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The Fun We've Had
"Michael Seidlinger is a homegrown Calvino, a humanist, and wise and darkly whimsical. His invisible cities are the spires of the sea where we all sail our coffins in search of our stories."-Steve Erickson, author of Zeroville Two lovers are adrift in a coffin on an endless sea. Who are they? They are him and her. They are you and me. They are rowing to salvage what remains of themselves. They are rowing to remember the fun we've had.
168 pages, Kindle Edition
First published May 1, 2014
7 people are currently reading
782 people want to read
About the author
Michael J. Seidlinger
32 books458 followersMICHAEL J. SEIDLINGER is the Filipino American author of The Body Harvest, Anybody Home?, and other books. He has written for, among others, Wired, Buzzfeed, Thrillist, Goodreads, The Observer, Polygon, The Believer, and Publishers Weekly. He teaches at Portland State University and has led workshops at Catapult, Kettle Pond Writer's Conference, and Sarah Lawrence. You can find him at michaeljseidlinger.com.
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Displaying 1 - 30 of 30 reviews
June 10, 2021
Rating: 6* of five
Yuletide gift-giving season...this is *perfect* 2015 gift for the smartest, wittiest person you know.
The Publisher Says: Two lovers are adrift in a coffin on an endless sea. Who are they? They are him and her. They are you and me. They are rowing to salvage what remains of themselves. They are rowing to remember the fun we've had.
My Review: The Doubleday UK meme, a book a day for July 2014, is the goad I'm using to get through my snit-based unwritten reviews. Today's prompt is to discuss a novel that surprised you.
Seidlinger is what a mating between Djuna Barnes and Samuel Beckett would've produced: Illusionless in his pessimism, joyful in his schadenfreude, and both human and humane enough to wrap his bitter pills in pretty words.
So, Michael Seidlinger. He's this guy, you know?
He wrote this book, which before we go any further down the rabbit hole let me assure you I purchased with my very own United States dollars as I am nowhere *near* hip/cool/hot/whatever enough to score an ARC, a book which by all rights he's too goddamned young to understand still less create. It's a very trenchant metaphor, He and She and the Deep Blue Sea separated, contained, bound, sustained, trapped, saved by a shared coffin. The consciousness of He and She is very much not shared, except the two are inextricable and still completely sealed off from yet bound to the experience of the other:
We mourn and grieve for Him and Her in their shared coffin, dead, living only in separate minds that are contained within a final resting place tossed on a restless expanse of endlessness.
Ghosts in the sea, all of us, whispering ghosts, the sea's physical voice a subsonic boom of waves crashing and moving the plates of the earth's crust a micron or two, and whispering "the end" to the living, "no end" to the dead, and "Hello Kitty" to the Japanese.
Yuletide gift-giving season...this is *perfect* 2015 gift for the smartest, wittiest person you know.
The Publisher Says: Two lovers are adrift in a coffin on an endless sea. Who are they? They are him and her. They are you and me. They are rowing to salvage what remains of themselves. They are rowing to remember the fun we've had.
My Review: The Doubleday UK meme, a book a day for July 2014, is the goad I'm using to get through my snit-based unwritten reviews. Today's prompt is to discuss a novel that surprised you.
Seidlinger is what a mating between Djuna Barnes and Samuel Beckett would've produced: Illusionless in his pessimism, joyful in his schadenfreude, and both human and humane enough to wrap his bitter pills in pretty words.
He wasn't at all sure this was excitement, but at least for now, the glimpsing of something else, something, anything, was enough to keep the momentum, the same momentum that seemed to outline his days. What might have been a lazy, relaxing Saturday became a cause for adventure, a curious matching between him and her, their search to be out, on the city, the town, so as to stave off being on the outs with each other.
That's what it is, was, and will always be.
Nothing would change. Nothing is wrong.
This is just another adventure. New thrill.
"Are we having fun?"
Of course they are. When every feeling is time-stamped and the life you lead becomes the life you led, there cannot be a whole lot more to do except admit right from wrong.
So, Michael Seidlinger. He's this guy, you know?
He wrote this book, which before we go any further down the rabbit hole let me assure you I purchased with my very own United States dollars as I am nowhere *near* hip/cool/hot/whatever enough to score an ARC, a book which by all rights he's too goddamned young to understand still less create. It's a very trenchant metaphor, He and She and the Deep Blue Sea separated, contained, bound, sustained, trapped, saved by a shared coffin. The consciousness of He and She is very much not shared, except the two are inextricable and still completely sealed off from yet bound to the experience of the other:
Touch being only touch, both of them imagining the warmth that would have been shared if their bodies had been bodies alive and still able to be repaired, they lay there like it had been a bed and not a coffin. The final end.
Not yet.
No.
Not yet, she fought the ghosts.
They reminded her. Tell him. Tell him.
She would tell him. Later.
"Later" arrived and left and returned once more. Still, she wouldn't tell him.
