At 26, Dom Contreras has already spent a decade jobbing through the minor leagues of professional wrestling as Hack Barlow, a 300-pound axe-swinging lumberjack. As his body breaks down and his star power fades, he must invent a new gimmick before he loses the only job he's ever known. Meanwhile, Dom's 17-year-old sister Pilar is eager to make her own pro wrestling debut. Dom is determined to keep Pilar under his wing, away from the predators of a business infamous for eating its young. At the same time, he has a vision for her meteoric rise to the top--not just of his own outfit, the middling Mid-Coast Championship Wrestling promotion outside of Charlotte, but all the way to stardom (and a big payday) in the WWE. The siblings are close, spending much of their time packed into Dom's ancient Honda Civic en route to shows across the south, but as Dom craves privacy and Pilar reckons with her brother's conflicting roles of roommate, father figure, manager and coach, their relationship quickly begins to fray. After Dom loses his temper in a match and Pilar injures herself preparing for her big tryout, Bonnie Blue, the eccentric owner of MCCW, spots an opportunity. She is poised, after years of scheming, to unveil her life's an underground, guerrilla-style pro wrestling network with bouts climaxing in real, premeditated injury. To save his career--and his sister's hopes of breaking out--Dom must become Bonnie's new star and take on the one persona he swore he'd never embrace. KAYFABE is a window into life on the fringes of a uniquely brutal American pastime and an intelligent, self-aware commentary on modern identity, artifice, and violence. In the vein of National Book Award finalist Chris Bachelder's The Throwback Special , KAYFABE explores the boundaries of sport, spectacle, entertainment, and exploitation. Like Kevin Wilson's The Family Fang , it centers a strange family seeking connection in an even stranger world. Evoking Sam Lipsyte's whip-smart humor and Lauren Oyler's biting insight, KAYFABE challenges readers to consider the truths that fakery can expose.
I bought this book because the jacket was shiny and captivating, like shimmering lycra wrestling trunks that promise a clean, tight performance of strength and self-mastery. The plot drew me in, too (if you can’t already tell): siblings who have escaped the black hole of their mother’s alcohol addiction and have found a route to freedom and self-control via pro wrestling. I found Dom and Pilar endearing and complex. Bonus: There was a coffee shop, chicken nuggets, video games, and pallets of juice boxes. But I felt extremely disappointed that the book exposed but failed to explore the true themes that surfaced: codependence, self-discipline vs. self-control, bdsm and finding connection and comfort in pain.
The one point in the book where Dom almost relinquishes control over his body, he is stopped by fear of what ugliness will pour out. The book, as a whole, felt like that to me: the author holding back the true meat of the story, out of fear of what might tumble out, and who it might take down. I guess I was scared, too, at how it felt like tip-toeing around a black hole.
It has me thinking about the spectrum of connection: Self knowledge but potential isolation on one side. Community but potential for harm or misunderstanding on the other. A middle ground of intentional connection and conversation. How do we reach the center? And each other? Through individual processing and therapy and self-celebration, by sharing our details (good, bad, potentially ugly) in small ways, making little punctures in the dams that accumulate pressure or perpetuate isolation. People can be catalysts, punching bags, parallel players, but for them to be true partners, we can’t be dams on the brink of collapse. Or empty wells without emotional needs or meaty identities.
I want a true friend for Dom. Maybe Catie if Pilar didn’t eff it up. I want Dom and Pilar to train together. Then go to therapy? I also want chicken nuggets.
I have a ton of thoughts on this one. First off, it was interesting and compelling. It takes you into the life of a pair of sibling indie wrestlers and basic follows their daily lives and journeys. There are some mentions of high profile matches and enough to pull on the nostalgia of early wrestling days that readers with an interest in professional wrestling will probably stay with this one.
Pilar was my least favorite character which is neither here nor there. Bonnie is a bit more shrewd than most promoters I've come across and I sort of dug her energy.
