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Captive Audience: On Love and Reality TV
An intimate portrait of a marriage intertwined with a meditation on reality TV that reveals surprising connections and the meaning of an authentic life.
In Lucas Mann's trademark vein--fiercely intelligent, self-deprecating, brilliantly observed, idiosyncratic, personal, funny, and infuriating--Captive Audience is an appreciation of reality television wrapped inside a love letter to his wife, with whom he shares the guilty pleasure of watching "real" people bare their souls in search of celebrity. Captive Audience resides at the intersection of popular culture with the personal; the exhibitionist impulse, with the schadenfreude of the vicarious, and in confronting some of our most suspect impulses achieves a heightened sense of what it means to live an authentic life and what it means to love a person.
In Lucas Mann's trademark vein--fiercely intelligent, self-deprecating, brilliantly observed, idiosyncratic, personal, funny, and infuriating--Captive Audience is an appreciation of reality television wrapped inside a love letter to his wife, with whom he shares the guilty pleasure of watching "real" people bare their souls in search of celebrity. Captive Audience resides at the intersection of popular culture with the personal; the exhibitionist impulse, with the schadenfreude of the vicarious, and in confronting some of our most suspect impulses achieves a heightened sense of what it means to live an authentic life and what it means to love a person.
258 pages, Paperback
First published May 1, 2018
21 people are currently reading
1302 people want to read
About the author
Lucas Mann
11 books32 followersLucas Mann is the author of the forthcoming book Captive Audience, which will be published by Vintage in May 2018. His previous books include Lord Fear: A Memoir (Pantheon, 2015), and Class A: Baseball in the Middle of Everywhere (Pantheon, 2013), which earned a Barnes & Noble Discover Great New Writers Selection and was named one of the best books of 2013 by the San Francisco Chronicle. His essays have appeared in Slate, Gawker, Barrelhouse, TriQuarterly, Complex, and The Kenyon Review, among others. He teaches writing at the University of Massachusetts Dartmouth and lives in Providence, Rhode Island with his wife.
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Displaying 1 - 30 of 34 reviews
October 6, 2018
An impressive (and sometimes a little too ambivalent and tentative) melding of personal essay and media criticism, in which the author examines his and his wife's shared devotion to watching reality TV shows and the impact they may or may not be having on their overall experience of real life -- particularly in recent years when political wisdom and pundits make a somewhat facile case for reality TV's destruction of American politics (Trump, e.g.) and civilization. I like that Mann never settles for easy ways of describing reality TV genres and takes time to examine them both intellectually and emotionally. He's careful with the examples he cites, which keeps the book from getting bogged down in reality-show recaps. He's also good at counter-intuitively arguing for the genre's rightful place in our neverending and ever more complicated attempts (as viewers and humans) to separate the authentic from the false. But rather than make this sound like an academic tome, it's mostly a bracing and honest account of a husband's regard for his wife, as seen through their nightly viewing habits.
He's also a good writer. "Captive Audience" is one of those books where the author tries to figure out what he's truly thinking as he types along, which sometimes means a thoughtful passage can easily come undone a page later by flabbier ruminations. There's a fair bit of couching and waffling, the prose equivalent of chin-scratching; backing into arguments too carefully and padding out his opinions. (One way to sense this is to note how many times he starts or fills in a sentence with "I think ..." -- man, it's your book, we know you think it. Just say it. Stop being so gentle with us.) Still, this is a fine achievement, and much more insightful than most other books about TV. It's more like a memoir written in real time.
He's also a good writer. "Captive Audience" is one of those books where the author tries to figure out what he's truly thinking as he types along, which sometimes means a thoughtful passage can easily come undone a page later by flabbier ruminations. There's a fair bit of couching and waffling, the prose equivalent of chin-scratching; backing into arguments too carefully and padding out his opinions. (One way to sense this is to note how many times he starts or fills in a sentence with "I think ..." -- man, it's your book, we know you think it. Just say it. Stop being so gentle with us.) Still, this is a fine achievement, and much more insightful than most other books about TV. It's more like a memoir written in real time.