We mourn and grieve for Him and Her in their shared coffin, dead, living only in separate minds that are contained within a final resting place tossed on a restless expanse of endlessness.
Ghosts in the sea, all of us, whispering ghosts, the sea's physical voice a subsonic boom of waves crashing and moving the plates of the earth's crust a micron or two, and whispering "the end" to the living, "no end" to the dead, and "Hello Kitty" to the Japanese.
March 22, 2014
I don't think it's any fun when an author shamelessly gives his book five stars but I'm still going to do it.
May 26, 2017
It has been a long time since I've read a book that moved me this deeply. Though the story and its structure are both unusual and unconventional, the feelings and the underlying truths that are ultimately revealed are universal. This is a look into the core of existence and our ties to those for whom we live. It is an ocean in flux; one that begs to be explored. Highest recommendations.
August 2, 2018
This is my first experience with Seidlinger and wow, was it interesting! If you don't know the author, you can think of him as the Samuel Beckett of novelists. This novel is not standard fare, nor will it excite readers who are looking for plot, character arc, and action. It's more of a meditation about the human condition, the passing of love, and the passing of life.
A man and a woman are adrift in an infinite sea floating in a coffin. Well, right there you know the author is not talking about something literal. This book has nothing to do with people surviving the open seas. In fact, the people are dead. In this book the literal is unreal, and what is real is the metaphorical condition of being alive, being anchored to death, and love dying between people. They're not really people. They're called Him and Her, meaning, like in allegorical medieval plays, Him and Her are Everyone. The infinite sea makes them minuscule (meaningless), where there is nowhere to go because there is nowhere to go--the ocean is life, or death, or both. Yet, in this meaningless nothingness, they bale water out of the boat because they don't want it to sink; they want to hang onto what little they have.
The title of the book comes from the refrain, "Are we having fun?" The characters decide that there is no meaning in existence so the best they can expect from life is to have a lot of fun moments. But the constant repetition of the phrase only emphasizes how much time is spent not having fun. So, the characters believe, we are in a meaningless existence that is not fun enough, where love is doomed, and yet it's hard to let go because of a murky beyond.
The strength of the book is the writing style, which is pithy, disarming, and wry. You will enjoy this novel if you enjoy contemplating what it means to be human and alive. If you're looking for diversion or being swept away by dramatic narrative, you won't like this novel. Think of Waiting for Godot. The entire play stays in one moment: waiting for someone (God) who never comes. In this moment of waiting, however, you get in touch with the experience of waiting, why we wait, why we want Godot to come, what the experience is of him not coming, and the yearning and hope that remain. This novel is similar. It is not The Old Man and the Sea.
Again, the writing in places is spectacular. I suggest you read the first several pages to see if the book fits your appetite. I loved being in an existentialist universe that had almost nothing to do with reality, where the characters experience and experiment with what it is to be alive. Every beautiful phrase that appears to have a literal meaning is always loaded with a metaphysical one. So, the book is rich in metaphor. It's very poor in plot. 163 pages was enough for this meditation. It leaves you in that existential nothingness that stays with you. If you're looking for something different to read, this is it.
A man and a woman are adrift in an infinite sea floating in a coffin. Well, right there you know the author is not talking about something literal. This book has nothing to do with people surviving the open seas. In fact, the people are dead. In this book the literal is unreal, and what is real is the metaphorical condition of being alive, being anchored to death, and love dying between people. They're not really people. They're called Him and Her, meaning, like in allegorical medieval plays, Him and Her are Everyone. The infinite sea makes them minuscule (meaningless), where there is nowhere to go because there is nowhere to go--the ocean is life, or death, or both. Yet, in this meaningless nothingness, they bale water out of the boat because they don't want it to sink; they want to hang onto what little they have.
The title of the book comes from the refrain, "Are we having fun?" The characters decide that there is no meaning in existence so the best they can expect from life is to have a lot of fun moments. But the constant repetition of the phrase only emphasizes how much time is spent not having fun. So, the characters believe, we are in a meaningless existence that is not fun enough, where love is doomed, and yet it's hard to let go because of a murky beyond.
The strength of the book is the writing style, which is pithy, disarming, and wry. You will enjoy this novel if you enjoy contemplating what it means to be human and alive. If you're looking for diversion or being swept away by dramatic narrative, you won't like this novel. Think of Waiting for Godot. The entire play stays in one moment: waiting for someone (God) who never comes. In this moment of waiting, however, you get in touch with the experience of waiting, why we wait, why we want Godot to come, what the experience is of him not coming, and the yearning and hope that remain. This novel is similar. It is not The Old Man and the Sea.
Again, the writing in places is spectacular. I suggest you read the first several pages to see if the book fits your appetite. I loved being in an existentialist universe that had almost nothing to do with reality, where the characters experience and experiment with what it is to be alive. Every beautiful phrase that appears to have a literal meaning is always loaded with a metaphysical one. So, the book is rich in metaphor. It's very poor in plot. 163 pages was enough for this meditation. It leaves you in that existential nothingness that stays with you. If you're looking for something different to read, this is it.