As for the lifestyles depicted here. I found that some of it rings true with my lived experience and some did not. Let's call wrestling a special interest. I think promotions like the one focused on here are few and far between. No one's really out there with a salaried roster or insurance unless they're higher tier promotions, like Ring of Honor was/is. Most of the indie circut will pay peanuts and expect performance. $100 and transpo is a solid pay day. I've seen green kids kill themselves for zero dollars. I've seen veterans kill themselves for $20 and free beer. It's not a glamorous life. The details about car sleeping, cramming into rooms, and curling up on venue floors certain range true. I've seen the pill swapping and swallowing happen. Most of the indie wrestlers I've come across suffer from chronic pain from years of putting their body through abuse and/or never going to the hospital for sprains, breaks, and other maladies. I don't know many who make wrestling their full-time gig, unless they're going up to big promotions. They have day jobs and dedicate their weekends to long-haul road trips, trying to pack in as many gigs as they can. I think it takes dedication and heart to chase the high even when it doesn't pay off. But, that's just my interpretation.
Check this one out of you're a wrestling fan.There's a lot to like.
I would like to thank NetGalley for giving me an audio-arc in exchange for an honest review.
I went into this expecting a really cool story about wrestling and what it means to be a wrestler. But what I got was a commentary on the tolls of being in the limelight on the mental health of a wrestler, a look at the physical pain these athletic actors put their body through, and a glimpse into what people would do to help those we care about.
We follow two main characters -- Dom, an already established wrestler of 10+ years, and his little sister Pilar who wants to make her grand debut. When she gets hurt during her audition, Dom strikes a deal with the head of a company that seals his and his sister's fate in the industry. What I really liked about this was that darker look at the behind the scenes. Yes, an underground wrestling promotion at random places probably won't be happening any time soon, but the idea that just for the fans you're willing to bleed or break is just horrifying. But the way the attention from the fans is like a drug (as described in this book) it's no wonder these wrestlers have no problem putting themselves through it all.
I wasn't a fan of Pilar, but Dom was very real and I hurt for him at times, was angry with him, and also was pissed at him. And the audiobook narrator did a great job at conveying the emotions for what was happening. Excellent read.
I guess it’s time for me to come out of the closet as a fan of professional wrestling… so fortunately I was able to understand all of the terminology used here but I wonder if it takes a decent story and makes it too niche for a wider audience.
Bonus points for one of the coolest cover designs I’ve ever seen though.
Kayfabe, the debut novel from Chris Koslowski, is a love letter to the drama of mid-tier wrestling, in and outside of the ring. Dom Contreras, playing the burly lumberjack character of Hack Barlow, contends with the future of his career while trying to introduce his little sister, Pilar, into the business. In the aftermath of a duo bout that ends with Dom breaking a competitor’s arm, which puts both his and his sister’s futures in jeopardy, Dom accepts a contract to fight in an underground circuit where the violence is real and injuries more gruesome, in hopes his sister has a chance at the spotlight.
At its heart, Kayfabe is a story about siblings, what we sacrifice for those we love. Throughout the book, we learn more about the relationship between Dom and Pilar, their alcoholic and abusive mother, and their recent reunion after being long-estranged.
Kayfabe, as the title implies, is also about how we perform the self, more obviously in as characters in the story of a wrestling match, but also in our lives: Dom must maintain his masculine suave, to cover for his insecurities about his career and dating life; Pilar, as a woman in a man-dominated sphere, must navigate not only the misogyny of her future colleagues but the uneasy alliances with other women in the biz. How does a performer protect themselves in a space where one’s body is on the line?
What’s most remarkable about this book is, perhaps, how Koslowski manages to draw the reader into the world of wrestling. This is an insider’s view of things: we’re brought backstage, plunged into the vocabulary and routines of wrestlers. The world Koslowski creates is palpable and believable, crammed with the vocabulary and routine and psychology of wrestlers, without being alienating to those (like me) who might know little-to-nothing about the sport.
Koslowski invites you into the ring, into the very body of spotlight-haloed performers, then dares you to take a punch.
Kayfabe is a literary pro wrestling novel that soars off the top rope but bumbles its finisher. The engine of Koslowski’s book is the gas-on-fire relationship between Dom Contreras, a mid-tier pro wrestler, and his sister/adopted child/protege Pillar, rescued from their drug-addled mother. By teaching her the pro wrestling ropes, Dom hopes to save his sister from their past.
