Product Description

This is the long-awaited first novel from one of the most original and memorable writers working today.

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 the 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.

D’az immerses us in the tumultuous life of Oscar and the history of the family at large, rendering with genuine warmth and dazzling energy, humor, and insight the Dominican-American experience, and, ultimately, the endless human capacity to persevere in the face of heartbreak and loss. A true literary triumph, The Brief Wondrous Life of Oscar Wao confirms Junot D’az as one of the best and most exciting voices of our time.

Product Details

• Amazon Sales Rank: #185 in Books
• Published on: 2007-09-06
• Original language: English
• Number of items: 1
• Binding: Hardcover
• 352 pages

Amazon.com
Amazon Best of the Month, September 2007: It's been 11 years since Junot Díaz's critically acclaimed story collection, Drown, landed on bookshelves and from page one of his debut novel, The Brief Wondrous Life of Oscar Wao, any worries of a sophomore jinx disappear. The titular Oscar is a 300-pound-plus "lovesick ghetto nerd" with zero game (except for Dungeons & Dragons) who cranks out pages of fantasy fiction with the hopes of becoming a Dominican J.R.R. Tolkien. The book is also the story of a multi-generational family curse that courses through the book, leaving troubles and tragedy in its wake. This was the most dynamic, entertaining, and achingly heartfelt novel I've read in a long time. My head is still buzzing with the memory of dozens of killer passages that I dog-eared throughout the book. The rope-a-dope narrative is funny, hip, tragic, soulful, and bursting with desire. Make some room for Oscar Wao on your bookshelf--you won't be disappointed. --Brad Thomas Parsons

From Publishers Weekly
SignatureReviewed by Matthew SharpeAreader might at first be surprised by how many chapters of a book entitled The Brief and Wondrous Life of Oscar Wao are devoted not to its sci fi–and–fantasy-gobbling nerd-hero but to his sister, his mother and his grandfather. However, Junot Diaz's dark and exuberant first novel makes a compelling case for the multiperspectival view of a life, wherein an individual cannot be known or understood in isolation from the history of his family and his nation.Oscar being a first-generation Dominican-American, the nation in question is really two nations. And Dominicans in this novel being explicitly of mixed Taíno, African and Spanish descent, the very ideas of nationhood and nationality are thoughtfully, subtly complicated. The various nationalities and generations are subtended by the recurring motif of fukú, the Curse and Doom of the New World, whose midwife and... victim was a historical personage Diaz will only call the Admiral, in deference to the belief that uttering his name brings bad luck (hint: he arrived in the New World in 1492 and his initials are CC). By the prologue's end, it's clear that this story of one poor guy's cursed life will also be the story of how 500 years of historical and familial bad luck shape the destiny of its fat, sad, smart, lovable and short-lived protagonist. The book's pervasive sense of doom is offset by a rich and playful prose that embodies its theme of multiple nations, cultures and languages, often shifting in a single sentence from English to Spanish, from Victorian formality to Negropolitan vernacular, from Homeric epithet to dirty bilingual insult. Even the presumed reader shape-shifts in the estimation of its in-your-face narrator, who addresses us variously as folks, you folks, conspiracy-minded-fools, Negro, Nigger and plataneros. So while Diaz assumes in his reader the same considerable degree of multicultural erudition he himself possesses—offering no gloss on his many un-italicized Spanish words and expressions (thus beautifully dramatizing how linguistic borders, like national ones, are porous), or on his plethora of genre and canonical literary allusions—he does helpfully footnote aspects of Dominican history, especially those concerning the bloody 30-year reign of President Rafael Leónidas Trujillo. The later Oscar chapters lack the linguistic brio of the others, and there are exposition-clogged passages that read like summaries of a longer narrative, but mostly this fierce, funny, tragic book is just what a reader would have hoped for in a novel by Junot Diaz.Matthew Sharpe is the author of the novels Jamestown and The Sleeping Father. He teaches at Wesleyan University.
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From The Washington Post's Book World/washingtonpost.com
Reviewed by Jabari Asim

Nowadays, there may be Hmong in Madison and Somalis in St. Paul, but some of us still have trouble keeping up with all the intense cultural mixing and melting going on amid our purple-mountained majesty. For example, mention the Dominicans among us to the average Tom, Dick or Andy Rooney, and he's liable to speak of a mythical Shortstop Island from which wing-footed infielders plot their takeover of America's pastime. As for the Dominican Republic's history, imports, exports, that sort of thing? Well, its national baseball team is one of the best in the world, right? Or is that Venezuela?