April 24, 2018
My favorite memoirs are the ones that push beyond the boundaries of the author's personal relationships or circumstances to engage with the cultural/political/historical phenomena that create context for the author's particular life. And my favorite cultural critics--Maggie Nelson, Hilton Als, John Berger, etc--are unafraid to engage personal feeling, memory and experience alongside the intellect. Lucas Mann accomplishes both powerfully in Captive Audience, a hybrid love letter to his wife and exploration of the curiously transfixing contemporary art genre of reality TV. What is reality, really? What is love and how does it change over time? What does it mean to watch, or be watched? Mann interrogates these stoner-type questions in writing that is elegant, deeply researched, deeply feeling, and profound.
May 9, 2018
This book is brilliant. It's about love and reality TV, yes, but also writing, truth, bodies, confession, selfishness, generosity—everything. It's fascinating and funny and sad and beautiful. I couldn't put it down. I loved it so much.
May 19, 2018
When is comes to Lucas Mann, the one thing people can agree on is that he's *spectacular*.
Some say he's a spectacular success, others a spectacular failure, but it's hard to be lukewarm about his work.
I'm decidedly in the success camp, having loved his first two books. I appreciate the uniqueness of his voice, the seeming inexhaustibly to his self-inquiry (which then, of course, necessitates an inquiry of his self-inquiry). Each of his books is nominally about an exterior subject (minor league baseball, his brother's death, reality television), but the undercurrent is a running inquiry about how he himself is reacting to events, how he recalls them, whether he can stand by his telling of them.
For some, this will become inane ("I came here for baseball, not feelings" etc), so do not enter lightly. But if you do enter, open yourself up to the possibility that you will be changed by the experience.
The subject matter here did not work for me quite so well as the first two. Still, Mann managed to elevate the subject in a new way that I appreciated. I also think his structure could have used some reinforcement. I appreciate the fact that he jumps back and forth in time, but it was hard to keep track of what he was examining from one break to the next; the chapter breaks weren't clear in their function either. But, like he says, he doesn't like simple resolution in his television, so what should I expect it from his chapters? This book is a roundabout jog through the author's thoughts on reality television, marriage, and lots more. When it works, it really works. And I'd definitely recommend it, though perhaps it makes most sense as a follow-on and partial commentary upon the first two works.
Some say he's a spectacular success, others a spectacular failure, but it's hard to be lukewarm about his work.
I'm decidedly in the success camp, having loved his first two books. I appreciate the uniqueness of his voice, the seeming inexhaustibly to his self-inquiry (which then, of course, necessitates an inquiry of his self-inquiry). Each of his books is nominally about an exterior subject (minor league baseball, his brother's death, reality television), but the undercurrent is a running inquiry about how he himself is reacting to events, how he recalls them, whether he can stand by his telling of them.
For some, this will become inane ("I came here for baseball, not feelings" etc), so do not enter lightly. But if you do enter, open yourself up to the possibility that you will be changed by the experience.
The subject matter here did not work for me quite so well as the first two. Still, Mann managed to elevate the subject in a new way that I appreciated. I also think his structure could have used some reinforcement. I appreciate the fact that he jumps back and forth in time, but it was hard to keep track of what he was examining from one break to the next; the chapter breaks weren't clear in their function either. But, like he says, he doesn't like simple resolution in his television, so what should I expect it from his chapters? This book is a roundabout jog through the author's thoughts on reality television, marriage, and lots more. When it works, it really works. And I'd definitely recommend it, though perhaps it makes most sense as a follow-on and partial commentary upon the first two works.
February 19, 2018
The description of Captive Audience offered by the publisher implies that the book is a timely study of reality TV (though Trump is not explicitly mentioned) and a watcher's relationship with it. Instead, the format is descriptions of scenes from reality TV shows, interviews with people involved in the creation of reality TV programs, and the author's thoughts of reality TV....... all interspersed with scenes from his life with his wife (who also watches a lot of reality TV). This format did not work for me. There were some interesting insights, but it was jarring when the topic switched to an argument between the author and his wife, possible followed by some make-up sex.
This book was tough to get through. I thought about giving up several times, but completed it in order to give an informed review. (The author mentions that he occasionally reads Amazon reviews of his work, so I feel guilty now for not enjoying it more). I have had Lord Fear on my TBR pile for a long time; hopefully it is a more enjoyable read.
I received an ARC of this book in exchange for an honest review.
This book was tough to get through. I thought about giving up several times, but completed it in order to give an informed review. (The author mentions that he occasionally reads Amazon reviews of his work, so I feel guilty now for not enjoying it more). I have had Lord Fear on my TBR pile for a long time; hopefully it is a more enjoyable read.
