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Stephen Florida
Foxcatcher meets The Art of Fielding, Stephen Florida follows a college wrestler in his senior season, when every practice, every match, is a step closer to greatness and a step further from sanity. Profane, manic, and tipping into the uncanny, it's a story of loneliness, obsession, and the drive to leave a mark.
304 pages, Hardcover
First published June 13, 2017
160 people are currently reading
5890 people want to read
About the author
Gabe Habash
5 books106 followersGabe Habash is the author of Stephen Florida. He is a graduate of New York University's MFA program and is the Fiction Reviews Editor for Publishers Weekly.
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Displaying 1 - 30 of 563 reviews
October 25, 2017
What a strange, strange, utterly intriguing novel. The prose style is so staccato, so relentless in its commitment to be what it is. This is not a book that is going to cater to the reader or to anyone's expectations of what a novel should be, how a protagonist should be, how a story should read. The writer's commitment to the prose style is just... mind blowing. Writing like this takes guts. This isn't a book I could love but it is a book I will forever admire for its ambition and execution.
June 27, 2017
Barring a miracle, this is going to be my favorite book of the year - a totally unique wildchild of a novel tracking the senior year of a 133 pound division IV wrestler in North Dakota. We're firmly in Stephen's head the whole way, and Habash has created a unique voice here, an amalgam of obsession, diversion, exclamation points, and failures to communicate that, for all its literary accomplishment, is a pleasure to be around. I understand the drive to label S.F. an unreliable narrator, but despite the plot actions left aside or hinted at, he felt more like an incredibly reliable voice to me, metronomic in his consistency despite boogeymen lurking at every corner, weirdly self-aware for someone who has no self-awareness. His disinterest in aspects of the plot outside of wrestling allow Habash to weave in subplots seamlessly. This is a busy book that never feels like it.
In its obsessiveness, there are shades of THE UNIVERSAL BASEBALL ASSOCIATION, INC., there's a strong Nabokov vibe structurally (Nabokov loves to let planted digressions bloom in third act scene-work), and there are some nicely spaced out TRISTRAM SHANDY eruptions that kept my energy up by letting the voice change registers up.
The use of wrestling allows the book to have wonderful moments of physicality and, crucially with such an intense inner-monologue, gives us a sequence of deadlines that allow us to glide through the calendar year. The obstacles and impediments in the three-act structure are good ones (the big one is spoiled by pretty much everything I've read, but I won't mention it here), and there are very few supporting characters that don't end up surprising us in plot. Mary Beth, in particular, is a star.
And the book is funny! Really funny, both in its language and asides and in its relentless focus on the body and failures to communicate. I kept laughing on the subway.
The ending is great also - no spoilers, but it's the rare one that gives you everything you want and leaves itself open for more. I'm a sucker for sports and sports movies and this sort of voice (not enough Joyce fans writing fiction these days), but even if you're not, this is one to read.
In its obsessiveness, there are shades of THE UNIVERSAL BASEBALL ASSOCIATION, INC., there's a strong Nabokov vibe structurally (Nabokov loves to let planted digressions bloom in third act scene-work), and there are some nicely spaced out TRISTRAM SHANDY eruptions that kept my energy up by letting the voice change registers up.
The use of wrestling allows the book to have wonderful moments of physicality and, crucially with such an intense inner-monologue, gives us a sequence of deadlines that allow us to glide through the calendar year. The obstacles and impediments in the three-act structure are good ones (the big one is spoiled by pretty much everything I've read, but I won't mention it here), and there are very few supporting characters that don't end up surprising us in plot. Mary Beth, in particular, is a star.
And the book is funny! Really funny, both in its language and asides and in its relentless focus on the body and failures to communicate. I kept laughing on the subway.
The ending is great also - no spoilers, but it's the rare one that gives you everything you want and leaves itself open for more. I'm a sucker for sports and sports movies and this sort of voice (not enough Joyce fans writing fiction these days), but even if you're not, this is one to read.
July 25, 2019
Wrestling is unprejudiced and open minded, and it's impossible to argue with. It always tells the truth, and that's why so many men love it.
There are things that can be expressed only by wrestling.
Stephen Florida's whole world is wrestling. A C student, at best, he's spent his college years academically dabbling while he throws his all into training, and tournaments. Even his coach describes him as a "solipsistic mess." Now, in just a few short months, college will end. Stephen will graduate.
Then what?
Why did I latch on to this? I'm going to be let out in six months. With nowhere to go, what am I supposed to do? When did the future become as unfaithful as the past?
As Stephen himself will tell you: Stephen Florida is losing it.
I have wondered dozens of times whether I have a special skill at turning the people I come across in my life into ghosts, into glass, temporary figures. Maybe someday one of them will look me up.
I honestly have no clue why I loved this book so much. I really don't enjoy the type of wrestling that doesn't involve tables, ladders and chairs, and guys called The Undertaker. Stephen is well, he's bat shit crazy, and pretty damned unlikable. And, yet . . . I couldn't stop rooting for him.
And while he's calling me a bitch pussy and banging my ribs I kneel down and get him onto my shoulders like a baby lamb, he's a baby lamb now. He is guided by my arms to the mat, and thereupon he finds his disappointment.
I'm pretty sure this is going to be one of my top three favorites for the year, and I can't even begin to tell you why.
"I want a good match, you two. Good luck." And just like that, he steps back, and we head into the fuckery.
There are things that can be expressed only by wrestling.
Stephen Florida's whole world is wrestling. A C student, at best, he's spent his college years academically dabbling while he throws his all into training, and tournaments. Even his coach describes him as a "solipsistic mess." Now, in just a few short months, college will end. Stephen will graduate.
Then what?
Why did I latch on to this? I'm going to be let out in six months. With nowhere to go, what am I supposed to do? When did the future become as unfaithful as the past?
As Stephen himself will tell you: Stephen Florida is losing it.
I have wondered dozens of times whether I have a special skill at turning the people I come across in my life into ghosts, into glass, temporary figures. Maybe someday one of them will look me up.
I honestly have no clue why I loved this book so much. I really don't enjoy the type of wrestling that doesn't involve tables, ladders and chairs, and guys called The Undertaker. Stephen is well, he's bat shit crazy, and pretty damned unlikable. And, yet . . . I couldn't stop rooting for him.
And while he's calling me a bitch pussy and banging my ribs I kneel down and get him onto my shoulders like a baby lamb, he's a baby lamb now. He is guided by my arms to the mat, and thereupon he finds his disappointment.
I'm pretty sure this is going to be one of my top three favorites for the year, and I can't even begin to tell you why.
"I want a good match, you two. Good luck." And just like that, he steps back, and we head into the fuckery.
July 9, 2018
Gabe Habash has constructed one of the most interesting and convincing character studies with STEPHEN FLORIDA that I've read in recent memory. Young college wrestler, Stephen Florida, is indeed a troubled young man. Picture a more modern, violent, and focused Holden Caulfield suited up in a onesie and you'll have a pretty accurate image of Florida. Obsession is a clear theme throughout this novel and Habash does an incredible job of building an incredibly detailed anti-hero in Florida, a man who begins the story with nothing on his mind but a national championship. And yet, despite the reader's understanding that Florida is a deeply flawed individual, capable of many uncomfortable actions and thoughts, Habash has given his main character so many levels that we cannot help but to root for this brutish thinker every time he sets foot on the mat—be it in the very real sense, or the proverbial one to wrestle is demons within his own mind.
As Florida's final year in college progresses, he's assaulted from every angle by the much bigger picture questions of love, familial loss, and just what to do with his life. As the tension mounts, Florida's world begins to disintegrate with a stunning realism.
For fans of the film "Foxcatcher" and the seminal novel THE CATCHER IN THE RYE, STEPHEN FLORIDA is simply a must-read. In fact, in this age of our shunning any focus on mental illness, the book should be required reading for an America that continues to grow more insular and isolated not just from the rest of the world, but from one another.
As Florida's final year in college progresses, he's assaulted from every angle by the much bigger picture questions of love, familial loss, and just what to do with his life. As the tension mounts, Florida's world begins to disintegrate with a stunning realism.
For fans of the film "Foxcatcher" and the seminal novel THE CATCHER IN THE RYE, STEPHEN FLORIDA is simply a must-read. In fact, in this age of our shunning any focus on mental illness, the book should be required reading for an America that continues to grow more insular and isolated not just from the rest of the world, but from one another.
December 9, 2017
Give me a disturbed narrator, and I'm generally in love from the get go. In that light, Steven Forster - a collegiate wrestler accidentally dubbed with the wrong name by an aging, nearsighted school registrar - should have made my heart throb.
Mistakes bubble in and out of his story. He starts his life wrapped in an error that manifests in a better chance for success - his vanished twin has given him two placentas from which to draw strength. An accident kills his parents when he is young. A green notebook is mistakenly left where he can find it.
