All That Man Is: A Novel

This book is actually a series of short stories, each pertaining to different men at different stages in their lives. These characters are well-drawn and each will likely remind the reader of someone they know or have heard about. The stories are related to each other in two ways, as I see it. First the characters are defined by their (generally poor) relationships to friends, spouses and children Second, each is in a crisis largely of his own making which is either directly related to these relationships, or is exacerbated by the quality of those relationships. The common theme is that these characters are isolated and lonely. Many are in a state of despair, wondering about the meaning of the life they have created, deprived of true friendships and lacking in spirituality. The stories are extremely well-written, with an artists eye toward detail and texture. The settings are part of the story, often reflecting the mood and disposition of the characters. This book is not recommended for people who are depressed or those looking for a pleasant escape. This is a serious book that should lead to an examination of one's own life.

The sheer quality of the writing deserves five stars, but I have ungenerously given the book only four, because of what I would call its extremely reductive rendering of human possibilities. The title, of course, could mean 'the abundance that man is capable of' or 'the puny limit of human potential'; and it's very much the latter sense that applies here. The nine stories that make up this 'novel' are thematically linked in their pitiless portrayal of lives that have no meaning, of characters that are left wondering 'Is this all there is to life?' All the characters are men, ranging in age from about seventeen to seventy-three, and ranging in temperament from coldly selfish to existentially terrified. Sorry, I know that's vague, but I'm not going to provide potted summaries of nine stories. One could, though, generalize about what they don't have: there is no humour, almost no human warmth (the only exception I can think of is in the last story, the affection an elderly repressed homosexual feels for his daughter), no love (again with that one exception), no friendship, with people spending time with each other only because being on their own would be worse. The author has an impressive command of places in Europe one would not necessarily want to visit, and he does not spare us the details, almost without exception bleak. Cyprus in particular would seem to be best avoided as a holiday destination, with Croatia a close second. And don't go skiing in France. All the characters travel, and the keynote here is struck by the young man in the first story who exasperates his travelling companion by constantly wondering aloud why one would want to travel. Certainly nothing in the remaining eight stories provides an answer to that one. So why did I not stop reading after the first story? Well, a bit like Houellebecq, the sheer dreadfulness exerts a kind of fascination : can things really be this awful? And can it get any worse? (It does: there is a scene in a Chinese restaurant in Croatia that still makes me feel ill.) And then, yes, the writing is truly brilliant. Only a consummate writer could come up with such an infinite variety of morbid states of mind. There is even something exhilarating about it.

I read this book because it was a finalist for the Booker prize. The good - the characters are beautifully developed. The prose flows nicely and you do want to read through it. The scenes make you experience intimately what is going on. You associate with the feelings of the characters. The bad - is this what man is? Short stories like these are what, earlier in life, turned me off avant-garde fiction. This is no different. Banal lives and their banal experiences - heck, that is most of most, if not all, peoples' lives. If I wanted to wallow in the pain of banality, I could just let my life go and then simply watch it waste away. I gave up on this book after reading through the first three short stories. I think they were beautifully, sadly, tragically written. I hate them.

It‘s an amazing novel. I can‘t actually describe it, or say that I grasp the story. It is like a feeling. The way he describes the characters and their emotions is deep. I felt the connection between the characters, but I can‘t describe it.

I was both saddened and satisfied when I finished reading this book. As I said, it is a mosaic novel, and the characters depicted within are all at different stages of life, all struggling with identity, all existentially stranded. Nine men are portrayed, so it doesn’t make sense to discuss all of them here—it would merely be a list. What I will discuss is the depth to which Szalay portrays their hardships. Their social, mental, financial, and sometimes emotional struggles are both immediate and distant. Many times, I found myself identifying with all of these men. Their different personalities make their painful journeys profound. Whether it’s timidity, anger, resignation, or suicidal ideation, the short snapshots we see of these men’s lives are as emergent as they are individual. I recommend this book to lovers of mosaic novels and character studies.

