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I Am Charlotte Simmons: A Novel

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I Am Charlotte Simmons: A Novel Cover

ISBN13: 9780312424442
ISBN10: 0312424442
Condition: Standard
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Excerpt

Excerpt from I Am Charlotte Simmons by Tom Wolfe. Copyright © 2004 by Tom Wolfe. To be published in November, 2004 by Farrar, Straus & Giroux, LLC. All rights reserved.

Prologue: The Dupont Man

Every time the men's room door opened, the amped-up onslaught of Swarm, the band banging out the concert in the theater overhead, came crashing in, ricocheting off all the mirrors and ceramic surfaces until it seemed twice as loud. But then an air hinge would close the door, and Swarm would vanish, and you could once again hear students drunk on youth and beer being funny or at least loud as they stood before the urinals.

Two of them were finding it amusing to move their hands back and forth in front of the electric eyes to make the urinals keep flushing. One exclaimed to the other, "Whattaya mean, a slut? She told me she's been re-virginated!" They both broke up over that.

"She actually said that? 'Re-virginated'?"

"Yeah! 'Re-virginated' or 'born-again virgin,' something like that!"

"Maybe she thinks that's what morning-after pills do!" They both broke up again. They had reached that stage in a college boy's evening at which all comments seem more devastatingly funny if shouted.

Urinals kept flushing, boys kept disintegrating over each other's wit, and somewhere in the long row of toilet stalls somebody was vomiting. Then the door would open and Swarm would come crashing in again.

None of this distracted the only student who at this moment stood before the row of basins. His attention was riveted upon what he saw in the mirror, which was his own fair white face. A gale was blowing in his head. He liked it. He bared his teeth. He had never quite seen them this way before. So even! So white! They vibrated from perfection. And his square jaw . . . his chin and the perfect cleft in it . . . his thick thatchy, thatchy, light-brown hair . . . his brilliant hazel eyes . . . his! Right there in the mirror--him! All at once he felt like he was a second person looking over his own shoulder. The first him was mesmerized by his own good looks. Seriously. But the second him studied the face in the mirror with detachment and objectivity before coming to the same conclusion, which was that he looked fabulous. Then the two of him inspected his upper arms where they emerged from the sleeves of his polo shirt. He turned sideways and straightened one arm to make the triceps stand out. Jacked, both hims agreed. He had never felt happier in his life.

Not only that, he was on the verge of a profound discovery. It had to do with one person looking at the world through two pairs of eyes. If only he could freeze this moment in his mind and remember it tomorrow and write it down! Tonight he couldn't, not with the ruckus that was going on inside his skull.

"Yo, Hoyt! 'Sup?"

He looked away from the mirror, and there was Vance with his head of blond hair tousled as usual. They were in the same fraternity. He had an overwhelming desire to tell Vance what he had just discovered. He opened his mouth but couldn't find the words, and nothing came out. So he turned his palms upward and smiled and shrugged.

"Lookin' good, Hoyt!" said Vance as he approached the urinals, "lookin' good!"

Hoyt knew it really meant he looked very drunk. But in his current sublime state, what difference did it make?

"Hey, Hoyt," said Vance, who now stood before a urinal, "I saw you upstairs there hittin' on that little tigbiddy! Tell the truth! You really, honestly, think she's hot?"

"Coo Uh gitta bigga boner?" said Hoyt, who was trying to say, "Could I get a bigger boner?" and vaguely realized how far off he was.

"Soundin' good, too!" said Vance. He turned away in order to pay attention to the urinal, but then looked at Hoyt once more and said with a serious tone in his voice, "You know what I think? I think you're demolished, Hoyt. I think it's time to head back while your lights are still on."

Hoyt put up an incoherent argument, but not much of one, and pretty soon they left the building.

Outside it was a mild May night with a pleasant breeze and a full moon whose light created just enough of a gloaming to reveal the singular wavelike roof of the theater, known officially here at the university as the Phipps Opera House, one of the architect Eero Saarinen's famous 1950s Modern creations. The theater's entrance, ablaze with light, cast a path of fire across a plaza and out upon a row of sycamore trees at the threshold of another of the campus' famous ornaments, the Grove. From the moment he founded Dupont University 115 years ago, Charles Dupont, no kin of the du Ponts of Delaware and much more aesthetically inclined, had envisioned an actual grove of academe through which scholars young and old might take contemplative strolls. He had commissioned the legendary landscape artist Gordon Gillette. Swaths of Gillette's genius abounded throughout the campus; but above all there was this arboreal masterpiece, the Grove. Gillette had sent sinuous paths winding through it for the contemplative strolls. But although the practice was discouraged, students often walked straight through the woods, the way Hoyt and Vance walked now beneath the brightness of a big round moon.