When this obsessive and relentless young wrestler makes an error on the mat, a tangible price is exacted, and he becomes stranger yet. Until Stephen Florida makes that mistake and ends up suffering a torn meniscus - somewhere around the halfway point - I'm sorry to say that the book initially bored me nearly to tears, despite it being peppered with philosophical meanderings and dark tension. His love interest, Mary Beth, can abide anything she says - except boredom. I'm with ya, girl.
The good stuff: great mood setting and high creep factor. The author puts The Big O into Obsessiveness, and that is exceptionally well done here. For those of you who follow collegiate wrestling, the matches and moves ring pretty true (although there were a LOT of them). I read that the author has a family member, maybe an uncle, who used to wrestle and that he went over all the wrestling scenes carefully to tweak them. John Irving would be proud! Off the mats, since he is in the weight class of 133 pounds, Stephen Florida eats like a ballerina or an anorexic or a jockey...again, very realistic.
The freaky stuff: There is an offscreen character Stephen calls "the frog man" who may or may not slip him notes under his dorm room door or whisper to him through an old CB radio and via a vinyl album. We hear of old incidents with disemboweled goats and encounter a gorilla mask (twice) and present day goats (twice). There is a scary roustabout named Shane who will give you the willies, and the last few sentences will make you wonder.
Cautionary stuff: there are myriad discussions of snot, vomit, and other bodily things best not thought about. I got the vague feeling that the author was trying to echo Eileen a bit, but to lesser effect for me. They just pointlessly disgusted me here, particularly the recycling of Chinese take-out. By this point in the story, it was an unnecessary and over the top bit of drama to yet again show how odd Stephen Florida was.
The following critiques might blow the story for you, so they are tagged as such.
In sum, if you're a fan of narcissistic narrators or enjoy wrestling and can manage some disturbing body issues, go for it. Most everybody but me absolutely raved about the book. I've got to admit that The Art of Fielding is one of my favorite books, and although this book is a creepy, schizophrenic cousin to it, certain aspects seemed almost a rip-off rather than an homage. If you have read both books, you'll see the obvious parallels. If you have read The Art of Fielding recently and remember its details, then you too might feel offended for that author. The earrings were the last straw for me - totally a copy cat obscurity - otherwise, I'd have given this four stars.
I could not love it, but perhaps I just don't have enough magnesium in my diet... a joke that only Stephen Florida would get.
Mistakes bubble in and out of his story. He starts his life wrapped in an error that manifests in a better chance for success - his vanished twin has given him two placentas from which to draw strength. An accident kills his parents when he is young. A green notebook is mistakenly left where he can find it.
When this obsessive and relentless young wrestler makes an error on the mat, a tangible price is exacted, and he becomes stranger yet. Until Stephen Florida makes that mistake and ends up suffering a torn meniscus - somewhere around the halfway point - I'm sorry to say that the book initially bored me nearly to tears, despite it being peppered with philosophical meanderings and dark tension. His love interest, Mary Beth, can abide anything she says - except boredom. I'm with ya, girl.
The good stuff: great mood setting and high creep factor. The author puts The Big O into Obsessiveness, and that is exceptionally well done here. For those of you who follow collegiate wrestling, the matches and moves ring pretty true (although there were a LOT of them). I read that the author has a family member, maybe an uncle, who used to wrestle and that he went over all the wrestling scenes carefully to tweak them. John Irving would be proud! Off the mats, since he is in the weight class of 133 pounds, Stephen Florida eats like a ballerina or an anorexic or a jockey...again, very realistic.
The freaky stuff: There is an offscreen character Stephen calls "the frog man" who may or may not slip him notes under his dorm room door or whisper to him through an old CB radio and via a vinyl album. We hear of old incidents with disemboweled goats and encounter a gorilla mask (twice) and present day goats (twice). There is a scary roustabout named Shane who will give you the willies, and the last few sentences will make you wonder.
Cautionary stuff: there are myriad discussions of snot, vomit, and other bodily things best not thought about. I got the vague feeling that the author was trying to echo Eileen a bit, but to lesser effect for me. They just pointlessly disgusted me here, particularly the recycling of Chinese take-out. By this point in the story, it was an unnecessary and over the top bit of drama to yet again show how odd Stephen Florida was.
The following critiques might blow the story for you, so they are tagged as such.
In sum, if you're a fan of narcissistic narrators or enjoy wrestling and can manage some disturbing body issues, go for it. Most everybody but me absolutely raved about the book. I've got to admit that The Art of Fielding is one of my favorite books, and although this book is a creepy, schizophrenic cousin to it, certain aspects seemed almost a rip-off rather than an homage. If you have read both books, you'll see the obvious parallels. If you have read The Art of Fielding recently and remember its details, then you too might feel offended for that author. The earrings were the last straw for me - totally a copy cat obscurity - otherwise, I'd have given this four stars.
I could not love it, but perhaps I just don't have enough magnesium in my diet... a joke that only Stephen Florida would get.
June 16, 2017
After reading several lackluster books recently about college-age protagonists meandering through life, I've come to the conclusion that I only really enjoy these kinds of stories when the characters have a truly distinct voice.
In walks Stephen Florida.
This book is absolutely mesmerizing and unlike anything I've ever read. And yet it's not the kind of book I would recommend to just anyone. Stephen is one of the strangest and most disturbing characters I've encountered in quite some time. He has just recently begun his senior season on the college wrestling team and he is obsessively focused on one thing and one thing only: winning.
As his season progresses and he pursues his quest for greatness, Stephen's mind spirals further off the deep end and his narration becomes more unreliable. This is a guy who's a bit of a sociopath to begin with, so that's saying something. Stephen's the kind of character who says things like: "Sometimes I wonder, if I were a character in a book, would I be sympathetic? Would I make a good good guy?"
The answer is, he is strangely sympathetic in spite of himself. Beneath Stephen's singular focus on wrestling is an undercurrent of grief and a desperate longing for control and meaning by any means necessary.
There's a pervasive sense of menace throughout as Stephen loses his grip on reality—an uncanniness that Habash writes with perfect subtlety.
Nothing I write here will adequately convey just how bizarre and unsettling this debut novel is. At times I was reminded of the strange protagonist in Patty Yumi Cottrell's Sorry for Disrupting the Peace and the vague sense of foreboding in Iain Reid's I'm Thinking of Ending Things.
I'm hesitant to recommend Stephen Florida to just anyone, but I imagine it will have a dedicated cult following among other weirdos like me who live for these kinds of characters.
In walks Stephen Florida.
This book is absolutely mesmerizing and unlike anything I've ever read. And yet it's not the kind of book I would recommend to just anyone. Stephen is one of the strangest and most disturbing characters I've encountered in quite some time. He has just recently begun his senior season on the college wrestling team and he is obsessively focused on one thing and one thing only: winning.
As his season progresses and he pursues his quest for greatness, Stephen's mind spirals further off the deep end and his narration becomes more unreliable. This is a guy who's a bit of a sociopath to begin with, so that's saying something. Stephen's the kind of character who says things like: "Sometimes I wonder, if I were a character in a book, would I be sympathetic? Would I make a good good guy?"
The answer is, he is strangely sympathetic in spite of himself. Beneath Stephen's singular focus on wrestling is an undercurrent of grief and a desperate longing for control and meaning by any means necessary.
There's a pervasive sense of menace throughout as Stephen loses his grip on reality—an uncanniness that Habash writes with perfect subtlety.
Nothing I write here will adequately convey just how bizarre and unsettling this debut novel is. At times I was reminded of the strange protagonist in Patty Yumi Cottrell's Sorry for Disrupting the Peace and the vague sense of foreboding in Iain Reid's I'm Thinking of Ending Things.
I'm hesitant to recommend Stephen Florida to just anyone, but I imagine it will have a dedicated cult following among other weirdos like me who live for these kinds of characters.
November 7, 2019
Seriously, how can a story about a disturbed amateur wrestler in North Dakota be so compelling? How?? This is a brilliant book about loneliness and toxic masculinity, and while its protagonist is an anti-hero with pretty disgusting habits, the reader can't help but feel with him.
Stephen Florida is a senior at Oregsburg College, but for him, college is not about his studies, making friends or having fun. He is obsessed with wrestling and would do anything to finally win the championship - not only does this obsession give him direction in life, it also gives him the opportunity to turn away from the loneliness, fear and pain he feels while focusing on this one goal which promises him almost religious deliverance.
Due to his single-mindedness and surpressed trauma, Stephen has trouble connecting with people, and the situation is intensified by the extreme competition in the wrestling team and the male rituals of combat sports. When he suffers a knee injury and consequently fears that he might not be able to compete in the championship, his psyche starts to unravel...
Habash wrote a great story, but the real wonder here is the invention of Stephen Florida as a character - he is so complex, contradictory, and often mean, but at the same time it's obvious how much heart he has, but that it is trapped inside his own sadness. I don't think Habash is planning to write a follow-up, but I would definitely read it.