This is a collection of "stories" about being a man, starting through the younger years and ending up in old age. Each is very well written and expertly captures some of the essence of what it is to be a man. They are more like "snaphots" than stories, setting up situations that leave you thinking about how things might turn out. (Indeed, several of them could have worked as longer novellas/novels). As the stories progress, the mood getes darker and darker and the last three stories in particular, are quite depressing! Nevertheless, this is a fantasic book: well written, thought provoking and very much worth the read.

I know that this sounds like a well-bruised cliché of a description, but in my view, it could not be more apt. ALL THAT MAN IS by David Szalay is something which does exactly what it says on the tin – or more specifically is exactly what it says in its title. Just imagine, that you reduce the human condition. That you take away what Shelley referred to as the heights and beauty which lie in a special space somewhere above the human spirit. That you ignore the real reason why Man is on earth, by eliminating his search for the unique creativity which lies within each and every one of us. That you strip away art and philosophy. What you are left with is a miserable mush not entirely unrelated to the Seven Deadly Sins! David Szalay’s book should in my opinion be taken with a pinch of salt. But by that I don’t mean not taken seriously. On the contrary, it contains nine pieces (I prefer to call them in this case) which are salutary to all of us. Here, in a snapshot is each: i) Two ill-matched sixth-formers back-packing across Europe ii) The apprentice let down by his computer-gaming fixated mate only to find himself holidaying in Cyprus alone iii) The hapless hunk paid to be bodyguard to a high-class escort in London who he thinks he might have fallen for iv) The gamaphobic academic don horrified at the news that his girlfriend is pregnant v) The workaholic at a Danish newspaper who is so frightened of missing a trick to even go home to sleep vi) The stuck-in-a-midlife-rut salesman trying to sell mediocre ski chalets in the French and Swiss Alps vii) The post-middle-aged and lonely ex pat with poor social skills and a drink problem, living in Croatia viii) The mega yacht-owning fatalistic Russian oligarch being asset-stripped by his domestic partner who he isn’t actually married to ix) The old-aged high-achieving civil servant failing to come to terms with his poor health and his covert homosexuality . . . . . .And to my mind the most moving of all the pieces which form this work. Critics challenge that this is a novel. I don’t know the exact answer to that, except that each of the pieces represents Man at a different age and in a different environment. Also, Piece number i) is linked to Piece number ix) insofar as the grandson of the narrator of the last piece is Simon, one of the backpackers referred to in the first piece. Critics suggest that it is a depressing read. Ironic I would say would be more appropriate, and compellingly satirical. The scenes in the bar in the Cyprus hotel swimming pool and elsewhere put me in mind of Swift’s descriptions of the giant women of Brobdingnag in Gulliver’s Travels. It’s a book which can – and almost certainly will - make you chuckle, until you realize that most of us, and almost certainly those of us who are elderly have been there in some form or other. A writing style highly individualistic but not unlike that of Bret Easton Ellis.

ものすごく良かったです。注文したすぎの日の午前中に来ました。古本なのに新品と同じような状態です。非常に良かったです。ありがとうございました。本の内容も素晴らしいです。

David Szalay has written a brilliant book. Every story lets us discover, in a few pages, the essence of a character and his struggles and victories. I was sorry when I finished the book, so good was it.

All That Man Is is a brilliant, razor-sharp exploration of what it means to be a man in the modern world. David Szalay captures the fragility, uncertainty, and quiet desperation that often lie beneath the surface of male identity. Each chapter offers a different perspective, and together they form a powerful mosaic of masculinity stripped of its illusions. What struck me most was how Szalay doesn’t romanticize or condemn his characters—he simply shows them as they are: vulnerable, flawed, and searching for meaning in shifting landscapes of love, work, and aging. The book reveals that masculinity itself can be a fragile mask, one that hides insecurity, loneliness, and fear of irrelevance. This is literature at its finest: precise, empathetic, and unflinching. A must-read for anyone interested in how contemporary fiction can interrogate gender, identity, and the human condition.

It's a sad book I'm not gonna lie, but it's a really good read. I finished it really fast and that's always a good sign, for me at least :)