Junot Díaz has the cure for such woeful myopia. The Dominican Republic he portrays in The Brief Wondrous Life of Oscar Wao is a wild, beautiful, dangerous and contradictory place, both hopelessly impoverished and impossibly rich. Not so different, perhaps, from anyone else's ancestral homeland, but Díaz's weirdly wonderful novel illustrates the island's uniquely powerful hold on Dominicans wherever they may wander -- a borderless anxiety zone that James Baldwin would describe as "the anguished diaspora."

Thus, that nation's bloody history, often detailed in Díaz's irreverent footnotes, intrudes periodically in Oscar Wao, as if to remind Dominicans that tragedy is never far from one's doorstep. Or maybe it emerges simply to instruct the rest of us, because Díaz's characters are already painfully certain that they are destined for misfortune. Or, more precisely, cursed.

Fukú americanus, Díaz explains, is "generally a curse or a doom of some kind; specifically the Curse and the Doom of the New World." It seems especially contagious and deadly in the Dominican Republic, where "it is believed that the arrival of Europeans on Hispaniola unleashed the fukú on the world." How exotic. How ominous-sounding. How very similar to the pet profanity of New Yorkers from Staten Island to the Bronx. But the tale begins in Santo Domingo, where "a story is not a story unless it casts a supernatural shadow." It revolves around several generations of one Dominican family, of which young Oscar de León, a depressed, overweight substitute teacher, is among the youngest descendants. The clan's patriarch, a brilliant doctor named Abelard Luis Cabral, came down with an ultimately fatal case of fukú back in 1946, having run afoul of the malady's high priest.

That would be Rafael Leónidas Trujillo Molina, the tyrannical sadist who bedeviled his fellow Dominicans for more than three blood-drenched decades. Naturally, his terror-mongering casts a large, threatening shadow over much of the novel's action.

Abelard's fukú apparently becomes part of his family's DNA, traveling through time and blood cells to infect his grandson. ("Oscar Wao" is how one of the tormentors of his college years charmingly mutilated "Oscar Wilde," a derisive nickname young de Leon accepted without protest). In no rush to spill the details of his hero's short, star-crossed adventures, Díaz maneuvers his plot through various time shifts, settings and narrators. From Santo Domingo to Washington Heights, N.Y., to Paterson, N.J., various generations of de Leons wrestle with fate and lose. Along the way, Díaz liberally sprinkles his pages with allusions to authors, books and especially stories from the science-fiction and fantasy genres to which Oscar is devoted. So don't be surprised when a discussion of Caesar and Ovid morphs into the Fantastic Four versus Galactus, and Mario Vargas Llosa gets short shrift compared to Jack Kirby, the late, lamented genius of Marvel Comics's glory years.

Adding to our reading pleasure, Díaz excels at making fun of despots. At the mercy of the author's machete-sharp wit, Trujillo becomes the Failed Cattle Thief, the Dictatingest Dictator who ever Dictated, the man who was Mobutu before Mobutu was Mobutu. Of Joaquín Balaguer, Trujillo's successor, he writes, "Like most homunculi he did not marry and left no heirs." And it's hard to resist his clever nickname for François "Papa Doc" Duvalier, the madman whose pillaging made a wreck of Haiti: P. Daddy. Clearly a believer that membership has its privileges, Díaz makes cracks about Dominicans that the average Andy Rooney could never get away with. Reflecting on the ebony skin that keeps bubbling up in the de Leon bloodline, Díaz writes, "That's the kind of culture I belong to: people took their child's black complexion as an ill omen." Another character observes, "That's white people for you. They lose a cat and it's an all-points bulletin, but we Dominicans, we lose a daughter and we might not even cancel our appointment at the salon." There's also the distressing but all-too-credible spectacle of so many dark-skinned Dominicans spitting the word "nigger" more often than Timbaland at a freestyle battle or Harriett Beecher Stowe at her abolitionist best. "No one, alas, more oppressive than the oppressed," Díaz explains.