August 1, 2014
There’s just something about the image on the front jacket of this novel that spoke to me. Those two hapless fuckers in that coffin, overwhelmingly surrounded by all that blue water, the title juxtaposed on top, THE FUN WE’VE HAD...
What the fuck is this book all about then?
Well, the cover and conceit basically comprise the entire plot: A nameless man and woman, in a coffin, floating on an endless ocean. That’s about it. That’s all that happens. Sound boring? It’s not.
The book is split into five sections, each loosely concerning one of the five stages of grief, and the narrative focus changes every couple of pages between the main (only) characters, Him and Her. Although, almost immediately, the lines between these two people are blurred. The two lovers alone in this “life” boat are so entrenched in each other, that they are literally becoming each other, both physically and narratively. Now, this isn’t a Freak-Friday type body-swap that’s happening. This book isn’t about “shenanigans”. This, along with everything else that happens in here, is highly allegorical. They swap bodies because, when you’re in a relationship, you can see yourself reflected in your partner - and then, when there is nothing left between the two of you besides the endless ocean, all your flaws come bubbling to the surface like shark fins and jellyfish and all the other horrors of the deep.
Needless to say, it’s a dense read. But also, it’s not. Seidlinger writes with a highly affected and poetic style. It’s comma heavy, and each sentence carries with it the weight of a jumbo jet, but despite that, there is still an airiness to the prose. Perhaps it’s the short paragraphs - or maybe the short chapters – but it not only keeps the story moving, but keeps the subject matter from getting too morose. The ebb and flow of this story feel almost as if it were the ocean itself. The hopeful and the tragic, spliced into a bumpy narrative, are the waves these characters must survive.
As for the plot, there are no surprises here. No twists or turns. You know how this will end from page one. Perhaps that is what is so haunting about this book. The inevitability of it all. The demise of their relationship is told through a metaphor for the ultimate demise: death. And the search for meaning in their predicament is delivered throughout, by one of the few words actually spoken aloud by a single character - first as a mindless mantra repeated in jest, which is later revealed as the only real truth.
Intriguing, right? Just keep in mind, this book isn’t “light” reading. It’s a challenge. A mirror. An ocean in itself. It’s introspective and existential and poignant. It’s necessary and ugly. If you can’t see yourself in these pages, then you’re not looking hard enough. Or maybe you don’t want to. Life isn’t about having fun. Or is it?
What the fuck is this book all about then?
Well, the cover and conceit basically comprise the entire plot: A nameless man and woman, in a coffin, floating on an endless ocean. That’s about it. That’s all that happens. Sound boring? It’s not.
The book is split into five sections, each loosely concerning one of the five stages of grief, and the narrative focus changes every couple of pages between the main (only) characters, Him and Her. Although, almost immediately, the lines between these two people are blurred. The two lovers alone in this “life” boat are so entrenched in each other, that they are literally becoming each other, both physically and narratively. Now, this isn’t a Freak-Friday type body-swap that’s happening. This book isn’t about “shenanigans”. This, along with everything else that happens in here, is highly allegorical. They swap bodies because, when you’re in a relationship, you can see yourself reflected in your partner - and then, when there is nothing left between the two of you besides the endless ocean, all your flaws come bubbling to the surface like shark fins and jellyfish and all the other horrors of the deep.
Needless to say, it’s a dense read. But also, it’s not. Seidlinger writes with a highly affected and poetic style. It’s comma heavy, and each sentence carries with it the weight of a jumbo jet, but despite that, there is still an airiness to the prose. Perhaps it’s the short paragraphs - or maybe the short chapters – but it not only keeps the story moving, but keeps the subject matter from getting too morose. The ebb and flow of this story feel almost as if it were the ocean itself. The hopeful and the tragic, spliced into a bumpy narrative, are the waves these characters must survive.
As for the plot, there are no surprises here. No twists or turns. You know how this will end from page one. Perhaps that is what is so haunting about this book. The inevitability of it all. The demise of their relationship is told through a metaphor for the ultimate demise: death. And the search for meaning in their predicament is delivered throughout, by one of the few words actually spoken aloud by a single character - first as a mindless mantra repeated in jest, which is later revealed as the only real truth.
Intriguing, right? Just keep in mind, this book isn’t “light” reading. It’s a challenge. A mirror. An ocean in itself. It’s introspective and existential and poignant. It’s necessary and ugly. If you can’t see yourself in these pages, then you’re not looking hard enough. Or maybe you don’t want to. Life isn’t about having fun. Or is it?