The fresh air and peace and quiet of the huge stands of trees began to clear Hoyt's head, or somewhat. He felt as if he were back at that blissful intersection on the graph of drunkenness at which the high has gone as high as it can go without causing the powers of reasoning and coherence to sink off the chart and get trashed. . . . the exquisite point of perfect toxic poise . . . He was convinced he could once again utter a coherent sentence and make himself understood, and the blissful gale inside his head blew on.

At first he didn't say much, because he was trying to fix that moment before the mirror in his memory as he and Vance walked through the woods toward Ladding Walk and the heart of campus. But that moment kept slipping away . . . slipping away . . . slipping away . . . and before he knew it, an entirely different notion had bubbled up into his brain. It was the Grove . . . the Grove . . . the famous Grove . . . which said Dupont . . . and made him feel Dupont in his bones, which in turn made his bones infinitely superior to the bones of everybody in America who had never gone to Dupont. "I'm a Dupont man," he said to himself. Where was the writer who would immortalize that feeling?--the exaltation that lit up his very central nervous system when he met someone and quickly worked into the conversation some seemingly offhand indication that he was in college, and the person would (inevitably) ask, "What college do you go to?" and he would say as evenly and tonelessly as possible, "Dupont," and then observe the reaction. Some, especially women, would be openly impressed. They'd smile, their faces would brighten, they'd say, "Oh! Dupont!" while others, especially men, would tense up and fight to keep their faces from revealing how impressed they were and say, "I see" or "Uhmm" or nothing at all. He wasn't sure which he enjoyed more.

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achawley, August 16, 2006 (view all comments by achawley)
This book was very poorly received by the mainstream media, and I do not necessarily agree. Yes, the book was very superficial, but that was the part that I personally enjoyed about it as it made the story easier to follow and enjoy.

For the uninitiated, the novel shows the evolution of its title character, taking the reader through the different experiences that she has in her life with fratboys, athletes, and other women. Along with dealing with social components, Wolfe also deals with the issue of race and class standings. Some of the critics complained about the novel being a lot like the college that they remember. They are right because college is not like they remember. The academic parts haven't changed, but the social components most certainly have. The flow and style of the narrative were very similar to my own personal college experience without the fraternities. Also, the discussion about race and class were very poignant, especially if you come from the "bad' side of either of those issues (full disclosure: I'm black and I'm proud).

Overall, I grew attached to the plight of Charlotte Simmons and wanted to see her succeed and be the success that she started as in her town in North Carolina. Tom Wolfe found a way to make her naive foibles lovable and that's what really makes this book special. This particular version is very daunting, but I finished it in a week without trying particularly hard, so give it a read. It's a lot better than the old guard of literary haters would make you believe.
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Product Details

ISBN:
9780312424442
Author:
Wolfe, Tom
Publisher:
Picador USA
Subject:
General
Subject:
Race relations
Subject:
Young women
Subject:
General Fiction
Subject:
Bildungsromans
Subject:
Literary
Subject:
Literature-A to Z
Copyright:
Edition Description:
Trade Paperback
Publication Date:
20050831
Binding:
TRADE PAPER
Grade Level:
General/trade
Language:
English
Pages:
752
Dimensions:
8.28 x 5.46 x 1.37 in