Full disclosure: If he decides to write about something else, I will read it as well! :-)
Stephen Florida is a senior at Oregsburg College, but for him, college is not about his studies, making friends or having fun. He is obsessed with wrestling and would do anything to finally win the championship - not only does this obsession give him direction in life, it also gives him the opportunity to turn away from the loneliness, fear and pain he feels while focusing on this one goal which promises him almost religious deliverance.
Due to his single-mindedness and surpressed trauma, Stephen has trouble connecting with people, and the situation is intensified by the extreme competition in the wrestling team and the male rituals of combat sports. When he suffers a knee injury and consequently fears that he might not be able to compete in the championship, his psyche starts to unravel...
Habash wrote a great story, but the real wonder here is the invention of Stephen Florida as a character - he is so complex, contradictory, and often mean, but at the same time it's obvious how much heart he has, but that it is trapped inside his own sadness. I don't think Habash is planning to write a follow-up, but I would definitely read it.
Full disclosure: If he decides to write about something else, I will read it as well! :-)
December 13, 2017
"I have reached many limits, but I have not reached my limit in wrestling. I know that for certain."
Stephen Florida is a college wrestler with one goal - to win the championship at the 133 lb weight classification in his senior year. He has been working towards this goal and will not let anything get in the way. This book is able to show what a singular, obsessive focus looks like, and what suffers, not the least of which is the person pursuing the goal.
I think the strength of this novel really shows at the end.
Stephen Florida is a college wrestler with one goal - to win the championship at the 133 lb weight classification in his senior year. He has been working towards this goal and will not let anything get in the way. This book is able to show what a singular, obsessive focus looks like, and what suffers, not the least of which is the person pursuing the goal.
I think the strength of this novel really shows at the end.
October 23, 2017
Coarse, poetic, and bleak, Stephen Florida is a novel about obsession and loneliness. Stephen Florida, a senior on a wrestling scholarship at a small private college in North Dakota, has one remaining raison d'être: to win the Division IV NCAA championship in his weight class (133). His singlemindedness drives him into some dark spaces, and when disaster strikes, he retreats into a depression that borders on madness.
Stephen is our narrator, and a most unreliable one at that. His voice is reminiscent of Holden Caulfield—wry and self-reflective—and yet somehow so very innocent and unaware. It is impossible not to be caught up in Stephen's creepily charming Eeyore-like affect, a young man full of his own blunt force, yet terrified of the gunk that lives in the shower drain, certain it is a substance alive and sinister. He and his teammates adhere to a brutal physical regimen, counting calories and pummeling bodies. Gabe Habash describes the discipline and desperation of these athletes so that you feel and smell their dripping sweat, are beside them in steaming gym basements, on wrestling mats slippery with their exertion.
Stephen is distracted by love early in this first semester and you feel him moving toward the light of hope and redemption, buoyed by a sweet and steady love. But distraction won't win him the trophy he covets. As his grip with reality slips, his eyes on the prize darken with desperation.
Habash writes with confidence and tight, sharply-honed skills. This novel is a character sketch with profundity and nuance. It is masculine and weird, tethered to reality and yet hovering above it, like the character of Stephen himself. I found it original and disconcerting; it is an unforgettable read, yet I was ready to move on, beyond its barren landscapes and desperate emotions. Recommended with a slight intake of breath, indicating hesitation.
Stephen is our narrator, and a most unreliable one at that. His voice is reminiscent of Holden Caulfield—wry and self-reflective—and yet somehow so very innocent and unaware. It is impossible not to be caught up in Stephen's creepily charming Eeyore-like affect, a young man full of his own blunt force, yet terrified of the gunk that lives in the shower drain, certain it is a substance alive and sinister. He and his teammates adhere to a brutal physical regimen, counting calories and pummeling bodies. Gabe Habash describes the discipline and desperation of these athletes so that you feel and smell their dripping sweat, are beside them in steaming gym basements, on wrestling mats slippery with their exertion.
Stephen is distracted by love early in this first semester and you feel him moving toward the light of hope and redemption, buoyed by a sweet and steady love. But distraction won't win him the trophy he covets. As his grip with reality slips, his eyes on the prize darken with desperation.
Habash writes with confidence and tight, sharply-honed skills. This novel is a character sketch with profundity and nuance. It is masculine and weird, tethered to reality and yet hovering above it, like the character of Stephen himself. I found it original and disconcerting; it is an unforgettable read, yet I was ready to move on, beyond its barren landscapes and desperate emotions. Recommended with a slight intake of breath, indicating hesitation.
January 28, 2018
this left me breathless. more when i recover.
*** (recovered) ***
the premise of this book is entirely irrelevant to the what this book is like, or what it does. in fact, i have no idea what this book does or what is about (though i'll try to say something about this in a minute) but here is the premise: stephen florida (the strange last name is the result of a clerical error stephen decides not to fix) is the star of a north dakota university wrestling team and his one dream is to win the division championship in kenosha in his senior year. he has no ambition other than that and, if i remember correctly, no life goals of any kind, including life itself, after that.
so let me talk about a) Hanya Yanagihara's enthusiastic endorsement of this first novel and b) the cover.
i have no idea if gabe and hanya are MFA buddies or MFA teacher-student, but what i know is, if hanya endorses a book it is likely to be 1. awesome 2. weird as hell and 3. weird in the most awesome way possible. witness yanagihara's first novel, The People in the Trees, a jaw-dropping masterpiece of weirdness, daring, and writerly self-assurance. (gabe habash too seems to be quite undaunted by The First Novel; he goes all out on the weird).
the cover is gorgeous, but has nothing to do with anything. as it should. (just so you know: no large feline appears in this novel and the novel is not set in the everglades).
the closest i can come to box this book is in "coming of age," but heck, this is some coming of age. the most conventional coming-of-age feature of the book is the love story, but that too is, if not exactly weird, then complex and intense and adult.
this is writerly fireworks, a fabulous journey into the mind and adventures of an unpleasant character (by the end i wanted to be stephen's personal savior), a deep gaze into the heartbreak of teenage masculinity, a hard look at madness, and a major kick-ass vindication of all the mad paranoid obsessed people who find mad paranoid obsessive ways to keep themselves afloat.
also, if you are looking for a story, yeah, there is a hell of a story. (this is for you, simon)
*** (recovered) ***
the premise of this book is entirely irrelevant to the what this book is like, or what it does. in fact, i have no idea what this book does or what is about (though i'll try to say something about this in a minute) but here is the premise: stephen florida (the strange last name is the result of a clerical error stephen decides not to fix) is the star of a north dakota university wrestling team and his one dream is to win the division championship in kenosha in his senior year. he has no ambition other than that and, if i remember correctly, no life goals of any kind, including life itself, after that.
so let me talk about a) Hanya Yanagihara's enthusiastic endorsement of this first novel and b) the cover.
i have no idea if gabe and hanya are MFA buddies or MFA teacher-student, but what i know is, if hanya endorses a book it is likely to be 1. awesome 2. weird as hell and 3. weird in the most awesome way possible. witness yanagihara's first novel, The People in the Trees, a jaw-dropping masterpiece of weirdness, daring, and writerly self-assurance. (gabe habash too seems to be quite undaunted by The First Novel; he goes all out on the weird).
the cover is gorgeous, but has nothing to do with anything. as it should. (just so you know: no large feline appears in this novel and the novel is not set in the everglades).
the closest i can come to box this book is in "coming of age," but heck, this is some coming of age. the most conventional coming-of-age feature of the book is the love story, but that too is, if not exactly weird, then complex and intense and adult.
this is writerly fireworks, a fabulous journey into the mind and adventures of an unpleasant character (by the end i wanted to be stephen's personal savior), a deep gaze into the heartbreak of teenage masculinity, a hard look at madness, and a major kick-ass vindication of all the mad paranoid obsessed people who find mad paranoid obsessive ways to keep themselves afloat.
also, if you are looking for a story, yeah, there is a hell of a story. (this is for you, simon)
August 19, 2018
Stephen Florida addresses so many important topics: masculinity, mental health, men's complex relationships with sport, and more. Gabe Habash instills our protagonist - Stephen Florida, a college wrestler in his senior season - with a distinct, unsettling voice that remains consistent throughout the story. Stephen's obsession with wrestling overlies deeper themes that many of us may relate to, including how we deal or refuse to deal with loss, the desire to win at something to regain control, and finding comfort in what is familiar to us.
I wish the novel had more to delve into these complex, pressing issues though. While Stephen is a unique protagonist, I got bored of his narrative. I wanted to see him explore his mental health or relationship issues with more actual progress or character development. I see that as a narcissist and as someone who represses a lot, Stephen would struggle with that path to recovery or increased self-awareness. But for the sake of defying toxic masculinity, I would have loved to see him make more progress in therapy or even to have read more scenes featuring his potential efforts toward growth, even if these efforts were eventually thwarted.