March 30, 2014
I'm beginning to feel like The Fun We've Had was written specifically for me. Figuratively speaking. Seidlinger is adept at camouflaging a feeling, a doubt, a fear, painting over it with metaphor and as it hides there, it knows you can see it but continues to hide. He has nailed here what happens when you're infected with love for another individual. And there is no 'us' in this novel. There is only 'they', 'he', 'she', that's all it ever really is. Next time despair hits, this book could very well be my shield.
I don't remember him ever specifying the girl's connection to the older man as they float in the coffin. Ultimately, I don't think it matters as much as it would in a conventional, linear plot. The two of them are emblematic of a much larger condition: a man who needs to consistently martyr himself in order to feel whole, to prove his devotion, and a young woman who requires distraction from her secrets, as well as sanctity for said secrets. Anyone who's ever been in love, picture you and that special someone floating along in that coffin on an endless body of water. Those sharks circling are everything that endangers and corrupts modern relationships.
This is the male ego laid bare, dissected and disseminated with surgical precision. At the same time, the female ego is ever shifting. Two opposite forces pulled together, forced apart, static cling, yin/yang, compulsion and repulsion.
Every page contains at least three gems that drive home just how hard people work to remain a mystery to themselves and others. We are forever grasping at straws of ourselves. As Seidlinger points out in the epilogue, entitled 'Our Turn': 'We seek the peaks in hopes of pleasing the fact that we thought we were, for a time, an individual among individuals. Though we may, though we might, the waves are purely that - temporary and fleeting, no matter how high.'
Jodorowsky said as much, that people believe they are their experiences forever, but what happened to you a moment ago is like a snapshot while you have already exceeded the lifespan of that single frame.
It was so important for Michael to set the two characters in a coffin adrift on the sea, The coffin for obvious reasons and the sea because it neither offered nor allowed any objects or non-sequiturs to muddle their own mediation.
It seems unwise, maybe even risky until you realize that Hemingway did the same with old Man and the Sea, and that was with just one character as an island to himself. With this, Seidlinger has rewritten it as The Young Woman, the Old Man and the Sea. I have to thank him for puzzling this story out. Anyone who's ever cared about anyone, be it romantic love or paternal love, or even men who suffer from the dreaded White Knight Syndrome, or women who turn their self hatred into fashionable chic, use this book as your shield.
I don't remember him ever specifying the girl's connection to the older man as they float in the coffin. Ultimately, I don't think it matters as much as it would in a conventional, linear plot. The two of them are emblematic of a much larger condition: a man who needs to consistently martyr himself in order to feel whole, to prove his devotion, and a young woman who requires distraction from her secrets, as well as sanctity for said secrets. Anyone who's ever been in love, picture you and that special someone floating along in that coffin on an endless body of water. Those sharks circling are everything that endangers and corrupts modern relationships.
This is the male ego laid bare, dissected and disseminated with surgical precision. At the same time, the female ego is ever shifting. Two opposite forces pulled together, forced apart, static cling, yin/yang, compulsion and repulsion.
Every page contains at least three gems that drive home just how hard people work to remain a mystery to themselves and others. We are forever grasping at straws of ourselves. As Seidlinger points out in the epilogue, entitled 'Our Turn': 'We seek the peaks in hopes of pleasing the fact that we thought we were, for a time, an individual among individuals. Though we may, though we might, the waves are purely that - temporary and fleeting, no matter how high.'
Jodorowsky said as much, that people believe they are their experiences forever, but what happened to you a moment ago is like a snapshot while you have already exceeded the lifespan of that single frame.
It was so important for Michael to set the two characters in a coffin adrift on the sea, The coffin for obvious reasons and the sea because it neither offered nor allowed any objects or non-sequiturs to muddle their own mediation.
It seems unwise, maybe even risky until you realize that Hemingway did the same with old Man and the Sea, and that was with just one character as an island to himself. With this, Seidlinger has rewritten it as The Young Woman, the Old Man and the Sea. I have to thank him for puzzling this story out. Anyone who's ever cared about anyone, be it romantic love or paternal love, or even men who suffer from the dreaded White Knight Syndrome, or women who turn their self hatred into fashionable chic, use this book as your shield.
January 10, 2025
"Are we having fun?"
The Fun We've Had tells the story of two characters. The narrative ebbs and flows from his turn to her turn and so on, reminding us of the ocean they're sailing on.
The book is divided into five parts, each rendering a specific part of their journey. The last one is a punch and it left me on the spot, truly moved by what I had read. This book will haunt me for some time.
"Janie, I had fun reading it thanks to you" 😜
The Fun We've Had tells the story of two characters. The narrative ebbs and flows from his turn to her turn and so on, reminding us of the ocean they're sailing on.
The book is divided into five parts, each rendering a specific part of their journey. The last one is a punch and it left me on the spot, truly moved by what I had read. This book will haunt me for some time.
"Janie, I had fun reading it thanks to you" 😜
May 27, 2014
I finished this book several weeks ago and it continues to haunt me like voices calling out from the waves.