I received an ARC of this book in exchange for an honest review.
April 2, 2018
The real condemnation of this book is that it "needed" writing, that it exists.
Love?
Reap now,
I have twisted art
and sculpted love away from the heart.
Chris Roberts, God Ascendant
Love?
Reap now,
I have twisted art
and sculpted love away from the heart.
Chris Roberts, God Ascendant
January 5, 2019
I always feel differently about books when I read them on work trips. The trips are always to do readings or teach workshops, and they involve a brief bustle of public-facing activity surrounded by hours of solitude (on the train/plane, having dinner, in a hotel room) during which I read. At those times, the voices in books speak to me in familiar tones; I feel like I've spent time with the author, like they've accompanied me on the trip.
Because of this, it's difficult for me to assess this book objectively – is it actually a good book, or did I just love it? Or does my love of it make it a good book regardless? Anyway, I made 48 bookmarks in this, so I obviously did love it.
Because of this, it's difficult for me to assess this book objectively – is it actually a good book, or did I just love it? Or does my love of it make it a good book regardless? Anyway, I made 48 bookmarks in this, so I obviously did love it.
July 11, 2019
This book was a perfect combination of thoughtfulness and love for reality television. I actually had no idea how beautifully written and profound this book would end up being; in many ways it's a love letter to his wife, his couch companion. I ended up breaking this book up in chunks to make it last longer and let things resonate.
December 27, 2024
Beautiful and moving. Raw and real, or at least as real as the stories we tell ourselves that become realer in their retelling.
July 6, 2024
A random library pick that I really enjoyed! I don’t think everyone will like this book, but it truly spoke to me. I related so much to Lucas Mann’s relationship with reality TV, which started as a coping mechanism in childhood and still serves as a somewhat guilty escape from his own insecurities and fears. I found myself pausing to reread and contemplate passages that articulated nagging thoughts or gut feelings that I hadn’t found the words for.
Most of the book explores his musings on society’s mixed disdain/enthusiasm for reality TV personalities, highlighting a dozen different shows and scenarios, many of which I remember watching live. I particularly loved his writing style: beautiful and flowing, at times rambling. The essay format worked well, but it did feel a little repetitive by the end.
Mann also intersperses scenes from his own relationship, which vary in success. I understand the point of highlighting “ordinary love and life” and examining our relationships to ourselves and our loved ones, and what reality TV says about all of those things. But I finished the book wanting their story to be either more fleshed out or omitted altogether — I’m still not sure which.
My main gripe is the author’s internalized fatphobia that appears in his descriptions of himself, his wife and various TV personalities. He discusses his struggle with self-image at length, but some of his descriptions of other people left a bad taste in my mouth.
Most of the book explores his musings on society’s mixed disdain/enthusiasm for reality TV personalities, highlighting a dozen different shows and scenarios, many of which I remember watching live. I particularly loved his writing style: beautiful and flowing, at times rambling. The essay format worked well, but it did feel a little repetitive by the end.
Mann also intersperses scenes from his own relationship, which vary in success. I understand the point of highlighting “ordinary love and life” and examining our relationships to ourselves and our loved ones, and what reality TV says about all of those things. But I finished the book wanting their story to be either more fleshed out or omitted altogether — I’m still not sure which.
My main gripe is the author’s internalized fatphobia that appears in his descriptions of himself, his wife and various TV personalities. He discusses his struggle with self-image at length, but some of his descriptions of other people left a bad taste in my mouth.
January 2, 2020
A meditation relevant to almost any American and those privilege enough to experience our television. This book length essay, this meditation, tells a story of love through the lens of reality television. Mann explores different types of love, mostly those of rich straight people, and weaves together interview, inquiry, and a personal tale of romance into one coherent work of beauty.
May 18, 2019
If there is such a thing as hate-watching a book, then I have experienced this sensation with Captive Audience. Which is kind of funny, actually, because one of the primary goals of Lucas Mann's book seems to be to shame people for hate-watching reality television. If you are a person who, like me, enjoys watching a show like The Bachelorette primarily to make fun of the people on it, then you are very much in the right. People who are willing to put themselves on display in such a way -- who are willing to commit themselves to a prolonged social experiment that is designed to toy with their emotions mercilessly for fun and profit -- know what they are getting themselves into. They are ridiculous and they have signed up to be ridiculed, and we should all oblige them freely and happily.
Mann disagrees.