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I Am Charlotte Simmons: A Novel Used Trade Paper
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Product details 752 pages Picador USA - English 9780312424442 Reviews:
"Publishers Weekly Review" by , "What New York City finance was to Wolfe in the 1980s and Southern real estate in the '90s, the college campus is in this sprawling, lurid novel: a flashpoint for cultural standards and the setting for a modern parable. At elite Dupont (a fictional school based on Wolfe's research at places like Stanford and Michigan), the author unspools a standard college story with a 21st-century twist. jocks, geeks, prudes and partiers are up to their usual exploits, only now with looser sexual mores and with the aid of cell phones. Wolfe begins, as he might say, with a 'bango': two frat boys tangle with the bodyguard of a politician they've caught in a sex act. We then race through plots involving students' candy-colored interactions with each other and inside their own heads: Charlotte, a cipher and prodigy from a conservative Southern family whose initiation into dorm life Wolfe milks to much dramatic advantage; Jojo, a white basketball player struggling with race, academic guilt and job security; Hoyt, a BMOC frat boy with rage issues; Adam, a student reporter cowed by alpha males. As in Wolfe's other novels, characters typically fall into two categories: superior types felled by their own vanity and underdogs forced to rely on wiles. But what in Bonfire of the Vanities were powerful competing archetypes playing out cultural battles here seem simply thin and binary types. Wolfe's promising setup never leads to a deeper contemplation of race, sex or general hierarchies. Instead, there is a virtual recitation of facts, albeit colorful ones, with little social insight beyond the broadly obvious. (Athletes getting a free pass? The sheltered receiving rude awakenings?) Boasting casual sex and machismo-fueled violence, the novel seems intent on shocking, but little here will surprise even those well past their term-paper years. Wolfe's adrenalized prose remains on display — e.g., a basketball game seen from inside a player's head — and he weaves a story that comes alive with cinematic vividness. But, like a particular kind of survey course, readers are likely to breeze through these pages — yet find themselves with little to show for it." Publishers Weekly (Copyright 2004 Reed Business Information, Inc.)
"Review A Day" by , "Charlotte Simmons is a fat gray-and-green paperback now, and despite the assertion by Slate editor Jacob Weisberg, who wrote in the New York Times that Wolfe is fun but that no one ever rereads him, I recommend a second look. The book is brilliant, wicked, true, and, like everything Wolfe writes, thematically coherent, cunningly well plotted, and delightfully told." (read the entire Atlantic Monthly review)
"Review A Day" by , "To Wolfe's immense journalistic credit, the college experience he renders in I Am Charlotte Simmons is actually pretty accurate. The book is an amalgamation, of sorts, of Animal House, Revenge of the Nerds, PCU and Old School, minus the comic pratfalls and with a heavy dose of angst....But the problem with this particular narrow setting is that it is too familiar. Anyone who has been an undergrad in, say, the last 30 years has lived through all of this, and there's not much new to learn." (read the entire Salon.com review)
"Review" by , "[W]hat really sinks Charlotte Simmons, and makes it without a doubt Mr. Wolfe's worst novel, is the gaping failure of sociological realism at its core....The result is not even a caricature of college life, but a fantasy..."
"Review" by , "[T]iresomely generic if hyperbolic....[T]he plot of Charlotte Simmons [is] a cheap, jerry-built affair that manages the unfortunate trick of being messy and predictable at the same time."
"Review" by , "[S]ince his characters are basically laboratory animals observed in complicated though not highly evolved behaviors, Charlotte Simmons offers nothing more nourishing than a supersize plot flavored with pungent observation of manners."
"Review" by , "Charlotte's delicately drawn highs and lows give the book an unexpectedly tender heart....[R]ich, wise, absorbing and irresistible....Wolfe does things with words — exhilarating, intoxicating, impossible things — that no other writer can do."
"Review" by , "Wolfe remains a carnivorous social critic, but Charlotte Simmons is more savagery than substance."
"Review" by , "But both the novel and the spotlighted students at Dupont University...possess a sinewy vibrancy, the kooky oomph of reality, that smoother, more nuanced novels lack."
"Review" by , "A captivating tale....Wolfe can do things with words and settings that few writers are capable of matching....[S]it back and enjoy the ride."
"Review" by , "An exaggerated, overlong, overwritten doorstop..."
"Synopsis" by , Wolfe masterfully chronicles college sports, fraternities, keggers, coeds, and sex — all through the eyes of Charlotte Simmons, a bright and beautiful freshman at the fictional Dupont University.
"Synopsis" by , With his signature eye for detail, the New York Times bestselling atuhor draws on extensive observation of campuses across the country to immortalize college life in the '00s.
"Synopsis" by ,
Tom Wolfe, the master social novelist of our time, the spot-on chronicler of all things contemporary and cultural, presents a sensational new novel about life, love, and learning--or the lack of it--amid today's American colleges.

Our story unfolds at fictional Dupont University: those Olympian halls of scholarship housing the cream of America's youth, the roseate Gothic spires and manicured lawns suffused with tradition . . . Or so it appears to beautiful, brilliant Charlotte Simmons, a sheltered freshman from North Carolina. But Charlotte soon learns, to her mounting dismay, that for the upper-crust coeds of Dupont, sex, cool, and kegs trump academic achievement every time.