November 25, 2015
If you want a slow paced break-up book that takes place in a coffin in the middle of a metaphoric ocean and has a beautiful writing style, then this book is for you.
November 10, 2015
A dynamic and unique read, as I have come to expect from Seidlinger. Beautifully written in a sometimes disorienting style of prose, the premise is that a male and female as couple float indefinitely in a coffin in the middle of an endless ocean. Waves and the sharks are present as the voices of history's lovers and reminders of the demise, respectively.
We move through all real aspects of a long term relationship, fleshed out with no buffer here to make them easy to swallow: the balance of give and take, guilt and entitlement, the ebb and flow of emotional proximity to each other, the burden we can be on each other, and much more. The egos and/or identities of each are explored in depth, male as the hero, and female as a more complex component, intermittently waiting for him to catch up as he denies the lack of progress. Most of the thoughts and feelings are exchanged non-verbally, as verbal communication between the two relies mainly on the two phrases "I love you." and "Are we having fun?" Throughout all of what is happening, there is no ignoring the beauty and poignancy that lies within the pages. There is a flow to the words that makes it a pleasure to read, all things considered.
To wrap it up before I say too much, this story will stick with me for a long time. A well done addition to the catalog from Seidlinger.
We move through all real aspects of a long term relationship, fleshed out with no buffer here to make them easy to swallow: the balance of give and take, guilt and entitlement, the ebb and flow of emotional proximity to each other, the burden we can be on each other, and much more. The egos and/or identities of each are explored in depth, male as the hero, and female as a more complex component, intermittently waiting for him to catch up as he denies the lack of progress. Most of the thoughts and feelings are exchanged non-verbally, as verbal communication between the two relies mainly on the two phrases "I love you." and "Are we having fun?" Throughout all of what is happening, there is no ignoring the beauty and poignancy that lies within the pages. There is a flow to the words that makes it a pleasure to read, all things considered.
To wrap it up before I say too much, this story will stick with me for a long time. A well done addition to the catalog from Seidlinger.
May 10, 2014
I never know what I'm walking into when I pick up a new Seidlinger work. Every book is something different, something new. One thing I can trust at this point, though, is that I'm going to dig it. The patterns of personality that are clung to in context where they have no reason, if they ever did. The things that don't matter and are only relevant in the fact that their irrelevance must be recognized. This book is unsettling in an entirely different way, an unmoored way. Get ready to try to keep it from running through your hands long enough to hold and as if we're having fun.
October 26, 2014
So reading this the first time was a bit tricky. There were lofty expectations, grandeur could sort of be seen peeking around corners distantly off. My friend spoke highly of it - said we had a lot in common, or at least w/r/t the things that mattered. But I also read suspiciously, always expecting some ulterior motive. I would read between lines. I would assume intent everywhere. If the book said something about "characters" or "plot", I would derive some convoluted meta-meaning from it and let that distract me for the next dozen-or-so pages. I was bored by about page 60, but then I was reinvigorated later on - although this mostly had to do with the sharks. The ending didn't quite align with expectations and I guessed I had missed something crucial. I was very nearly devastated. Of course, I hadn't really been listening. The first go-round, it had been about me; what I had wanted it to say. What I needed it to say in order to validate what I had originally expected from it. The second read, though, I let it speak. I paid attention. I seemed to get it. There was ultimately some legitimate reverb between it and I. Thankfully it's a book and so it afforded me this opportunity all again. And from it I learned that this is not typically the case.
June 21, 2014
Read 6/9/14 - 6/11/14
3 Stars - Recommended to readers who prefer allegorical, non linear, reflective literature
Pages: 168
Publisher: Lazy Fascist Press
Released: May 2014
Lazy Fascist, my friend, I love you, but sometimes your choice of literature confuses me. I'm not saying there is anything wrong with this book. But. I mean. Well, there's something a little not-quite-you about it. It's definitely less bizarre than your usual fare and far more out-of-body than I'm used to from you. If that makes sense. To be honest, though, I do find it interesting that Michael J Seidlinger's writing shares similarities to the likes of Blake Butler and JA Tyler, both of whom you've published in the past. So maybe, now that I think about it, this type of book is more common to your catalog than I give you credit for? And I've just managed to read around it this whole time? Huh. Looks like I just talked myself into a big fat circle right there. Uhm. Ok. Moving on...
So I crack open The Fun We've Had - or, uhm, rather, I slide the pages from right to left on my smartphone - and begin to read about a 'he and she' who're paddling around the great wide ocean in a coffin. They are in love, were in love, will be in love once more, bicker and ignore one another, borrow one another's bodies, and move through the endless waters in a numbing humdrum of internal contemplation. They are each other's protector and rejector, judge and jury. They cannot escape one another, nor do they seem to want to. They harbor heavy guilt and concern for one another. Each exudes forgiveness while refusing to forget, and this inability to let go is what we begin to realize has been keeping them both afloat.
