This is How to Lose Her

Having read one of the author’s books previously, I was somewhat aware of what I’d be reading this time.  I was not surprised as the style and language was on target from his last book, The Brief and Wondrous Life of Oscar Wao.  This book, This is How You Lose Her by Junot Díaz, was a collection of short true-life reflections (stories) about relationships that didn’t work out… his own, his brother’s, and also a buddy of his.  Diaz’s Dominican background is weaved throughout the various stories: male/female communication, religion, drugs, and of course the sex!  One of the main storylines woven into the nine short stories (all with a different woman as the cheated-on partner -- were named after these women) was Junot’s older brother Rafa.  Rafa and Junot immigrated to the US when they were young, traveling with their mother to be reunited with their father who had been away for five years.  The stories are not sequenced chronologically, but do seem to build nicely on one another.  What we learn as the stories progresses is the influences in Junot’s life and how the relationship of men in his life affected how he treats women.  His father, whom only appears in one story, and his brother, who appears in most of the stories, both seem to go through women with relative regularity.  They never seem that committed but are eager for new conquests and better sex partners.  One of the clear impacts on his life is when Rafa is diagnosed with cancer.  His life changes, for a while, and looks for a woman to settle down with (contrary to his earlier behavior). Crossroads for Junot has a similar impact on him, as he hits a point in time with a physical ailment that leads him to find commitment.  My favorite stories were the “best-friend” thinking: he fathered a son while visiting DR, the demise of Rafa, and Junot’s struggles while teaching at MIT.  Certainly the lessons shared by Junot include: Dominican men seeing women as physical objects rather than life partners, growing up in his world included drugs, sex, and women, and dreams for people who lived in his world are created very differently that the “American dream.”  Diaz offers an intriguing look into the Dominican world of the 1980s/90s and one that seems unreal to have moved beyond – based on Diaz’s success as an educator and writer.  The language is raw and the stories are sad to read, illustrating so much self-abuse and certainly abuse of others.  Not everyone will enjoy this one.