A few of my trusted friends on Goodreads loved this one, so maybe check it out if you think you would dig it based on the synopsis. The book contains some violent descriptions and lots of bodily fluids, so prep for that. I acknowledge perhaps I wanted something from the book that maybe would have weakened its appeal to others, and yet, I still stand by my desire for more from Stephen. Habash exhibits a wonderfully odd writing style in this book, so I am still excited to read his next work.
I wish the novel had more to delve into these complex, pressing issues though. While Stephen is a unique protagonist, I got bored of his narrative. I wanted to see him explore his mental health or relationship issues with more actual progress or character development. I see that as a narcissist and as someone who represses a lot, Stephen would struggle with that path to recovery or increased self-awareness. But for the sake of defying toxic masculinity, I would have loved to see him make more progress in therapy or even to have read more scenes featuring his potential efforts toward growth, even if these efforts were eventually thwarted.
A few of my trusted friends on Goodreads loved this one, so maybe check it out if you think you would dig it based on the synopsis. The book contains some violent descriptions and lots of bodily fluids, so prep for that. I acknowledge perhaps I wanted something from the book that maybe would have weakened its appeal to others, and yet, I still stand by my desire for more from Stephen. Habash exhibits a wonderfully odd writing style in this book, so I am still excited to read his next work.
February 12, 2019
Enter the head of an orphaned, angry high school wrestler in North Dakota who does senseless, comical, and sometimes disturbing things. Those who have worked tirelessly for a single goal will understand Stephen Florida’s undying persistence. Those who have been deeply hurt may understand his need to recklessly lash out at his friends. Those who are deeply frightened by their inner selves and lack confidence may understand the ghost-like Frogman who haunts Stephen Florida.
Florida’s entire purpose is to win the wrestling championships in Kenosha his senior year. He has no purpose for his life other than wrestling. To him, the two best reasons to do anything are:
1. To prove to yourself you can do it
2. To prove to everyone else you can do it
"I believe that the more time you spend thinking about what the fuck you’re doing here is in direct proportion to your worseness. If you just buy into the craziness, you’re a lot better off."
Florida spends a lot of time trying to keep bad thoughts at bay. Sometimes they pop out in crazy actions like pulling up freshly planted cabbage plants around campus, peeing on top of other students’ heads from the second floor of the dorm, and getting into fights with his teammates, all without remorse.
"You’re only who you really are when you’re doing what you really want. I am so much myself, I could never be anyone else."
He meets MaryBeth and cares for her deeply because she works so hard to better herself. Still, he doesn’t share with her his bad thoughts and the pressure builds. His coach calls him the biggest “deviant” he has ever coached. He alternates between trying to destroy and show true love to his best friend and undefeated teammate Linus.
Florida’s conspiracy theory beliefs cause him to stumble upon an injustice being perpetrated on a fellow teammate. As readers, we wonder if he’s gone off the deep end. But he’s right. Something fishy is going on. Or is it? Is Florida an unreliable narrator? And who's committing crimes on and near the campus?
Habash took me on a psychological ride inside the mind of a sometimes suicidal, single-minded, passionate teenager. I recognized ugly parts of myself through Florida. Sometimes I have bad thoughts, I’ve done bad things, and the Frogwoman lurks in dark corners. The resilience of Stephen Florida will stick with me. The ending poses a big question about pursuing a single goal with such determination, while offering hope. I’m rooting for the Stephen Florida’s of the world, if he is who he says he is.
Florida’s entire purpose is to win the wrestling championships in Kenosha his senior year. He has no purpose for his life other than wrestling. To him, the two best reasons to do anything are:
1. To prove to yourself you can do it
2. To prove to everyone else you can do it
"I believe that the more time you spend thinking about what the fuck you’re doing here is in direct proportion to your worseness. If you just buy into the craziness, you’re a lot better off."
Florida spends a lot of time trying to keep bad thoughts at bay. Sometimes they pop out in crazy actions like pulling up freshly planted cabbage plants around campus, peeing on top of other students’ heads from the second floor of the dorm, and getting into fights with his teammates, all without remorse.
"You’re only who you really are when you’re doing what you really want. I am so much myself, I could never be anyone else."
He meets MaryBeth and cares for her deeply because she works so hard to better herself. Still, he doesn’t share with her his bad thoughts and the pressure builds. His coach calls him the biggest “deviant” he has ever coached. He alternates between trying to destroy and show true love to his best friend and undefeated teammate Linus.
Florida’s conspiracy theory beliefs cause him to stumble upon an injustice being perpetrated on a fellow teammate. As readers, we wonder if he’s gone off the deep end. But he’s right. Something fishy is going on. Or is it? Is Florida an unreliable narrator? And who's committing crimes on and near the campus?
Habash took me on a psychological ride inside the mind of a sometimes suicidal, single-minded, passionate teenager. I recognized ugly parts of myself through Florida. Sometimes I have bad thoughts, I’ve done bad things, and the Frogwoman lurks in dark corners. The resilience of Stephen Florida will stick with me. The ending poses a big question about pursuing a single goal with such determination, while offering hope. I’m rooting for the Stephen Florida’s of the world, if he is who he says he is.
December 25, 2017
5+
Holy shit, this book. This is one of the most intense things I've read in a long, long while. Should go on a shelf with AMERICAN PSYCHO and the Patrick Melrose novels as a close-close-close look inside the head of someone driven and disturbed. The book grips you like a headlock and doesn't let go even when you think you're going to run out of air. Hot damn.
Holy shit, this book. This is one of the most intense things I've read in a long, long while. Should go on a shelf with AMERICAN PSYCHO and the Patrick Melrose novels as a close-close-close look inside the head of someone driven and disturbed. The book grips you like a headlock and doesn't let go even when you think you're going to run out of air. Hot damn.
September 13, 2017
I recently came across this quote about evaluating books and I think I will use it as my guide henceforth
For an adult reader, the possible verdicts are five: I can see this is good and I like it; I can see this is good but I don’t like it; I can see this is good, and, though at present I don’t like it, I believe with perseverance I shall come to like it; I can see that this is trash but I like it; I can see this is trash and I don’t like it - W.H Auden
For this debut novel by Gabe Habash I am going with option C, this is good and with perseverance I shall come to like it. The good in this case is the extraordinary realisation of this single-minded wrestler known as Stephen Florida. Author Garth Greenwell may not be exaggerating when he says
Stephen Florida is an unforgettable addition to the canon of great literary eccentrics
The tough part, being inside this slightly unhinged head for the entire novel is hard work. Stephen does things that repulsed me, he is often manic and self sabotaging and yet Habash manages to make him endearing. No easy thing to achieve in a novel about a college wrestler.
Wrestling does make up a sizeable chunk of this book, it is described wonderfully and yet I think it might help to have some basic knowledge of the sport. My only point of reference was the film Foxcatcher but reading about wrestling strategy eventually boiled down to a blur of homoerotic body positions and and a sort of overheated machismo. Eye-gouging, spitting, a lot of peeing in places unbecoming. In short it's a bit of a testosterone fest. As such I read this novel in short bursts.
What kept me engaged throughout was the humour and wry observations that we get as Stephen obsessively fights his way to his goal. I particularly liked the section where a careers councillor sends him out to shadow an oil field worker, the whole incident is laced with dark humour creepiness and a yearning loneliness. It would have made an outstanding short story.
The beginning and end of this novel are particularly strong but the middle sagged under the weight of disconnected snippets and oddball run-ins with potentially murderous jazz teachers and abusive coaches. I didn't think the novel really needed those aspects or rather they were not fleshed out well enough to appreciate.
In summary this might be one of those books I admire but do not love, however this is a strong debut novel and one I feel may pop up on something like the Tournament of Books for 2018.
( For those trying to decide if this book is for them, many reviews compare it to The Art of Fielding and Habash himself cites Roberto Bolano as an influence. This review in the Atlantic put a good perspective on this novel for me and actually nudged me closer to the 4 stars I ended up giving it. )
For an adult reader, the possible verdicts are five: I can see this is good and I like it; I can see this is good but I don’t like it; I can see this is good, and, though at present I don’t like it, I believe with perseverance I shall come to like it; I can see that this is trash but I like it; I can see this is trash and I don’t like it - W.H Auden
For this debut novel by Gabe Habash I am going with option C, this is good and with perseverance I shall come to like it. The good in this case is the extraordinary realisation of this single-minded wrestler known as Stephen Florida. Author Garth Greenwell may not be exaggerating when he says
Stephen Florida is an unforgettable addition to the canon of great literary eccentrics
The tough part, being inside this slightly unhinged head for the entire novel is hard work. Stephen does things that repulsed me, he is often manic and self sabotaging and yet Habash manages to make him endearing. No easy thing to achieve in a novel about a college wrestler.
Wrestling does make up a sizeable chunk of this book, it is described wonderfully and yet I think it might help to have some basic knowledge of the sport. My only point of reference was the film Foxcatcher but reading about wrestling strategy eventually boiled down to a blur of homoerotic body positions and and a sort of overheated machismo. Eye-gouging, spitting, a lot of peeing in places unbecoming. In short it's a bit of a testosterone fest. As such I read this novel in short bursts.