Seidlinger breaks the book out into chapters that resemble the various stages of grief - Anger, Fear, Acceptance, etc. The 'him' and the 'her' take turns sharing their viewpoints through that chapter's specific filter, divulging their side of the relationship as they "row", intimating their idea of where they are and why they are there, and how they might get themselves out of their strange and worrisome predicament. As they accuse (whether outwardly or inwardly) the coffin takes on water and they must work together to avoid it slipping beneath the waves. When the rain that falls upon them turns acidic, one scurries to protect the other.
At one point in the book, they move into each other's bodies and see themselves through the other's eyes - how they've let themselves go, how they've aged ungracefully - and little by little, as they acknowledge and accept portions of the other, they give the bits of their bodies back. At another point, the woman's mother floats up to their coffin out of nowhere and moves away again. All the while, they ask themselves and each other "are we having fun?"
Throughout the rotating chapters, we begin to piece together a moment, or series of moments, that took place in the couple's past, the catalyst that most likely influenced their current situation. And I'm afraid if I go any further I may just ruin the book for you - assuming I am spot-on with my assumption of what has been taking place throughout the entire book and am not completely off base or reading into something that is not there.
On the surface, The Fun We've Had appears to be a quick read but you'll soon discover how deceiving it is. Yes, at face value, it's a dissection of relationships. It's a call to arms for love and the fear of losing love, a look at the lengths we go to in order to never let go, to fight the final goodbye, and everyone who reads it is guaranteed to find themselves reflected in some way, some shape, some form, within its words.
But if you're like me, you'll find yourself stopping more and more often between character rotations to digest what has just been thrown at you. Like the sting of cold water splashed unexpectedly at your face, Seidlinger excels at tucking his meanings between the lines, lulling you to sleep with his prose, only to jolt you awake again with a statement or confession that causes you to look back at what you've just read through newer, more aware eyes.
This book is certainly not for everyone. Its style and structure will be an immediate turn off for those who prefer the more standard and linear forms of story telling. If you get a thrill out of reading books that pull you out of your comfort zone, that leave you questioning what exactly is taking place, then go on and grab this one. I'd be curious to see if you came to the same conclusion I did.
3 Stars - Recommended to readers who prefer allegorical, non linear, reflective literature
Pages: 168
Publisher: Lazy Fascist Press
Released: May 2014
Lazy Fascist, my friend, I love you, but sometimes your choice of literature confuses me. I'm not saying there is anything wrong with this book. But. I mean. Well, there's something a little not-quite-you about it. It's definitely less bizarre than your usual fare and far more out-of-body than I'm used to from you. If that makes sense. To be honest, though, I do find it interesting that Michael J Seidlinger's writing shares similarities to the likes of Blake Butler and JA Tyler, both of whom you've published in the past. So maybe, now that I think about it, this type of book is more common to your catalog than I give you credit for? And I've just managed to read around it this whole time? Huh. Looks like I just talked myself into a big fat circle right there. Uhm. Ok. Moving on...
So I crack open The Fun We've Had - or, uhm, rather, I slide the pages from right to left on my smartphone - and begin to read about a 'he and she' who're paddling around the great wide ocean in a coffin. They are in love, were in love, will be in love once more, bicker and ignore one another, borrow one another's bodies, and move through the endless waters in a numbing humdrum of internal contemplation. They are each other's protector and rejector, judge and jury. They cannot escape one another, nor do they seem to want to. They harbor heavy guilt and concern for one another. Each exudes forgiveness while refusing to forget, and this inability to let go is what we begin to realize has been keeping them both afloat.
Seidlinger breaks the book out into chapters that resemble the various stages of grief - Anger, Fear, Acceptance, etc. The 'him' and the 'her' take turns sharing their viewpoints through that chapter's specific filter, divulging their side of the relationship as they "row", intimating their idea of where they are and why they are there, and how they might get themselves out of their strange and worrisome predicament. As they accuse (whether outwardly or inwardly) the coffin takes on water and they must work together to avoid it slipping beneath the waves. When the rain that falls upon them turns acidic, one scurries to protect the other.
At one point in the book, they move into each other's bodies and see themselves through the other's eyes - how they've let themselves go, how they've aged ungracefully - and little by little, as they acknowledge and accept portions of the other, they give the bits of their bodies back. At another point, the woman's mother floats up to their coffin out of nowhere and moves away again. All the while, they ask themselves and each other "are we having fun?"
Throughout the rotating chapters, we begin to piece together a moment, or series of moments, that took place in the couple's past, the catalyst that most likely influenced their current situation. And I'm afraid if I go any further I may just ruin the book for you - assuming I am spot-on with my assumption of what has been taking place throughout the entire book and am not completely off base or reading into something that is not there.
On the surface, The Fun We've Had appears to be a quick read but you'll soon discover how deceiving it is. Yes, at face value, it's a dissection of relationships. It's a call to arms for love and the fear of losing love, a look at the lengths we go to in order to never let go, to fight the final goodbye, and everyone who reads it is guaranteed to find themselves reflected in some way, some shape, some form, within its words.