He sees something noble in reality television stars. Something profound and poignant and achingly worthwhile. He seems torn whether to call their motivations "authentic" or not, but whatever they're up to, he seems sincerely upset that society is so willing to wring them out for entertainment and then metaphorically cast them aside as the lowest form of life on the Hollywood food chain.
Reality is very, very meaningful to Mann. The list of unscripted shows he rattles off near the start of the book, claiming to have watched each one in its entirety, is disturbing in its length and also a bit puzzling. I found myself wondering, "when has this guy found the time to write and publish anything, let alone three books?" What's more, Mann watched and watches all of them with his loyal companion by his side: his wife, and seems to have conflated this watching with a manifestation of their love, or a comment on it, or a version of it... or something. Honestly, it's hard to tell what Mann is trying to say half the time. His prose is discursive, unsure, self-doubting. It repeatedly doubles back on itself, making something that feels like a point, then immediately undermining it. The goal, I think, must be to come across as earnestly ruminative, to let the reader in on Mann's struggle to make sense of the heady subject matter that is, say, The Real Housewives of Atlanta. Instead it has the opposite effect. It feels like Mann is working overtime to make reality television feel important, to justify his reason for writing so, so much about it, while also second-guessing his desire to do so. I think this is supposed to come across as charming, but I wasn't charmed. I wanted Mann to fully understand what he wanted to say about reality and why he wanted to say it, and start his book from there. I wanted him to be concise and efficient, as opposed to taking us on his meandering intellectual journey toward a discovery that never materializes.
Mann addresses all this to his wife, referring to her as "you" throughout the proceedings, as though all this excessively self-indulgent mental noodling is for her. I have to believe she tolerated it gently, perhaps a little baffled that he wrote an entire book built from their times sitting on the couch and watching trash TV together, then actually published it for the world to see.
But then hey, I guess that's what reality television is all about. It's about letting everyone look behind the curtain of your life, whether your life merits such curtain-pulling or not. In this, I guess Mann has kind of written the pseudo-intellectual, epistolary memoir version of a reality television show. If that was actually his intent (again, hard to say exactly what he's going for here), I guess he pulled it off. I just wish it wasn't 250 pages long. A magazine article or nice blog entry would have gotten the same point across just fine.
Mann disagrees.
He sees something noble in reality television stars. Something profound and poignant and achingly worthwhile. He seems torn whether to call their motivations "authentic" or not, but whatever they're up to, he seems sincerely upset that society is so willing to wring them out for entertainment and then metaphorically cast them aside as the lowest form of life on the Hollywood food chain.
Reality is very, very meaningful to Mann. The list of unscripted shows he rattles off near the start of the book, claiming to have watched each one in its entirety, is disturbing in its length and also a bit puzzling. I found myself wondering, "when has this guy found the time to write and publish anything, let alone three books?" What's more, Mann watched and watches all of them with his loyal companion by his side: his wife, and seems to have conflated this watching with a manifestation of their love, or a comment on it, or a version of it... or something. Honestly, it's hard to tell what Mann is trying to say half the time. His prose is discursive, unsure, self-doubting. It repeatedly doubles back on itself, making something that feels like a point, then immediately undermining it. The goal, I think, must be to come across as earnestly ruminative, to let the reader in on Mann's struggle to make sense of the heady subject matter that is, say, The Real Housewives of Atlanta. Instead it has the opposite effect. It feels like Mann is working overtime to make reality television feel important, to justify his reason for writing so, so much about it, while also second-guessing his desire to do so. I think this is supposed to come across as charming, but I wasn't charmed. I wanted Mann to fully understand what he wanted to say about reality and why he wanted to say it, and start his book from there. I wanted him to be concise and efficient, as opposed to taking us on his meandering intellectual journey toward a discovery that never materializes.
Mann addresses all this to his wife, referring to her as "you" throughout the proceedings, as though all this excessively self-indulgent mental noodling is for her. I have to believe she tolerated it gently, perhaps a little baffled that he wrote an entire book built from their times sitting on the couch and watching trash TV together, then actually published it for the world to see.
But then hey, I guess that's what reality television is all about. It's about letting everyone look behind the curtain of your life, whether your life merits such curtain-pulling or not. In this, I guess Mann has kind of written the pseudo-intellectual, epistolary memoir version of a reality television show. If that was actually his intent (again, hard to say exactly what he's going for here), I guess he pulled it off. I just wish it wasn't 250 pages long. A magazine article or nice blog entry would have gotten the same point across just fine.