What kept me engaged throughout was the humour and wry observations that we get as Stephen obsessively fights his way to his goal. I particularly liked the section where a careers councillor sends him out to shadow an oil field worker, the whole incident is laced with dark humour creepiness and a yearning loneliness. It would have made an outstanding short story.
The beginning and end of this novel are particularly strong but the middle sagged under the weight of disconnected snippets and oddball run-ins with potentially murderous jazz teachers and abusive coaches. I didn't think the novel really needed those aspects or rather they were not fleshed out well enough to appreciate.
In summary this might be one of those books I admire but do not love, however this is a strong debut novel and one I feel may pop up on something like the Tournament of Books for 2018.
( For those trying to decide if this book is for them, many reviews compare it to The Art of Fielding and Habash himself cites Roberto Bolano as an influence. This review in the Atlantic put a good perspective on this novel for me and actually nudged me closer to the 4 stars I ended up giving it. )
July 10, 2017
The eponymous hero of Gabe Habash’s debut novel is a young, sinewy, macho stud at a North Dakota college on a wrestling scholarship, hellbent on attaining a championship title.
If you’re rolling your eyes already, you stop it right now. My hatred of all things sports-related is unrivalled, and I absolutely loved this novel.
Stephen is—to put it mildly—singled-minded in his devotion to wrestling. He got into it in school back in Florida and after his parents’ tragic deaths when he was a teenager his motivation tripled as a way to shelve the grief.
He’s cocky and awkward, but somehow has managed to befriend a fellow wrestler at the college ("I’d rather be alone, and being with Linus is the same as being alone but also a fix for loneliness, a positive solitude") and stumble into a romantic relationship with a classmate ("Every step of her life dents the earth harder, like she’s sucking up more air than everyone else"). Through his bumbling attempts to connect with them, we see a lot of weird and wonderful bits of Stephen beneath all that strong, silent bravado.
So that when his behaviour starts to get weirder and weirder, I was already so deeply invested in him that I fretted over just how far over the line he was going to go. I certainly won’t spoil anything but let’s just say I was holding my breath a lot of the time, wondering how violent things might get, how psycho Stephen might turn out to be. I loved how Habash kept this tension throughout yet still gave me such an emotionally satisfying ending.
The descriptive passages about the actual wrestling were a joy to read. I am not interested in wrestling beyond its innate homoerotic potential, and probably didn’t understand a lot of what I was reading, but I was transfixed.
Stephen was written off as a strange guy, none too bright, by most of the other characters, but Habash gives us access to the quirky workings of his mind. Sometimes that was disturbing, to be sure, but often it was elating.
Most reviewers talk about how deeply this novel explores masculinity, intimacy and sexuality: it sure does all that! But what grabbed me by the collar was the depth of characterization and the brilliant writing that wrested Stephen up and off the page. Easily one of the best debut novels of 2017. Like the wrestler at its heart, the story is enigmatic and not easily pinned down.
If you’re rolling your eyes already, you stop it right now. My hatred of all things sports-related is unrivalled, and I absolutely loved this novel.
Stephen is—to put it mildly—singled-minded in his devotion to wrestling. He got into it in school back in Florida and after his parents’ tragic deaths when he was a teenager his motivation tripled as a way to shelve the grief.
He’s cocky and awkward, but somehow has managed to befriend a fellow wrestler at the college ("I’d rather be alone, and being with Linus is the same as being alone but also a fix for loneliness, a positive solitude") and stumble into a romantic relationship with a classmate ("Every step of her life dents the earth harder, like she’s sucking up more air than everyone else"). Through his bumbling attempts to connect with them, we see a lot of weird and wonderful bits of Stephen beneath all that strong, silent bravado.
So that when his behaviour starts to get weirder and weirder, I was already so deeply invested in him that I fretted over just how far over the line he was going to go. I certainly won’t spoil anything but let’s just say I was holding my breath a lot of the time, wondering how violent things might get, how psycho Stephen might turn out to be. I loved how Habash kept this tension throughout yet still gave me such an emotionally satisfying ending.
The descriptive passages about the actual wrestling were a joy to read. I am not interested in wrestling beyond its innate homoerotic potential, and probably didn’t understand a lot of what I was reading, but I was transfixed.
Stephen was written off as a strange guy, none too bright, by most of the other characters, but Habash gives us access to the quirky workings of his mind. Sometimes that was disturbing, to be sure, but often it was elating.
Most reviewers talk about how deeply this novel explores masculinity, intimacy and sexuality: it sure does all that! But what grabbed me by the collar was the depth of characterization and the brilliant writing that wrested Stephen up and off the page. Easily one of the best debut novels of 2017. Like the wrestler at its heart, the story is enigmatic and not easily pinned down.
August 13, 2017
One of those books I casually opened to get a taste of and was pulled in by the unusual narrator. And then what was merely unusual (maybe even quirky) became crazier and crazier as it became evident that Mr. Florida (not his real name) is unstable or, at best, delusional. The middle part, where the narration becomes more fractured, sort of reminded me of Letters to Wendy's (one of my favorite crazy books ever). As a soundtrack, I was listening to 90s indie band Guv'ner, and their disregard of proper song structures seemed to fit the reading experience pretty well.
This is a pretty bold debut by Habash and he captures the suffocating pressure of solo sports as well as the cold flat landscape of North Dakota. It will be interesting to see what he does next.
This is a pretty bold debut by Habash and he captures the suffocating pressure of solo sports as well as the cold flat landscape of North Dakota. It will be interesting to see what he does next.
August 9, 2020
This book stayed with me so powerfully after I read it in December 2017 that I decided to make it the required book club experience for the Summer Reading class I've been teaching. I originally listened to the audio but read through Kindle Prime this time around. I should have given it five stars last time so I am doing so this time - I actually don't think it's a perfect book but the amount I thought about it after finishing it, the characters and some of the discussion points - make me want to rate it as highly as possible. This is not a book I would have been drawn to but there is something about it that is really special.
Stephen is a college wrestler with single-minded focus on his goals, but you can't be sure if his version of reality is sound, and the reader has a lot of work to do. He's also not likeable per se but so perfectly rendered that I continue to think about him, wondering what happened to him after college, etc. Cover art uses a work by George Boorujy, and it is a standout book cover.
Stephen is a college wrestler with single-minded focus on his goals, but you can't be sure if his version of reality is sound, and the reader has a lot of work to do. He's also not likeable per se but so perfectly rendered that I continue to think about him, wondering what happened to him after college, etc. Cover art uses a work by George Boorujy, and it is a standout book cover.
February 9, 2017
Spanning a college wrestler's senior season, STEPHEN FLORIDA is unlike anything else. Eerie and unsettling, it can be hard to live in Stephen's head, but it is impossible to stop reading, or forget what you find there. As a character, Stephen is unpredictable, sympathetic, focused, frenzied, cold, and tender. He is hard to love and yet I love him. We are lucky to have a new novel like this: something you haven't seen before, that makes you remember what good fiction is capable of.
September 21, 2023
"Stephen Florida" ist ein großer amerikanischer College-Roman. Er ist auf demselben hohen Niveau wie z.B "Die Kunst des Feldspiels" von Chad Harbach oder "Ich bin Charlotte Simmons" von Tom Wolfe. In College-Romanen spielt der Sport sehr oft eine zentrale Rolle. Diesmal ist es das Ringen. 🤼
Ringer sind für mich interessante Charaktere, obwohl ich mir beispielsweise die Ring-Kämpfe bei Olympia nur selten ansehe. Ich finde die Kombination aus Brutalität, Disziplin, Besessenheit und Härte gegen sich selbst faszinierend, nicht gut, aber faszinierend. Der Amateur-Ringer Kurt Angle, der später einer der bekanntesten Profi-Wrestler bei WWE wurde, hat 1996 mit einem Bruch im Genick bei Olympia gekämpft und die Gold-Medaille gewonnen. Diese Einstellung, dem Kampf alles unterzuordnen, hat bei ihm zu Tabletten- und Drogenabhängigkeit geführt. Diese ungesunde Besessenheit steckt auch in Stephen Florida, dem Helden des Romans. Eigentlich heißt er Steven Forster. Eine Verwaltungsangestellte des College mit Sehschwäche hat daraus Stephen Florida gemacht und er ist dabei geblieben.
Stephen hat nur noch eine Chance den Titel zu gewinnen. Er hat es seiner verstorbenen Großmutter, die vor ihrem Tod immer wieder das erste Kapitel vom "Zauberberg" gelesen hat, versprochen. So ordnet er diesem Ziel Alles unter. Und dann wird in einem Kampf sein Innenmeniskus im linken Knie gerissen. Er muss einige Wochen pausieren. "Ich erwische mich beim Winseln, so sehr will ich zurück auf die Matte."