But if you're like me, you'll find yourself stopping more and more often between character rotations to digest what has just been thrown at you. Like the sting of cold water splashed unexpectedly at your face, Seidlinger excels at tucking his meanings between the lines, lulling you to sleep with his prose, only to jolt you awake again with a statement or confession that causes you to look back at what you've just read through newer, more aware eyes.
This book is certainly not for everyone. Its style and structure will be an immediate turn off for those who prefer the more standard and linear forms of story telling. If you get a thrill out of reading books that pull you out of your comfort zone, that leave you questioning what exactly is taking place, then go on and grab this one. I'd be curious to see if you came to the same conclusion I did.
January 16, 2015
Seidlinger’s stark, lyrical work is like a dream dialogue between Jean Paul Sartre and Samuel Beckett, filtered through the voice of the Good Witch Glinda. A coffin floats on a desolate and sometimes blood-stained sea. There is occasional land in sight. There are occasional ghosts. There are inevitably sharks. The coffin is occupied by the strangely split consciousness of two lovers in borrowed bodies unable or unwilling to let go of the uncertain fun they’ve had, or relinquish an intimacy as irretrievable and unpredictable as the infinite. As the ocean itself. You should have seen the one that got away.
Seidlinger is as prolific as he is ambitious. I read his previous novel, The Laughter of Strangers on my defective kindle, which presented as a glitch that spliced one or more of the books in my library together, so that at various times passages from Sam Pink’s Rontel would appear instead and it was several chapters before I realized that I was reading some fab fusion between the two. The Fun We’ve Had pushes the boundaries of the novel, but Seidlinger’s aphoristic charm and beautifully rendered human moments—on page 50 for instance we have the ellipse memorably personified—make it feel less like an experiment in alienation than a heartfelt attempt to piece together something lost.
Broken up into discreet sections, ‘pieces missing, yet understood’ following the five stages of grief—Denial, Anger, Bargaining, Fear and Acceptance—each chapter signalling another turn of the Kharmic wheel, The Fun We’ve Had is a hypnotic meditation not just on love, death and letting go, but also on life—that of the body and of the everlasting mind.
Seidlinger is as prolific as he is ambitious. I read his previous novel, The Laughter of Strangers on my defective kindle, which presented as a glitch that spliced one or more of the books in my library together, so that at various times passages from Sam Pink’s Rontel would appear instead and it was several chapters before I realized that I was reading some fab fusion between the two. The Fun We’ve Had pushes the boundaries of the novel, but Seidlinger’s aphoristic charm and beautifully rendered human moments—on page 50 for instance we have the ellipse memorably personified—make it feel less like an experiment in alienation than a heartfelt attempt to piece together something lost.
Really he was just some guy who had chased foolish ideas, received a modicum of success from a small group of peers, and let himself fall over the deep end after they had told him that he might not be full of shit.
Broken up into discreet sections, ‘pieces missing, yet understood’ following the five stages of grief—Denial, Anger, Bargaining, Fear and Acceptance—each chapter signalling another turn of the Kharmic wheel, The Fun We’ve Had is a hypnotic meditation not just on love, death and letting go, but also on life—that of the body and of the everlasting mind.
July 31, 2014
OMG. Yes. Just yes.
Read
August 1, 2014http://www.full-stop.net/2014/07/31/r...
Review by Gabino Iglesias
Michael J. Seidlinger is one of those chameleonic writers who reinvent themselves for each book. With The Laughter of Strangers, his previous release with Lazy Fascist Press, he delivered a radical narrative in which a third omni-everything voice served as conscience, conspirator, and antagonist. After that effort, it would’ve been understandable if his next novel reverted to a more standard and less demanding format. That didn’t happen. Instead, The Fun We’ve Had, Seidlinger’s latest, is a story that pushes the boundaries of what fiction can achieve within a very limited microcosm and with only two characters.
In The Fun We’ve Had, two lovers, one an older man and the other a very young woman, are stuck in a coffin, floating aimlessly on an endless sea. They come from a place they can’t remember, have no names, are unsure of their destination, and their existence hangs somewhere between life and death. There’s no time, and space is meaningless, so the lovers only have their thoughts, each other, and whatever their love has morphed into in this strange place. They acquire a purpose as the relationship begins to crumble: to try to salvage themselves and each other as they row all the way to whatever comes next.
Read more here: http://www.full-stop.net/2014/07/31/r...
Review by Gabino Iglesias
Michael J. Seidlinger is one of those chameleonic writers who reinvent themselves for each book. With The Laughter of Strangers, his previous release with Lazy Fascist Press, he delivered a radical narrative in which a third omni-everything voice served as conscience, conspirator, and antagonist. After that effort, it would’ve been understandable if his next novel reverted to a more standard and less demanding format. That didn’t happen. Instead, The Fun We’ve Had, Seidlinger’s latest, is a story that pushes the boundaries of what fiction can achieve within a very limited microcosm and with only two characters.
