After American rapper Kanye West tweeted his intention to go "death con 3 on the Jewish people," humorous journalist John Safran flew to the USA, wanting to ask West some follow-up questions. Unable to find West, Safran instead broke into one of Kanye's abandoned homes and lived there for a week, trying to get inside the hip-hop star's head.
Squat is really two books smooshed together, and one of them is really good. As he wanders around the US, Safran finds a colourful bunch of rappers, rabbis and rascals to interview, including a homeless guy who was offered the position of West's campaign manager (in a typically eccentric outburst at the VMA awards, West announced his intention to run for President).
In these sections, Safran's musings on what it means to be a secular Australian Jew in 2024 are insightful and (for me) educational. Anyone who enjoyed Safran's previous books will enjoy them.
The other book, the one about Safran squatting in Kanye's house, is merely OK. Safran's gift is his willingness to ask difficult questions of dangerous people, and in the mansion (spoiler warning) there's no-one for him to talk to. He tries to keep things interesting by repeatedly putting his own life in unnecessary danger, climbing on things that shouldn't be climbed, walking around barefoot on broken glass like John McClane because he "forgot" his socks, and so forth. He also "forgets" his medication. (Not sure I buy that, Saffo.) But ultimately, Safran doesn't have much to show for all the crimes he committed (which include not only breaking and entering, but also vandalism and theft). His reflections on the ethics of his investigation never get far beyond "maybe this is unethical".
Prior to reading this book, the only thing I knew about Kanye West was that he had bipolar disorder. This goes some way towards explaining (though perhaps not excusing) his history of erratic behaviour and bigoted outbursts. As at least one Britney Spears fan has noted, if Kanye West was a woman, he would have a conservatorship by now. The story of a (by most accounts) brilliant musician with a tenuous grip on reality getting exploited and radicalised would be an interesting one, but Safran refuses to tell it, instead searching futilely for method amidst Kanye's madness. Suspiciously, Squat doesn't include any references to West's illness. Perhaps Safran guessed it would seem like punching down to break into the home and steal the belongings of a guy whose illness had cost him his marriage and most of his wealth. Then again, I might feel differently if I belonged to one of the groups that West had threatened, or if he'd stolen a microphone from me at an award ceremony. Either way, Squat was unputdownable.