Gary Shteyngart is as much a New York media entity as he is a writer. Part Yakov Smirnoff, part Woody Allen, he’s a literary showman like no other. He’s a prolific blurber of others’ books. A parade of Hollywood and publishing A-listers do cameos in trailers for Shteyngart’s own work. Publishing today demands public engagement by authors like never before; the trouble comes when a reader must separate what’s on the page from what’s on YouTube.
In 1979 the family immigrated to Queens, New York, by way of Vienna and Rome—the standard itinerary worked out by the U.S. and USSR to allow a portion of Soviet Jewry to leave in exchange for grain and other political considerations. My family was also among those fortunate enough to take advantage of this momentary thaw in the cold war and make our way west. I recognized much in this section from my own experience: The culture shock caused by sudden access to seemingly limitless amounts of consumer products. The double life split between school and home. The rabid Republicanism and extreme suspicion of anything that smacked of social engineering. The unquestioning love of Israel.
By Gary Shteyngart (Random House) In conversation with Aleksandar Hemon Wed 1/22, 6 PM Chicago Temple, First United Methodist Church 77 W. Washingtonchicagohumanities.org $15