In The Fun We’ve Had, two lovers, one an older man and the other a very young woman, are stuck in a coffin, floating aimlessly on an endless sea. They come from a place they can’t remember, have no names, are unsure of their destination, and their existence hangs somewhere between life and death. There’s no time, and space is meaningless, so the lovers only have their thoughts, each other, and whatever their love has morphed into in this strange place. They acquire a purpose as the relationship begins to crumble: to try to salvage themselves and each other as they row all the way to whatever comes next.
Read more here: http://www.full-stop.net/2014/07/31/r...
September 17, 2014
the fun we've had, offers, as a metaphor, a couple lost at sea floating in a coffin. their surroundings and the various threats the occupy that metaphor stand in for the tribulations of real life closeness and mergings of identities and the general slings and arrows of being part of a real relationship, where two people feel very intensely. while clever and at times, including the final moments, extraordinarily moving, the postmodern bag of tricks keeps the metaphor from ever feeling totally real, which keeps the reader (or me, anyway) at arm's length with respect to appreciating the drama of the situation.
May 31, 2015
Though the book is short and some pages aren't completely full, this book has a lot in it. Definitely be sure you're paying close attention as you're reading it. I'm not sure I would say the book is fun, or that I enjoyed it, but I would say that reading it was a good experience. Seidlinger makes you think about life, death, relationships, and does it while creating a strong fantasy with a clever story about two people taking turns on a coffin at sea.
January 20, 2015
If you look real close you will see the hidden meanings deep in the ocean. If you have trouble seeing them the sharks, sun, rain and sting rays will remind you. Love the cover. Not what I expected and am happy to say I'm glad to not have expected this great book.
November 27, 2015
Heart-breaking and powerful--yet an elixir for the broken heart. A rare experience to be had in life it is, to die so completely and live again and again
July 13, 2017
Metaphysical, philosophical novella about purgatory. It was fun to read something different, but I didn't love it.
This was my pick for the Read Harder 2017 Challenge Micropress category.
This was my pick for the Read Harder 2017 Challenge Micropress category.
January 4, 2015
Michael J. Seidlinger's The Fun We've Had is part Faulkner's As I Lay Dying, part Barthelme's The Dead Father, and part something completely its own. This is meta-fiction at its finest. It's not over written or dead set on leading the reader through a pseudo-intellectual journey. Instead, Seidlinger engulfs the reader into the story of these characters to the point we realize we aren't reading fiction at all. This is a story of all our relationships, all our dreams, all our struggles, all our lives, all our deaths. Seidlinger uses every word and every space of the page with such skill that it's impossible not to have fun even as we wonder about the meaning of it all. It's books like this that help us stay afloat.
August 16, 2014
Sweet concept, but didn't really feel the weight of the relationship in that most of the emotion was buried in an unnecessarily elaborate writing style.
March 25, 2015
I guess I didn't really understand it.
August 25, 2023
Michael Seidlinger's novel takes place in the middle of a desolate ocean. Two lovers are stuck in a coffin. Frightened by sharks, they recall their shared lives. There was love and hate and strange bodies that carried them through. I'd literally gasped for air while reading. The intensity was that great. The point of the novel is unknown - a great empty nothingness. Which happens to be a fitting allegory for this life. What does it all mean?
July 17, 2019
I’m not the type of person to ask for reviews. Books are complicated because we live with them for weeks or months.
I liked what the author is getting at. It’s an examination of relationships.
I think it makes sense. It’s very honest of two people and the relationship between.
I liked what the author is getting at. It’s an examination of relationships.
I think it makes sense. It’s very honest of two people and the relationship between.
January 25, 2022
A well written quick read. Although confusing and I'm not completely sure what was going on towards the end. Not at all what I was expecting having not read the author before, but I follow him on Instagram for book recommendations.
May 24, 2023
This book It’s like one of those albums a friend recommends and says it would be perfect for you or it reminded them of you.
Similar to when you like an album and you see the recommendations of if you liked this artist you should try.
Them You listen and there are things you should like there but it doesn’t grab you. So that you keep going through it and here and there are parts that are noteworthy, it a bunch of it feels like a slog and by the end. You are jsit happy it’s over as you can see why others like it. Though it doesn’t present anything strong to you to win you over. So by the end you are like it’s ok, but would never try it again.
Similar to when you like an album and you see the recommendations of if you liked this artist you should try.
Them You listen and there are things you should like there but it doesn’t grab you. So that you keep going through it and here and there are parts that are noteworthy, it a bunch of it feels like a slog and by the end. You are jsit happy it’s over as you can see why others like it. Though it doesn’t present anything strong to you to win you over. So by the end you are like it’s ok, but would never try it again.
February 24, 2016
far too "high concept" for me
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