Stephens Gewichtsklasse ist 60 kg. Dieses Gewicht nicht zu überschreiten, ohne den Verlust von Muskelmasse erfordert eine strikte Diät. Außerdem wird dem Körper ungesunderweise Flüssigkeit entzogen. Das ist ein Aspekt in der Welt des Ringens. Stephen hat sich dort eingerichtet. So kann er alles andere wie den Unfalltod seiner Eltern oder Menschen wie Linus und Mary Beth, die seine Freunde sein könnten, verdrängen. Nichts darf in diese Welt eindringen.
Stephen Florida ist ein unsympathischer, toxischer Mensch. Dafür gibt es keine Entschuldigung, aber Gründe. Er ist seit dem Tod seiner Eltern von Einsamkeit zerfressen. Er hat sich in das Ringen geflüchtet. Nur dieser Sport mit all seiner Brutalität gegen den Gegner und vor allem gegen sich selbst macht für ihn Sinn. Man fängt beim Lesen an, Stephen zu verstehen und wünscht ihm Besserung. Gabe Habash hat die Literatur um einen vielschichtigen, spannenden Charakter erweitert.
Ringer sind für mich interessante Charaktere, obwohl ich mir beispielsweise die Ring-Kämpfe bei Olympia nur selten ansehe. Ich finde die Kombination aus Brutalität, Disziplin, Besessenheit und Härte gegen sich selbst faszinierend, nicht gut, aber faszinierend. Der Amateur-Ringer Kurt Angle, der später einer der bekanntesten Profi-Wrestler bei WWE wurde, hat 1996 mit einem Bruch im Genick bei Olympia gekämpft und die Gold-Medaille gewonnen. Diese Einstellung, dem Kampf alles unterzuordnen, hat bei ihm zu Tabletten- und Drogenabhängigkeit geführt. Diese ungesunde Besessenheit steckt auch in Stephen Florida, dem Helden des Romans. Eigentlich heißt er Steven Forster. Eine Verwaltungsangestellte des College mit Sehschwäche hat daraus Stephen Florida gemacht und er ist dabei geblieben.
Stephen hat nur noch eine Chance den Titel zu gewinnen. Er hat es seiner verstorbenen Großmutter, die vor ihrem Tod immer wieder das erste Kapitel vom "Zauberberg" gelesen hat, versprochen. So ordnet er diesem Ziel Alles unter. Und dann wird in einem Kampf sein Innenmeniskus im linken Knie gerissen. Er muss einige Wochen pausieren. "Ich erwische mich beim Winseln, so sehr will ich zurück auf die Matte."
Stephens Gewichtsklasse ist 60 kg. Dieses Gewicht nicht zu überschreiten, ohne den Verlust von Muskelmasse erfordert eine strikte Diät. Außerdem wird dem Körper ungesunderweise Flüssigkeit entzogen. Das ist ein Aspekt in der Welt des Ringens. Stephen hat sich dort eingerichtet. So kann er alles andere wie den Unfalltod seiner Eltern oder Menschen wie Linus und Mary Beth, die seine Freunde sein könnten, verdrängen. Nichts darf in diese Welt eindringen.
Stephen Florida ist ein unsympathischer, toxischer Mensch. Dafür gibt es keine Entschuldigung, aber Gründe. Er ist seit dem Tod seiner Eltern von Einsamkeit zerfressen. Er hat sich in das Ringen geflüchtet. Nur dieser Sport mit all seiner Brutalität gegen den Gegner und vor allem gegen sich selbst macht für ihn Sinn. Man fängt beim Lesen an, Stephen zu verstehen und wünscht ihm Besserung. Gabe Habash hat die Literatur um einen vielschichtigen, spannenden Charakter erweitert.
July 9, 2018
This was the first book I've read in a long while that I loved from start to finish. It was pure exhilaration and never really let up.
Have you ever known a wrestler? Or a super intense ballerina? I knew a few of each in college and high school, respectively. And there's a kind of terrifying singlemindedness about their pursuit, a deranged embrace of the things that the rest of us quail at, things like pain, mortification, humiliation, and physical endurance, and a monkish insulation from the things that motivate most of us--things like relationships, happiness, pleasure, and doing "good enough." But these folks are different, they drown everything else out, and their focus is incredible, if a bit terrifying. I regarded these people the way I view Ph. D candidates and marathon runners today: with certain awe, but not the least bit of envy. Because how can I envy them these rituals and abnegations that I can't imagine having the fortitude to endure, much less wanting to?
Stephen is a college student with a single goal: to win the NCAA Division IV championship in his weight class in wrestling. He has such unmitigated tenacity that it makes the aforementioned ballerinas and college wrestlers of my youth look like layabout sluggards, and he has to navigate his way toward his goal despite the physical limits of his body, the freneticism and lurches of his addled brain, the ghosts of his past, the staccato relationships with the few people who get to know him, and the workaday interactions of the wholesome nowhere in which he lives.
Having said all that, I doubt the previous paragraph would really make me want to read this book. College athletics? Toxic masculinity? Unreliable narrators? Yuck. But this is a livewire psychological thriller, scrawled in madcap red ink. It's so good that I missed my subway stop on more than one occasion because I was so enthralled. It's so good that I forced myself to read other, lesser books instead of this one, just to extend the pleasure of the experience. And it's a debut novel! Hubba hubba.
You should read it.
Have you ever known a wrestler? Or a super intense ballerina? I knew a few of each in college and high school, respectively. And there's a kind of terrifying singlemindedness about their pursuit, a deranged embrace of the things that the rest of us quail at, things like pain, mortification, humiliation, and physical endurance, and a monkish insulation from the things that motivate most of us--things like relationships, happiness, pleasure, and doing "good enough." But these folks are different, they drown everything else out, and their focus is incredible, if a bit terrifying. I regarded these people the way I view Ph. D candidates and marathon runners today: with certain awe, but not the least bit of envy. Because how can I envy them these rituals and abnegations that I can't imagine having the fortitude to endure, much less wanting to?
Stephen is a college student with a single goal: to win the NCAA Division IV championship in his weight class in wrestling. He has such unmitigated tenacity that it makes the aforementioned ballerinas and college wrestlers of my youth look like layabout sluggards, and he has to navigate his way toward his goal despite the physical limits of his body, the freneticism and lurches of his addled brain, the ghosts of his past, the staccato relationships with the few people who get to know him, and the workaday interactions of the wholesome nowhere in which he lives.
Having said all that, I doubt the previous paragraph would really make me want to read this book. College athletics? Toxic masculinity? Unreliable narrators? Yuck. But this is a livewire psychological thriller, scrawled in madcap red ink. It's so good that I missed my subway stop on more than one occasion because I was so enthralled. It's so good that I forced myself to read other, lesser books instead of this one, just to extend the pleasure of the experience. And it's a debut novel! Hubba hubba.
You should read it.
December 18, 2017
I predict this book will gain a strong cult following. It’s Fight Club meets Crime and Punishment meets Donnie Darko.
This book, in my to-read status since the summer, was collateral damage from my Shogun-inflicted slump. Man, did it get the short end of the stick. Because this book is extraordinary. Definitely somewhere between a one- and five-star rating.
Ha! Yes, I’m struggling with the rating. This is like two VERY DIFFERENT books. Something happens about a quarter of the way through this read which marks an aggressive departure from Part 1. I struggled to determine if I even enjoyed what I was reading after Part 1. Well, folks, I’ve decided that I enjoyed what I read very much.
Performed by Will Damron with true intensity, the audiobook intro is one of the most gripping, testosterone-filled openings I've come across. You taste the sweat, you feel the panic and the rawness, you witness a legend in the making - you want to KNOW how Stephen Florida ticks.
...then it sort of meanders. Which pissed me off initially. So I put it down.
When I finally picked it back up, I started from the beginning: Here's what I learned: 1) the intro was as good as I remembered, 2) the Frogman makes appearances earlier than I initially caught on, 3) the book just made a lot more sense as a whole, and 4) Shogun must've really cast a cloud over everything in my life.
This book questions masculinity, and explores the blind quest for legacy. As the writing becomes more unhinged and unbalanced, it’s enough to make you feel like you’re experiencing a breakdown right there with Stephen. Have I come across a character quite like Stephen Florida before? Nope. Author Gabe Habash is certainly someone to watch.
Giving it a 4, but am on the fence about it rating it at all. Parts were definitely 5-star worthy.
This book, in my to-read status since the summer, was collateral damage from my Shogun-inflicted slump. Man, did it get the short end of the stick. Because this book is extraordinary. Definitely somewhere between a one- and five-star rating.
Ha! Yes, I’m struggling with the rating. This is like two VERY DIFFERENT books. Something happens about a quarter of the way through this read which marks an aggressive departure from Part 1. I struggled to determine if I even enjoyed what I was reading after Part 1. Well, folks, I’ve decided that I enjoyed what I read very much.
Performed by Will Damron with true intensity, the audiobook intro is one of the most gripping, testosterone-filled openings I've come across. You taste the sweat, you feel the panic and the rawness, you witness a legend in the making - you want to KNOW how Stephen Florida ticks.