But enough about that. As Yunior (one of Díaz's narrators and a welcome holdover from Drown, his acclaimed story collection) reminds us, "This is supposed to be a true account of the Brief Wondrous Life of Oscar Wao."

Obese and socially awkward, Oscar is obsessed with food, girls, role-playing games, girls, anime, girls -- you get the picture. Trouble is, female companions remain tantalizingly beyond his grasp, as do all other kinds of companions, who eventually abandon him to his habitual depression. Oscar couldn't find a pal on the Island of Lost Toys. "You really want to know what being an X-Man feels like? Just be a smart bookish boy of color in a contemporary U.S. ghetto," Díaz writes. "Mamma mia! Like having bat wings or a pair of tentacles growing out of your chest." Does Oscar ever overcome his ungainliness and find romance or a sense of belonging? The brevity of his tale prevents me from telling you much. Although I found the big guy totally sympathetic, he's often way too stubborn for his own good. In addition, it's not his fault that nearly every other character holds our interest just as easily -- more of a reflection of Díaz's broad palette than Oscar's lack of dimension. But Oscar clearly is not intended to function as a hero in the classical sense. Is he meant primarily to symbolize the tangled significance of desire, exile and homecoming? Or is he a 307-lb. warning that only slim guys get the girls? Are we to wring from his ample flesh more of that anguished diaspora stuff? Could be, but I find sufficient meaning in the sheer joy of absorbing Díaz's sentences, each rolled out with all the nerdy, wordy flair of an audacious imagination and a vocabulary to match. It's easy to imagine Díaz smiling as he uncorked a description of a woman with "breasts like sunsets trapped beneath her skin" or writing of Trujillo, "Homeboy dominated Santo Domingo like it was his very own private Mordor."

Díaz pulls it off with the same kind of eggheaded urban eloquence found in the work of Paul Beatty (The White Boy Shuffle), Victor LaValle (Slapboxing with Jesus), Mat Johnson (Drop) and his very own Drown. Geek swagger, baby. Get used to it. Notwithstanding his neological dazzle, he's anything but longwinded. And he's patient -- maddeningly so. Díaz made us wait 11 years for this first novel and boom! -- it's over just like that. It's not a bad gambit, to always leave your audience wanting more. So brief and wondrous, this life of Oscar. Wow.

Copyright 2007, The Washington Post. All Rights Reserved.

Customer Reviews

Well-deserving of the Pulitzer!
After Junot Diaz's collection of short stories was released some years ago, the eyes of the literary world waited, with much anticipation, for the results of his first full-length attempt. By all accounts, The Brief Wondrous Life of Oscar Wao did not disappoint and went on to win the 2008 Pulitzer Prize for long fiction.

This story of a 300-lb, D&D loving, fantasy-adventure writing, Dominican nerdboy is funny, tragic, pitiful and sweet all at the same time. Told through the voices of those who know him best, it is a wonderfully fleshed-out account of a young man's life viewed from the many different angles and points that give us all our form, and never is it clearer than when driving home the point that no one of us is an island, and that no matter how we fight it, we are to some extent - more than most of us would probably like - products of our heritage, our upbringing, and the actions and words of those who love us - and, just as significantly or perhaps even more so, those who don't.

This book is all straight talk - nothing flowery here. At times vulgar and crass, even a little shocking, it might make your eyes widen a few times, but at least it's with feeling. I particularly enjoyed the viewpoint given by Lola, Oscar's sister, as she rages with her dying mother, who is no less a controlling tyrant even when facing death. If I were to express one wish to Mr. Diaz, it would be to write a companion novel just about Lola.

I don't think I've ever before read a novel where the subject matter varies so widely and vividly, from Oscar's obsession with the fantasy genre to the brutal reign of Rafael Trujillo, the former president of the Dominican Republic. You might wonder how on earth these two subjects could meet in one book, but they do, and in a way that makes you see how inseparable they really are. The past figures so prevalently in the present - and the future, one presumes - that it can't be ignored or glossed over.

