Teddy Wayne’s ‘Loner’ is unsettling and uncomfy, but … that’s about it.
David Federman is an otherwise unremarkable Harvard freshman, save of course for his unusual intelligence and (with it) a penchant for reading names and words backwards. Right out the gate, in orientation, he’s entranced by the unwitting spectacle that is Veronica Morgan Wells. She’s a prototypical beauty, the sort of woman high school pariahs envision collapsing into their arms as soon as they get to college.
It’s hard to tell at first, but David is probably a creepy person. Besides that penchant for backwards reading, sometimes out loud, sometimes in the middle of small talk, we know nice and early that he will go extraordinary lengths to discern things about Ms. Morgan Wells. Who amongst us after all, lads, has not trawled a school register or at least a social network with little besides a first name and some randomly gathered detail - for a little innocent romantic intelligence? This is Wayne’s scheme, to convince you, nay, remind you that you’ve been a David Federman at some point in your life; and just cause no one called you out on your behaviour, least of all the girl you ended up dating, doesn’t mean the problem always culminates in attempted rape.
I’ve given the goose away, sure, but that’s the whole point of the novel. You relate to its protagonist because we’ll all indulge in a little bit of crazy, won’t we, to get laid. Doesn’t mean we’re not quiet, unassuming guys, that posted up decent grades, that were unjustly deemed nobodies in high school, and had to find ways to live life at the very bottom of the social pecking order. College, or adulthood, is to men like David the great leveller: the place where you can finally exert some degree of influence by converting intellectual currency into sexual. Wayne renders the majesty of it all with the mastery of someone who’s lived it, campus life and its lexicon in turn converted into familiar literary manna. For all my admiration of Wayne (whose more recent release, Apartment, is off to a stellar start) this, sadly, is a trope I’m a little tired of. How easily a writer with a superb education gets to wield the academic Excalibur, a sword whose sheen is harnessed from the exact same American privilege it purports to skewer.
We are carefully mystified into believing that this world has a sort of grandeur to it, and that this is (mostly) a sufficient bedrock upon which to make cushy observations of class and gender warfare - let well alone that there aren’t any people of colour around to help exacerbate any real politics. The plot of the novel unfurls David’s intricate plan to coil Veronica, by signing up for at least one common course as her, entangling himself with her roommate, and stalking her into restricted parties and then into the city - by which point we’re meant to have decided, if we’re men, how much of this we’re personally capable of.
I’m just not convinced the monotone of David’s narration is enough, even as he and his infatuation both begin to unravel. Women characters flicker with sizzles of agency, but really only exist to help gather snow for David’s avalanche. Other men only exist to assuage or expand the scope of his insecurities. All of this is a natural side effect of the fact that a bit of a perv narrates the story - and there is a commendation to be made for Wayne’s analysis of what sort of seed eventually germinates into campus misdeed - but I could have done with a more thorough condemnation, personally, of all the white privilege.
Wayne is an obvious talent, and ‘Loner’ is an engaging experiment. I just wish publishing would demand a touch more from literary novelists than just upper percentile bona fides.
Support indie (and local) bookstores, if you can. Cop ‘Loner’ by Teddy Wayne here.