...then it sort of meanders. Which pissed me off initially. So I put it down.
When I finally picked it back up, I started from the beginning: Here's what I learned: 1) the intro was as good as I remembered, 2) the Frogman makes appearances earlier than I initially caught on, 3) the book just made a lot more sense as a whole, and 4) Shogun must've really cast a cloud over everything in my life.
This book questions masculinity, and explores the blind quest for legacy. As the writing becomes more unhinged and unbalanced, it’s enough to make you feel like you’re experiencing a breakdown right there with Stephen. Have I come across a character quite like Stephen Florida before? Nope. Author Gabe Habash is certainly someone to watch.
Giving it a 4, but am on the fence about it rating it at all. Parts were definitely 5-star worthy.
April 6, 2017
An unsettling book that feels like an organ in your hands, with an insidious pulse beating through its pages, rippling between the covers, shooting up the spine that sutures the pages together. What starts out as one character's descent into winning at all costs morphs into a terrifying meditation on grief and the manners in which we attempt to heal or destroy ourselves. A story about harnessing the will to live, learning to move forward with a life you don't feel in control of, ending one chapter and starting another, yet knowing there are things that we'll never be rid of, not fully. This unnerving book throttled me and did not let up until the end.
June 2, 2019
Jak bardzo można się czuć się samotnym? Jak bardzo można czegoś pragnąć, jak daleko zajść, by osiągnąć swój cel? Jak głęboko się pogrążyć w ciemności, by pokonać samego siebie i zatriumfować na przekór wszystkiemu? "Nazywam się Stephen Florida" Gabe'a Habasha to historia obsesji, nieustannej walki o własną duszę i marzeniu, którego spełnienie potwierdzi sens życia.
"Noszę w sobie skrywaną udrękę. Staram się zawsze czymś zająć, żeby o niej zapomnieć, ale w takich chwilach, kiedy nie mogę kłamać, wiem, że daje mi się coraz bardziej we znaki, że wylewa się ze mnie rozpacz."
Pot i krew i ślina. Więcej potu, więcej krwi, więcej śliny. Stephen Florida nie płacze. Tylko ulepsza się w nieskończoność. Biega do utraty tchu. Jest na ścisłej diecie. Trenuje chwyty zapaśnicze i staje w szranki z każdym kolejnym przeciwnikiem. Przegrał dziewięćdziesiąt dziewięć walk, pamięta każdą z nich, ale żadna go nie poniżyła - umocniła jednak w pragnieniu. Unika bliższych znajomości, odpycha przyjaciół, trenerów wprowadza w popłoch swoją złością, która kipi z niego na macie. To złość go napędza. I samotność też. Bo to od samotności paradoksalnie próbuje uciec.
Wydaje mi się, że o "Nazywam się Stephen Florida" wypowiedzieli się już wszyscy. Pisali i mówili o magnetyzmie, o niepokoju, o doskonałości, o wielkości... I taka jest ta powieść. Wielka. Majestatyczna. Potężna jak zapaśnik, który nigdy się nie poddaje, który nawet jak upada na matę wstaje, by udowodnić wszystkim wokół, że się da. Gabe Habash między słowami zaklął całą ludzką samotność, cały strach przed zapomnieniem, całą walkę jednostki o samostanowienie. Czytelnik czyta zahipnotyzowany, opętany cielesnością, przed którą nie sposób uciec, rozochocony testosteronem, który dominuje każdą kolejną stronę. Pragniemy, by sen o zwycięstwie spełnił się. By światło zamigotało się w głębinie ciemności. Dopingujemy, wrzeszczymy, kibicujemy. Już dawno powieść nie była tak fascynującą i tak intensywną przeprawą przez ludzką duszę.
Duży Buk. Zdecydowanie.
"Noszę w sobie skrywaną udrękę. Staram się zawsze czymś zająć, żeby o niej zapomnieć, ale w takich chwilach, kiedy nie mogę kłamać, wiem, że daje mi się coraz bardziej we znaki, że wylewa się ze mnie rozpacz."
Pot i krew i ślina. Więcej potu, więcej krwi, więcej śliny. Stephen Florida nie płacze. Tylko ulepsza się w nieskończoność. Biega do utraty tchu. Jest na ścisłej diecie. Trenuje chwyty zapaśnicze i staje w szranki z każdym kolejnym przeciwnikiem. Przegrał dziewięćdziesiąt dziewięć walk, pamięta każdą z nich, ale żadna go nie poniżyła - umocniła jednak w pragnieniu. Unika bliższych znajomości, odpycha przyjaciół, trenerów wprowadza w popłoch swoją złością, która kipi z niego na macie. To złość go napędza. I samotność też. Bo to od samotności paradoksalnie próbuje uciec.
Wydaje mi się, że o "Nazywam się Stephen Florida" wypowiedzieli się już wszyscy. Pisali i mówili o magnetyzmie, o niepokoju, o doskonałości, o wielkości... I taka jest ta powieść. Wielka. Majestatyczna. Potężna jak zapaśnik, który nigdy się nie poddaje, który nawet jak upada na matę wstaje, by udowodnić wszystkim wokół, że się da. Gabe Habash między słowami zaklął całą ludzką samotność, cały strach przed zapomnieniem, całą walkę jednostki o samostanowienie. Czytelnik czyta zahipnotyzowany, opętany cielesnością, przed którą nie sposób uciec, rozochocony testosteronem, który dominuje każdą kolejną stronę. Pragniemy, by sen o zwycięstwie spełnił się. By światło zamigotało się w głębinie ciemności. Dopingujemy, wrzeszczymy, kibicujemy. Już dawno powieść nie była tak fascynującą i tak intensywną przeprawą przez ludzką duszę.
Duży Buk. Zdecydowanie.
October 2, 2017
You might think of Stephen Florida as an heir to Alexander Portnoy and Holden Caulfield (“I guess I should describe myself. No, I don’t want to do that”). While I admired how Habash conveyed this character’s sometimes shaky state of mind though his offbeat prose, I didn’t particularly enjoy my time with Stephen. An orphan and a senior at North Dakota’s Oregsburg College, he’s thoroughly obsessed with becoming the nation’s champion wrestler for the 133 weight class.
Even while haunting the campus over Christmas break or job shadowing an oil roughneck, wrestling is all he can think about. He’s a loner, and his every attempt at connection with others falters: he alienates his best friend, Linus; his short-lived relationship with Mary Beth ends when she moves to Michigan for a job in a gallery; an intended reunion with Aunt Lorraine never goes ahead; and he tries to get his wrestling coach and his jazz appreciation teacher fired for their supposed misdeeds. Stephen acts and speaks like a crazed preacher—
—and the more he goes off the rails the harder it is to figure out exactly what’s going on and how much you can trust this narrator. The writing grows blunt and fragmentary to reflect Stephen’s fragile mental state. The final, grueling wrestling match is a highlight, but my favorite bit of the book may be the four-page interlude about Bird, his best friend while he was growing up, and all their exploits.
This was a puzzling and slightly frustrating book for me. Also, it struck me as a very male story that doesn’t have the same crossover appeal as works by John Irving or Chad Harbach. I think I would have enjoyed a short story or novella about this character and his self-destructive single-mindedness, but spending a whole novel with him creeped me out more than anything.
I won a proof copy in a Goodreads giveaway.
Even while haunting the campus over Christmas break or job shadowing an oil roughneck, wrestling is all he can think about. He’s a loner, and his every attempt at connection with others falters: he alienates his best friend, Linus; his short-lived relationship with Mary Beth ends when she moves to Michigan for a job in a gallery; an intended reunion with Aunt Lorraine never goes ahead; and he tries to get his wrestling coach and his jazz appreciation teacher fired for their supposed misdeeds. Stephen acts and speaks like a crazed preacher—
“Luck is to own a thicker meaning of existence, a place inside you shelled off from flabby friends and exhaustion without purpose: I’m on a one-lane road in a thick metaphorical forest with no distractions. Everything I do is intentional. To arrive at the end of the road is to know Glory in the biblical sense, to put your paternity in Glory.”
—and the more he goes off the rails the harder it is to figure out exactly what’s going on and how much you can trust this narrator. The writing grows blunt and fragmentary to reflect Stephen’s fragile mental state. The final, grueling wrestling match is a highlight, but my favorite bit of the book may be the four-page interlude about Bird, his best friend while he was growing up, and all their exploits.
This was a puzzling and slightly frustrating book for me. Also, it struck me as a very male story that doesn’t have the same crossover appeal as works by John Irving or Chad Harbach. I think I would have enjoyed a short story or novella about this character and his self-destructive single-mindedness, but spending a whole novel with him creeped me out more than anything.
I won a proof copy in a Goodreads giveaway.