As Charlotte encounters the paragons of Dupont's privileged elite--her roommate, Beverly, a Groton-educated Brahmin in lusty pursuit of lacrosse players; Jojo Johanssen, the only white starting player on Dupont's godlike basketball team, whose position is threatened by a hotshot black freshman from the projects; the Young Turk of Saint Ray fraternity, Hoyt Thorpe, whose heady sense of entitlement and social domination is clinched by his accidental brawl with a bodyguard for the governor of California; and Adam Geller, one of the Millennial Mutants who run the university's "independent" newspaper and who consider themselves the last bastion of intellectual endeavor on the sex-crazed, jock-obsessed campus--she is seduced by the heady glamour of acceptance, betraying both her values and upbringing before she grasps the power of being different--and the exotic allure of her own innocence.

With his trademark satirical wit and famously sharp eye for telling detail, Wolfe draws on extensive observations at campuses across the country to immortalize the early-21st-century college-going experience.

"Synopsis" by ,
Tom Wolfe, the master social novelist of our time, the spot-on chronicler of all things contemporary and cultural, presents a sensational new novel about life, love, and learning--or the lack of it--amid today's American colleges.

Our story unfolds at fictional Dupont University: those Olympian halls of scholarship housing the cream of America's youth, the roseate Gothic spires and manicured lawns suffused with tradition . . . Or so it appears to beautiful, brilliant Charlotte Simmons, a sheltered freshman from North Carolina. But Charlotte soon learns, to her mounting dismay, that for the upper-crust coeds of Dupont, sex, cool, and kegs trump academic achievement every time.

As Charlotte encounters the paragons of Dupont's privileged elite--her roommate, Beverly, a Groton-educated Brahmin in lusty pursuit of lacrosse players; Jojo Johanssen, the only white starting player on Dupont's godlike basketball team, whose position is threatened by a hotshot black freshman from the projects; the Young Turk of Saint Ray fraternity, Hoyt Thorpe, whose heady sense of entitlement and social domination is clinched by his accidental brawl with a bodyguard for the governor of California; and Adam Geller, one of the Millennial Mutants who run the university's "independent" newspaper and who consider themselves the last bastion of intellectual endeavor on the sex-crazed, jock-obsessed campus--she is seduced by the heady glamour of acceptance, betraying both her values and upbringing before she grasps the power of being different--and the exotic allure of her own innocence.

With his trademark satirical wit and famously sharp eye for telling detail, Wolfe draws on extensive observations at campuses across the country to immortalize the early-21st-century college-going experience.

Tom Wolfe is the author of more than a dozen books, among them such contemporary classics as The Electric Kool-Aid Acid Test, The Right Stuff, The Bonfire of the Vanities, and A Man in Full. A native of Richmond, Virginia, he earned his B.A. at Washington and Lee University and a Ph.D. in American studies at Yale. Wolfe lives in New York City.
Tom Wolfe, the master social novelist of our time, the spot-on chronicler of all things contemporary and cultural, presents a sensational new novel about life, love, and learning—or the lack of it—amid today's American colleges.

Our story unfolds at fictional Dupont University: those Olympian halls of scholarship housing the cream of America's youth, the roseate Gothic spires and manicured lawns suffused with tradition . . . Or so it appears to beautiful, brilliant Charlotte Simmons, a sheltered freshman from North Carolina. But Charlotte soon learns, to her mounting dismay, that for the upper-crust coeds of Dupont, sex, Cool, and kegs trump academic achievement every time.

As Charlotte encounters the paragons of Dupont's privileged elite—her roommate, Beverly, a Groton-educated Brahmin in lusty pursuit of lacrosse players; Jojo Johanssen, the only white starting player on Dupont's godlike basketball team, whose position is threatened by a hotshot black freshman from the projects; the Young Turk of Saint Ray fraternity, Hoyt Thorpe, whose heady sense of entitlement and social domination is clinched by his accidental brawl with a bodyguard for the governor of California; and Adam Geller, one of the Millennial Mutants who run the university's "independent" newspaper and who consider themselves the last bastion of intellectual endeavor on the sex-crazed, jock-obsessed campus—she is seduced by the heady glamour of acceptance, betraying both her values and upbringing before she grasps the power of being different—and the exotic allure of her own innocence.

With his trademark satirical wit and famously sharp eye for telling detail, Wolfe draws on extensive observations at campuses across the country to immortalize the early-21st-century college-going experience.

