THE MEN CAN'T BE SAVED

A tragicomic bildungsroman for the young, career-driven city set.

Poet Purkert’s debut novel brings quite a few ideas to the table—toxic masculinity, the black hole at the center of capitalism, even the wisdom of the Talmud—but it’s the flash and sizzle of his wit that really deliver this bleak cautionary tale. Twenty-something Seth Taranoff is many things, and also not much. Narcissistic, unreliable, addicted to pills, a not-long-ago successful New York junior copywriter (perhaps, he once thought, a wunderkind?) now laid off and working in a coffee shop, he manages to fail in each and every department of his life, systematically, spectacularly, with remarkable self-delusion. After a terrible stretch of long, vacant months, outside the reach of romantic love from the two women in his life—cutthroat copywriter Josie and artistic fellow barista Ramya—stuck in an existential as well as a pharmaceutically induced brain fog, Seth winds up broke, homeless, and despondent in Allentown, Pennsylvania. And, as if that weren’t enough, he realizes that his former co-worker Robert “Moon” McCloone, a man-on-top with the heart of a frat boy, has become his terrible shadow, at times persecutor, for reasons he simply can’t fathom. Is Moon the symbol of what Seth could have been in advertising if only he had fully dispensed with his conscience? Could he mean more to Seth than Seth realizes, or less? Staring into his particular abyss, Seth finally understands why he loved studying deconstruction theory in college: It's easier to pull things apart than to put them together, easier to be faithless and allow yourself to be carried by the tide, to waste your life instead of believing in it. Seth begins to walk a path of suffering that may in time lead him to the green pastures and still waters of self-acceptance. Or something like. For a man still so young, he's so old.

Ironic, plangent, gritty, and, ultimately, spiritual.