June 28, 2017
You could call this a wrestling novel or you could call it a manic-depressive novel, but you'd be closer to the truth with the latter. Stephen Florida (not his real name) is in a college of sorts and wrestling is about all that's left to his life. He has suicidal thoughts. He has an imaginary demon called Frogman. He has psychotic moments that make the reader rather... uncomfortable. With characters like this, reading gets claustrophobic, but as Frost said, "The only way out is through" so you fight through.
I remember reading Vision Quest long ago in a galaxy far away. I seemed to enjoy it. Much more lighthearted than this. Nothing light about this at all. But if you're into manic psychology and not susceptible to reading bumming you out, you might take a tour.
I remember reading Vision Quest long ago in a galaxy far away. I seemed to enjoy it. Much more lighthearted than this. Nothing light about this at all. But if you're into manic psychology and not susceptible to reading bumming you out, you might take a tour.
August 12, 2017
Doubting between 3,75 en 4.
For once the promo pitch is accurate: there is nothing else like it. And Stephen as a protoganist is indeed truly unforgettable.
Gabe Habash is a very promising new writer.
For once the promo pitch is accurate: there is nothing else like it. And Stephen as a protoganist is indeed truly unforgettable.
Gabe Habash is a very promising new writer.
July 7, 2024
7/7/24: Recently reread for the 3rd or 4th time. Still one of my favorite books and I’ll still gush about it years later. No other book I’ve read has sentence-by-sentence dopamine hits just from the feeling or texture of the rhythm and the way the words string together.
Every so often in your life, if you’re lucky, you stumble on a work of art that shakes you to your core, and leaves your soul reverberating at a frequency that’s poignant and Sehnsucht. This book did that to me, and I think it’s the first time I felt that way since I read THE BROTHERS KARAMAZOV years ago.
Like Dostoevsky, Habash writes with a keen insight of the human psyche. In Stephen’s character, we venture into an abyss that’s occasionally disturbing, but always authentic and full of a profound empathy. Stephen’s story is one of obsession, loneliness, and the lasting impacts of tragic life circumstances, but it’s told in a voice that will make you laugh, cry, and even meditate on things such as the all-consuming entropy of the universe and your place in the center of the madness. Stephen’s unlike any character you’ve ever met, and you simply have to go on the journey with him.
The setting of North Dakota is an impressive backdrop for all of this. Throughout the book, you often get the impression that something sinister and unknowable may be lurking nearby in a way that evokes some of Bolaño’s short stories that I’ve read. Despite this, the book never feels heavy-handed or overly self-serious, because it’s balanced with a sense of bizarre uncanny that can be quite funny.
The supporting characters of Linus and Mary Beth are great. The plot is exciting and goes to some unexpected places. Habash’s prose is a force unto itself. But most of all, I think you’ll remember Stephen, and he’ll be one of those rare characters that you cherish for the rest of your days. Don’t sleep on this one, guys!
Every so often in your life, if you’re lucky, you stumble on a work of art that shakes you to your core, and leaves your soul reverberating at a frequency that’s poignant and Sehnsucht. This book did that to me, and I think it’s the first time I felt that way since I read THE BROTHERS KARAMAZOV years ago.
Like Dostoevsky, Habash writes with a keen insight of the human psyche. In Stephen’s character, we venture into an abyss that’s occasionally disturbing, but always authentic and full of a profound empathy. Stephen’s story is one of obsession, loneliness, and the lasting impacts of tragic life circumstances, but it’s told in a voice that will make you laugh, cry, and even meditate on things such as the all-consuming entropy of the universe and your place in the center of the madness. Stephen’s unlike any character you’ve ever met, and you simply have to go on the journey with him.
The setting of North Dakota is an impressive backdrop for all of this. Throughout the book, you often get the impression that something sinister and unknowable may be lurking nearby in a way that evokes some of Bolaño’s short stories that I’ve read. Despite this, the book never feels heavy-handed or overly self-serious, because it’s balanced with a sense of bizarre uncanny that can be quite funny.
The supporting characters of Linus and Mary Beth are great. The plot is exciting and goes to some unexpected places. Habash’s prose is a force unto itself. But most of all, I think you’ll remember Stephen, and he’ll be one of those rare characters that you cherish for the rest of your days. Don’t sleep on this one, guys!
March 15, 2018
Stephen Florida is a college wrestler with a clear-eyed, bordering on megalomaniacal, focus on winning the Division IV NCAA championship in the 133 weight category. He's a full on meaty jock completely in his own head. At turns sounding like an adolescent sportbro then veering into post-grad philosophy student that's into jazz into paranoid crazy-person with stalker tendencies.
He's fascinating to read but not anyone you'd ever want to run into in a supply closet or lying in the tall grass outside your house.
It's hard to believe that this is a debut novel - it's so far out there in terms of subject matter. We bookish folk have no problem empathizing with murderous AIs, lonely ghosts and facially deformed grade-schoolers, but an entire book centered around a jock in his senior year solely focused on wrestling? Who decides that's the hill you're going to plant your authorial flag on?
I know squat about wrestling and even writing about it Habash could be fashioning his own language of terms and moves - but it doesn't matter if it's even true - it reads like music.
It isn't mechanical, it doesn't coyly veer into the homoerotic or purely metaphorical - it's compelling. It's Moby Dick loosely played out on the vinyl surface of college wrestling mats and it surprised me how much I enjoyed this book. Gabe Habash makes it worth exploring the inside of Stephen Florida's head.
He's fascinating to read but not anyone you'd ever want to run into in a supply closet or lying in the tall grass outside your house.
It's hard to believe that this is a debut novel - it's so far out there in terms of subject matter. We bookish folk have no problem empathizing with murderous AIs, lonely ghosts and facially deformed grade-schoolers, but an entire book centered around a jock in his senior year solely focused on wrestling? Who decides that's the hill you're going to plant your authorial flag on?
I know squat about wrestling and even writing about it Habash could be fashioning his own language of terms and moves - but it doesn't matter if it's even true - it reads like music.
It isn't mechanical, it doesn't coyly veer into the homoerotic or purely metaphorical - it's compelling. It's Moby Dick loosely played out on the vinyl surface of college wrestling mats and it surprised me how much I enjoyed this book. Gabe Habash makes it worth exploring the inside of Stephen Florida's head.
April 10, 2018
Stephen Florida is uncomfortable, challenging and unique. Gabe Habash’s writing is nothing short of phenomenal. Not everyone will enjoy this book, but if you are a fan of experimental fiction, stream of consciousness, or just plain gorgeous writing, this is a MUST read. I will be shocked if it doesn’t end up on my top 5 list for 2018.
Stephen Florida is an intense look inside the mind of a young man as he unravels. Stephen is obsessed with wrestling. He dreams of winning the Division IV Wrestling Championship. He has no goals, plans, or even thoughts about what comes after. Seemingly a sports story, Stephen Florida is, at its heart, an examination of depression, loneliness and obsession.
Habash molds the everyday and mundane into a masterpiece. The monotony and boredom of Stephen’s everyday life is on full display. We are deep inside Stephen’s mind as his sanity slowly deteriorates and we watch, helpless, as his behavior becomes more and more erratic.
I am not a fan of wrestling. I don’t know the rules. Have never seen a match. Couldn’t care less. That being said, my favorite parts of this novel are the scenes in which Steven is on the mat. The writing is so confident and alive. The pace is unrelenting. It was a pleasure to read.
This book is weird, challenging and beautiful. If you enjoyed Lincoln in the Bardo, The Vegetarian or even Catcher in the Rye, I think you should read it. Stephen Florida is a piece of art.
Stephen Florida is an intense look inside the mind of a young man as he unravels. Stephen is obsessed with wrestling. He dreams of winning the Division IV Wrestling Championship. He has no goals, plans, or even thoughts about what comes after. Seemingly a sports story, Stephen Florida is, at its heart, an examination of depression, loneliness and obsession.
Habash molds the everyday and mundane into a masterpiece. The monotony and boredom of Stephen’s everyday life is on full display. We are deep inside Stephen’s mind as his sanity slowly deteriorates and we watch, helpless, as his behavior becomes more and more erratic.
I am not a fan of wrestling. I don’t know the rules. Have never seen a match. Couldn’t care less. That being said, my favorite parts of this novel are the scenes in which Steven is on the mat. The writing is so confident and alive. The pace is unrelenting. It was a pleasure to read.
This book is weird, challenging and beautiful. If you enjoyed Lincoln in the Bardo, The Vegetarian or even Catcher in the Rye, I think you should read it. Stephen Florida is a piece of art.
February 18, 2017
An unbeatable book about a (mostly) unbeatable college wrestler. This is just one bad-ass, beast of a novel. I miss Stephen Florida and all of his terrible choices, so much so that I think, only a few days after reading it, that I'm going to pick it up and start it all over again. To call Habash's writing "fresh" would be an insult-- it's like freaking ceviche, people. Fresh and tart and crazy and a little dangerous. In my humble opinion, I think Habash threw away the ending a little bit, but every single sentence up until the last few are so insatiably creative, I don't care. Can't recommend highly enough.
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