Across her slim, slick, razor-sharp takedown of Brazil's self-obsessed, silver-spooned elites, Clara Drummond stages the collision of several seemingly incongruous worlds: the favela and the filthy rich; the down-to-earth and the out-of-touch; the self-aware and the inconsiderate, the insensitive, the thoughtless.
From her very first line, Drummond's protagonist, Vivian, an art curator who has carefully arranged every facet of life to her liking - her furniture, her fashion sense, her group of friends - reveals herself as a walking, talking contradiction; the millennial manifestation of self-delusion and cognitive dissonance: "I'm a misandrist and a misogynist [...] But I'm not a misanthrope 'cause I do like gay men". Vivian, like all well-written unlikeable narrators (fans of Ottessa Moshfegh, Halle Butler, and Lauren Oyler will find much to love here) is often delightfully obnoxious, so enthralled by her performative and privileged social circle she fails to notice the harsh reality that exists just beyond its borders. But what is most impressive about the novella, aside from the expertly-chosen cultural references and the sharp, pithy turns of phrase, is that Drummond's portrait of her protagonist is still so fully fleshed out, rich with glimmers of perception. "I'm filled with a sense of grandeur", Vivian muses at one point, 'the beauty of being part of something bigger, even if that something is rotten".
A perfect, absurd, magnetic satire - reading Role Play feels like scrolling through a curated Instagram page on the cracked screen of a cellphone; like swiping a finger across something shiny, only to later find little splinters of glass buried just beneath the skin.
Thank you to NetGalley and Farrar, Straus and Giroux for this free ARC!