 
Also available on CD as an audiobook, in both abridged and unabridged editions.  Please email academic@macmillan.com for more information.
"Charlotte Simmons is . . . brilliant, wicked, true, and, like everything Wolfe writes, thematically coherent, cunningly well plotted, and delightfully told . . . I Am Charlotte Simmons is so intricately imagined and carefully reported that it's no wonder the book is mistaken for social realism. It is indeed scary how close this story comes to the real world."—Mark Bowden, The Atlantic Monthly
"Most authors write about one person again and again: themselves. This can be riveting—as in the work, say, of Philip Roth or Elfriede Jelinek—as well as soporific, as in so many personal essays and mid-list memoirs. And yet it is a particularly rare achievement when an author can imaginatively empathize with as vast an array of contrary personalities as we encounter in Wolfe's work. Wolfe may live in a fancy block-long apartment on the Upper East Side, but he clearly does not stay indoors. He walks his white suit into the dark corners of American social, sexual, and criminal life and returns with an intuitive, empirical, and arresting grasp of his fellow citizens. One reviewer, faced with Wolfe's gritty portraits of prison inmates in A Man in Full, wondered if his research had involved a ten-year incarceration. Charlotte Simmons is a further extension of Wolfe's range. Both in his early nonfiction and later fiction, Wolfe has 'done' men: seven strapping astronauts in The Right Stuff, the testosterone-driven investment banker Sherman McCoy in Bonfire of the Vanities, the ex–football star Charlie Croker in A Man in Full. He has done narcissistic mayors, overachieving lawyers, and power-hungry demagogues. This time, he puts himself into the head of an 18-year-old coed, a sheltered Christian girl from the North Carolina mountains whose mother taught her to say 'I am Charlotte Simmons, and I dont hold with that' if anyone ever asks her to do something she does not want. When Charlotte arrives on the sex-crazed, alcohol-drenched, athlete-worshipping campus of Dupont, her worldview suffers some earthquakes. The result is a set of sharply observed, poignant, and often hilarious skits in which—surprisingly, given the setup—Wolfe never once stereotypes, oversimplifies, or beatifies his rural heroine. Instead, he allows her all the complexity, extreme self-consciousness, acuity, manipulativeness, and vanity he has accorded the richest of his protagonists . . . Wolfe portrays vanity, one-upmanship, and affectation with surgical precision. He is the great bard of self-consciousness. He does not, however, disdain the characters whose self-congratulations and petty envies he exposes; his eye is piercing but gentle. Charlotte may use her date, but it is not for this reason that we feel better about the way he proceeds to use her. The scene in which she loses her virginity is among the most detailed and harrowing seduction scenes ever described by a man from a woman's point of view. If Wolfe's book consisted only of this scene, it would disprove one of the more fashionable, and fallacious, literary consensuses of our day: that men cannot write for women, nor women for men. 'We're seeing the end of universality,' novelist Michael Cunningham said to general applause at a recent literary fest. 'A book that speaks to a 65-year-old white guy may actually have nothing to say to a 23-year-old Jamaican woman.' It may not—but it can. Real literature proves as much—and Tom Wolfe is real literature."—Cristina Nehring, New York magazine
 