The writing is good; downright excellent in places. The pacing is great without being jargon-heavy and there are delightfully weird strands woven through the text (such as a strange coffee shop from which Dom is only allowed to take used grounds).
The third act, however, wobbles. We suddenly get large swaths of exposition and some internal inconsistencies. The book’s title, combined with its last paragraphs, suggest Kayfabe's characters are themselves playing characters, that the book is winking at its audience. What that something is, I don't know. As it is, Kayfabe is a really good novel that's a hair’s width from being great.
As an avid wrestling fan, I was thrilled to receive an advance copy of "Kayfabe" by Chris Koslowski, courtesy of NetGalley. I genuinely enjoyed this book, especially how it delved into the intricacies of wrestling, using terminology that resonated with me due to my passion for the sport. However, I hoped for more development in the storyline. At times, the narrative seemed to linger too long on certain scenes, and I found myself wishing for a more dynamic and enriched plot.
Despite these moments, I still appreciated the book and the unique insights the author provided into the wrestling world. "Kayfabe" may not appeal to everyone, but it represents a genre that I believe deserves more exploration and appreciation.
I really enjoyed this book, even though it ends on a downer note. Not quite tragedy. Not quite comedy.
I've been a professional wrestling fan since my grandfather and I would set up late and watch the NWA on his old black and white television. I've always known it was fiction, though not fake because people do get hurt, so I'm not a mark.
Chris Koslowski must love professional wrestling. He knows it seemingly inside and out. Perhaps he wrestled for a small regional independent? I'd love to see an HBO miniseries treatment of this book.
Kayfabe follows two siblings, Dom and Pilar, and their experiences in regional independent wrestling (veteran and hopeful, respectively). It's very honest about the toll it takes: physical, mental. It's heavy on the jargon, so it might be a bit more difficult for readers who are less familiar with wrestling.
Thank you, Highbridge and Netgalley, for an advance audiobook in exchange for a fair review.
Chris Koslowski's Kayfabe splits the difference between the maniacal grit lit of Harry Crews and the tragicomic majesty of John Irving to tell a tough-n-tender tale of a brother and sister navigating the hilarious theatrics and brutal athleticism of the pro wrestling world: the sublime artifice and ridiculous pains, visceral thrills and mundane heartaches, the guts, glory and absurdity of it all. 8/10
I've been watching NJPW semi-regularly for the past 5 or 6 years and I've been to a handful of live events, including an indie promotion out of Philly (now defunct) where we all yelled "SCOOCH! SCOOCH! SCOOCH!" to a guy dressed up like a hermit crab. I don't know if I love wrestling or if it's just come to be loved by me because I love the people who introduced it to me (and truly madly DO love it), but I sure as shit enjoyed this book.
I really liked a lot of this book. Super interesting look into small time wrestling, interesting character development even when they were messy, and a good use of switching around POV. The pacing was just a little confusing for me. One of the bigger swings the book takes happens pretty late and resolves pretty quickly. I liked spending time with the leads, but I think it just missed being truly amazing to me.
I loved the wrestling psychology approach and loved Dom. The first two-thirds are a fun ride; however, the last third is a convoluted slog. Even with the slog, I recommend the audiobook because of the reader. For a first novel Chris does a fine job and I can't wait to see what's next. Thanks, NetGalley for the audiobook to review.
An entertaining and twisted tale about playing roles both inside and outside the context of scripted performances. It's hampered quite a bit by the fact that all three main characters are unlikeable in very different ways. No doubt this is what the author intended, but it makes it hard to bond with any of them when they are so unsympathetic. Still, it's a fun read, even if it's not great.
I was really looking for a good pro wrestling read, and while this had a lot to like, the actual wrestling stuff felt... well, that doesn't work for me, brother.
The book was well written and well narrated. The timelines were a little confusing towards the end, but my confusion may have come from me just trying to finish it. I realized I just stopped caring about the characters. Maybe other readers had strong feelings about them, but they became the equivalent of that wrestler's match you kinda watch because you're more interested in the next segment and don't want to change the channel. I wanted to see how Koslowski ended it all, and maybe my negative and then neutral feelings about the characters ultimately proved his point.