently unhappily so) thirty-something writer who identifies vaguely with the "metrosexual" label. Metrosexual is the latest cutsey expression, along the lines of yuppie and bobo, useful in marketing books like this one. It refers to a heterosexual man, usually educated and urban, with somewhat feminine preferences in cultural matters (at least from a more traditional macho perspective). Hyman only identifies with the term in a lukewarm way and pretty much confesses that he is using it as a marketing gimmick more than anything else, although he does have the requisite interest in dressing well, fine dining and interior decorating to fit the basic description. Most of the essays are not especially pertinent to "metrosexuality" but are more like a Sex in the City from the male perspective. In several chapters, Hyman relates misadventures concerning his dating life, including a series of dates with women who vomited on their first date with him and an awkward foray into the world of swingers. Hyman's style is glib and self-deprecating, which I found tiresome after a while. He begins the book with the rather obvious ploy of fending off would-be critics by confessing "This book is a pompous exercise in self-aggrandizement that tries too hard to be funny and displays the author's undernourished but delusional sense of his own importance." Of course, autobiography is almost by definition an exercise in narcissism. If Hyman didn't feel the compulsive need to continually call attention to his defects the reader wouldn't be so aware of them. Whether it's his perceived failure with women or his employment status (or lack thereof), Hyman is constantly pre-empting attacks on his dignity by putting himself down.

The Reluctant Metrosexual contains more than a few amusing and insightful passages. Some of Hyman's recollections shed light on the contemporary internet dating scene (home to many "serial daters" as Hyman tells it, to use yet another catch phrase of the new millennium). His account of being a lowly (at least as he describes it) fact checker for a magazine if nothing else exposes the social insecurity concerning hierarchy at such status conscious places of employment. Behind his humor, Hyman has a fairly cynical and dour worldview. He constructs a thick wall of blase worldliness around all of his perceptions, but it seems more like a pose than his true nature, which he reveals to be quite sensitive. Unlike someone like Candace Bushnell (author of Sex In The City), Hyman doesn't seem quite at home in the world of urban sophistication but still feels the need to act the part.

I might have liked the book better as a more unified work rather than a group of only loosely linked stories. Some of the chapters, isolated as they are, are a little weak in material. Hyman's life is not especially exciting or unusual. This is not a criticism, as it describes the vast majority of people, but to devote a whole essay to shopping for a shirt in Italy or describing a few items burglarized from your apartment can tax the reader's patience. There is one theme that runs throughout the book, and that is the effect that a recently ended love affair has had on him. He devotes one chapter describing this in poignant detail and often refers to it in other chapters. Whether you empathize with Hyman's nostalgic romanticism or impatiently wish he would just move on will depend on your own nature (I fluctuated in this regard). Peter Hyman is an intelligent writer and he has some funny and valuable insights, and the book has a breezy, engaging style. I'd recommend it to anyone fascinated with contemporary city life.

This was a book I snapped up the minute I saw it. Autobiographical essays/hip examinations of the modern life are something I love to read (although I have yet to read David Sedaris--so sue me). Hyman is wonderfully aware of his self serving book--I mean, it is after all, all about him. However, his book is hit or miss. Some of the prose just falls flat. The jokes about Norman Fell, Abe Vigoda, Nick Hornby, and such are overdone in this genre (and in the fictional counterpart to chick lit--whatever they call it) and so is the Sanford and Son joke (also the Charles in Charge joke). His essay about Seven Habits of people unemployed was far too long--the joke didn't work. However, there is much of promise here. His essays on Waspy Jews, Airplanes, dating (of which there are several), and his Mexican drug adventure were outstanding. He clearly loves his family and wants to be happy. And--he is smart, hip, and urbane. His book is far better than say, Rick Marin's "Cad" (yes, Hyman does use the term toxic bachelor). He puts in plug for Toby YOung, who also plugs Hyman's book on the cover. He is not yet in the realm of my favorite essayists, Joe Queenan, Chuck Klosterman, and Amy Vowell. And any guy who mentions Whit Stillman is ok with me. A promising, if uneven debut. Most of all, I hope he finds someone to love. He seems to deserve it.

"The Reluctant Metrosexual" is styled as an exploration of the phenomenon of the stylish, straight man; however, it is much more a story of growing up in an era when the phrase refers not to what one does before one turns eighteen, but what one does afterward. Peter Hyman relates, in a series of essays, his adventures in dating, employment, family life, and travel since leaving law school. His wide variety of experiences yield plentiful fodder; the essays are generally interesting and range from lighthearted anecdotes about dating to more serious explorations of career and family as they affect the young and overprivileged.

Although well-written (excepting a few slow patches), the book occasionally veers into self-indulgence and laziness. Hyman's heartache over his most promising failed relationship haunts the entire book. His metrocentrism - a total focus on the lives of yuppies-in-training, which includes those of all religions and sexual orientation but nobody living outside Manhattan - is equally pervasive and much more irritating. However, the author's animated voice and sardonic humor overcome these failings. "The Reluctant Metrosexual" is an easy but inspiring read.

Once in a while you take a chance on an unknown writer and feel like you've hit pay dirt. In Peter Hyman, I did just that. I found a modern and original voice that relates experiences that could be taken straight from my life. And that voice needs to be heard. I constantly fight the battle of ESPN over a showing of Bocuse d'Or on the food network. I can talk about Mark McGwire and Marc Jacobs. I watched Sex and the City for the sole reason that Samantha Jones is a top biller in my sexual fantasies (I've tried replacement material, but she keeps showing up--sorry Cheryl Hines).

This is a great young new author and I am eagerly awaiting the next installment. I finished this book in two days--apologies to the unwitting subway riders who had to endure my outbursts on the commute.

Hyman is anything but reluctant. He is a born metrosexual who tries too hard to charm the reader. He is funny and would be a lot funnier if he stopped trying to be charming everywhere and make himself the foil of every joke. I recommend this book for a long plane ride or a vacation. He does hold your interest and it reads at a nice pace. There is a lot of stuff to smile at and you can put it down and pick it up like a magazine.