"Charlotte Simmons . . . is brilliant, wicked, true, and, like everything Wolfe writes, thematically coherent, cunningly well plotted, and delightfully told. Certainly one factor that elevates fiction from mere 'entertainment' to even 'modest aspirant' literature is substance. Is the book about something important? Does it reward study? Is the author saying anything new? Is the work carefully crafted around a theme? . . . Charlotte is a construction, a device, one in a long and celebrated series of satirical vehicles in English literature, all the way back to Henry Fielding's Joseph Andrews. On the surface she is fragile, but underneath she is a warrior, a 'Spartan.' Charlotte is, by degrees, sucked into the campus culture. She is lured into the self-abnegating realm of Starling's neuro-science lab, which is guided by an extreme behaviorism that denies consciousness itself, and with it free will and morality. She is ravished and discarded by the novel's chief predator, and plunged into profound depression and confusion, only to rally and establish herself, mind and body. The novel's title, echoing Descartes, announces her triumph over Starling's behaviorism and the tawdry reality of Dupont. Mendelsohn completely misses the point when he describes Charlotte as having been, at the end of the book, "reduced by her own craving for 'acceptance' to being arm-candy for a famous college jock." Far from it: she has beaten back the hedonistic tide of peer pressure, escaped the soul-deadening pull of Starling's lab, and reasserted her selfhood and her moral bearings. She is said jock's girlfriend, a fact that marks her ascension to the top rung of social status on campus—always a prime Wolfean preoccupation—and she holds that distinction strictly on her own terms; she has restored the missing piece of her boyfriend's brain (turned him into a real student), and is, as Wolfe makes abundantly clear, the dominant partner in the relationship. In the distorted context of campus life, she rules. All this in her freshman year, no less . . . I Am Charlotte Simmons is so intricately imagined and carefully reported that it's no wonder the book is mistaken for social realism. It is indeed scary how close this story comes to the real world . . . Of all the writers in the world, Tom Wolfe is the last to need defending. Beneath that pale, skinny, dandified exterior is a two-fisted brawler and committed self-promoter. In his long career, he has rhetorically stuck his thumb in the eye of The New Yorker (a history that lends Updike's appraisal a tincture of tit for tat), the New Left, hippies, Black Panthers, astronauts, architects, and artists, among many others, but his longest-running battle has been with the fashionable notion of the "serious" literary novel . . . Wolfe scores for me in every category, most notably language. My own Wernicke's area has long thrilled to the surprising and inventive turns of his narration. It is a voice so distinctive that it has launched a thousand bad imitations, and it is the vibrant core of everything Wolfe writes. His exuberant experiments in punctuation are easy to ridicule, but they are not just pointless display; they are an effort to harness on the page the velocity of his rhetoric, which runs full-throttle in a continual state of intellectual astonishment."—Mark Bowden, The Atlantic Monthly
 
"Like everything Wolfe writes, I Am Charlotte Simmons grabs your interest at the outset and saps the desire to do anything else until you finish."—Jacob Weisberg, The New York Times Book Review

"Sermon, melodrama, dystopian vision—I Am Charlotte Simmons partakes of all these, and does so stunningly . . . I couldn't stop reading it—who could? This is Tom Wolfe, after all . . . Wolfe can make words dance and sing and perform circus tricks, he can make the reader sigh with pleasure before his arias of coloratura description."—Michael Dirda, The Washington Post Book World

"Wolfe takes no point of view, has no bill of goods to sell. He just calmly, coolly records the way things are, the way people look and talk . . . I don't know how the future will rank Tom Wolfe as a novelist, but he is a simply terrific journalist. Oh, sure, he exaggerates some when writing fiction to get the effects he wants; but you could put a Wolfe novel under a steel-mill press and not squeeze a single drop of sentimentality out of it. Wolfe's authorial tone to the reader is: You don't have to like this, and I'm not too crazy about it myself, but this is the way it is, and we both know it . . . What a mess our culture has gotten itself into! Here is Tom Wolfe to give you a guided tour. With some due allowance for novelist's license, he has done a brilliant job."—John Derbyshire, National Review

"A rollicking satire of college culture delivered in roaring Tom Wolfe prose . . . Charlotte Simmons [is] the most affecting protagonist Tom Wolfe has created."—Charles Foran, The Walrus

"[The book] raises some serious issues facing society and the culture of higher education."—Kale Bongers, The Dartmouth Review

"This novel is both an excoriation and a lament. It is a good read, cleverly constructed."—Cal McCrystal, The Independent

"Social satire is everywhere evident, but there is a sober theme, too, and it is very much worth paying attention to."—Harvey C. Mansfield, The Wall Street Journal

"Our pre-eminent social realist . . . trains his all-seeing eye on the institution of the American university . . .Wolfe's rhapsodic prose style finds its perfect target in academia's beer-soaked bacchanals."—Henry Alford, Newsday

"[A] hilarious, exclamation-point filled novel."—John Freeman, Time Out New York

"Wolfe is one of the greatest literary stylists and social observers of our much observed postmodern era . . . A rich, wise, absorbing and irresistible novel."—Lev Grossman, Time

"Tom Wolfe has scored a slam dunk with his . . . attention to style, the rule-bending punctuation, the deftness of slang dialogue and that biting satire."—Steve Garbarino, New York Post

"Wolfe's dialogue is some of the finest in literature, not just fast but deep. He hears the cacophony of our modern lives."—Susan Reynolds, Los Angeles Times

"A lot of fun . . . Hilarious."—Francine Prose, Los Angeles Times Book Review

"Tom Wolfe remains a peerless satirist. Alone among our fiction writers he is actively writing the human comedy, American-style, on a grand Dickensian scale."—David Lehman, Bloomberg News

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