Many, like me, have puzzled over the name. Oscar Wao? Is he Asian? I thought he was Dominican? Does he have an Asian father? Well, that question too is answered about halfway through, and like every other circumstance surrounding Oscar's life, it's both funny and a little sad, and not even close to what you probably think it is!

A good and thought-provoking read, in my opinion. Oscar is a character sure to stay with you for awhile.

a blend of two worlds
Reading The Brief Wondrous Life of Oscar Wao feels a bit like a Spanish lesson. That is, if you are learning Spanish from an average teenager in the DR, as Diaz likes to call it. Junot Diaz's brilliant integration of English and Spanish throughout the book not only creates a style that is rich in culture, but also reflects on the journey of our protagonist, Oscar, who struggles to find the balance between his American and Dominican identities. This tug-of-war between the cultures, standards, and stereotypes in America versus those in the Dominican Republic is a recurring theme throughout the book as Oscar, after returning to the DR for the first time in many years, decides where he fits in the most. Fitting in has never been easy for Oscar; he is our typical overweight, awkward, Sci-Fi-obsessed, Dungeons & Dragons-addicted, but still very lovable, nerd. For obvious reasons he has always had trouble fitting in at school, and even more trouble landing a date with a girl, which eventually leads to Oscar's many years of isolation, depression, and loss of hope. We wonder if these failures are merely results of his geeky, awkward nature or if they are because of something bigger: fukú. Diaz explains that fukú americanus is "a curse or a doom of some kind; specifically the Curse and the Doom of the New World." This curse, that we learn has hit almost every member of Oscar's family, is evidently now hitting him, or so the narrator likes us to believe. This presence of fukú adds a mysterious eeriness to the story, but also serves to string Oscar into his family's common experience with the curse. This reminds him, and us for that matter, that as much as he tries to assimilate and fit some American mold, he can never completely understand who he is unless he embraces his country, culture, and family heritage. Diaz's use of the stories and experiences of Oscar's family members is the perfect way, in my opinion, to show that all of this is an integral part of who Oscar is and who he will become. Diaz finds a way to throw us from world to world as he shifts protagonists, settings, tones, and even narrators, taking us on an exhilarating, yet sometimes bone-chilling, virtual tour of Oscar's family history. Junot Diaz's shrewd, intelligent, and incredibly fun novel will surely keep you on the edge of your seat with his relatable, authentic characters and their engrossing stories. His language is sprinkled with Spanish expressions, some of which you will go right over your head, and rich with authenticity, wit, and humor that he cleverly brings into his lengthy but fascinating footnotes. Although it took some pages to get used to Diaz's unusual writing style and cultural innuendos, I came to love the characters and really enjoyed the book. I highly recommend it!

A delectable Dominican dish of (mostly) unsavory, (oft cursed) characters
What is so great about this book? First of all, the characters: a heavy-set, hopeless romantic, computer geek, word nerd, and aspiring writer Huáscar de León; his lovely, loving sister Lola; their orphaned, abused, hard-working, (abusive) mother Belicia; and, surprisingly, the (story of the) siblings' maternal grandparents, Dr. Abelard Luis Cabral and his wife, a nurse, Socorro; as well as Yunior, the sometimes narrator sometimes love of Lola, who is Oscar's friend and roommate (not necessarily in that order. Second, the subjects: infatuation (Oscar's almost constant state of mind), love, sex, abuse, torture and murder. If that doesn't sound thrilling enough, the most wondrous thing about it is Diaz' crazy, fast-paced, in-your-face (p 19) "You didn't know we were occupied twice in the twentieth century? Don't worry, when you have kids they won't know the U.S. occupied Iraq either," writing style (filled with political and historical footnotes about The Dominican Republic and Trujillo, referred to as Mr. F[word]face), which includes more than a smattering of Spanish words, phrases and slang and enough overt, graphic descriptions of sexual situations and profanity to make the average reader squirm. The Brief and Wondrous Life of Oscar Wao is unusual in tone (sort of like, just your average Dominican Republic-born street-wise "n" word (used frequently in the book) letting the reader in on how it REALLY is) and style and an absolutely excellent read. Also good: Graceland by Chris Abani, Smila's Sense of Snow by Peter Hoeg, and The Kite Runner by Khaled Hosseini.