May 25, 2018
I won this book in a Goodreads giveaway.
When I entered the giveaway I figured this would be funny, but it's not. It's a serious look at one man's reality TV consumption... kind of. It was a weird mix of memoir and research based non-fiction and I found myself loving chunks of the book and slogging through others.
What I liked:
I enjoyed his interviews with producers and research surrounding reality TV. Kind of wish there was a references section at the end (maybe I got an ARC and it's to come)? I also liked any time he described a big "event" on a show. I don't regularly watch many of the shows mentioned, but I knew enough about them to read along and enjoy his takeaways.
What I didn't like:
The format as a group of essays written to his wife about their life as it relates to reality TV (among other things). I'd fly through a passage, land on a "you" and have to remind myself that "you" is his wife and not me. I didn't love using their relationship as a frame for the story. Maybe if it was only from his perspective and not this quasi-shared experience since we never got her perspective. I felt really sad when I thought about how much time they were spending on the couch. I know they had other experiences, but since this was about TV that's all we saw (minus getting high and in fights. So not a great picture--- though near the end he addresses that, which I appreciated). I was so happy for his wife when she got a friend, then bummed when said friend left.
If I was the editor on this book I would have added chapter/essay titles. Sometimes it felt like there was a point, but essays seemed to ramble on or cycle back to the couch with his wife without resolution. I often wondered where we were headed. (Plus, titles would be helpful for folks who want to go back a re-read a specific essay.) The Trump chapter felt like an afterthought after SO MUCH exposition re: folks like Nene. So, editor, I get why you asked for it, but maybe give your author a bit more time to refine.
Overall, it felt like reading two books: a well-researched book about reality TV and a memoir about feeling insecure about liking reality TV (and reminding us how smart / high brow he can be in other aspects of his life). I get it, but duuuuuude just own your hobby. It's ok to like crappy TV--especially when you're dealing with heavy stuff in other aspects of life. I think he kind of got there in the end, but I have to admit I was zoning out.
Mann is a good writer, but this was just OK for me. It took me a long time to get through, but I kept going back because of those great passages. Hope he doesn't read this, but if he does ... I enjoyed this, but next time pick a path. It's ok to like shitty stuff and still be smart!
When I entered the giveaway I figured this would be funny, but it's not. It's a serious look at one man's reality TV consumption... kind of. It was a weird mix of memoir and research based non-fiction and I found myself loving chunks of the book and slogging through others.
What I liked:
I enjoyed his interviews with producers and research surrounding reality TV. Kind of wish there was a references section at the end (maybe I got an ARC and it's to come)? I also liked any time he described a big "event" on a show. I don't regularly watch many of the shows mentioned, but I knew enough about them to read along and enjoy his takeaways.
What I didn't like:
The format as a group of essays written to his wife about their life as it relates to reality TV (among other things). I'd fly through a passage, land on a "you" and have to remind myself that "you" is his wife and not me. I didn't love using their relationship as a frame for the story. Maybe if it was only from his perspective and not this quasi-shared experience since we never got her perspective. I felt really sad when I thought about how much time they were spending on the couch. I know they had other experiences, but since this was about TV that's all we saw (minus getting high and in fights. So not a great picture--- though near the end he addresses that, which I appreciated). I was so happy for his wife when she got a friend, then bummed when said friend left.
If I was the editor on this book I would have added chapter/essay titles. Sometimes it felt like there was a point, but essays seemed to ramble on or cycle back to the couch with his wife without resolution. I often wondered where we were headed. (Plus, titles would be helpful for folks who want to go back a re-read a specific essay.) The Trump chapter felt like an afterthought after SO MUCH exposition re: folks like Nene. So, editor, I get why you asked for it, but maybe give your author a bit more time to refine.
Overall, it felt like reading two books: a well-researched book about reality TV and a memoir about feeling insecure about liking reality TV (and reminding us how smart / high brow he can be in other aspects of his life). I get it, but duuuuuude just own your hobby. It's ok to like crappy TV--especially when you're dealing with heavy stuff in other aspects of life. I think he kind of got there in the end, but I have to admit I was zoning out.
Mann is a good writer, but this was just OK for me. It took me a long time to get through, but I kept going back because of those great passages. Hope he doesn't read this, but if he does ... I enjoyed this, but next time pick a path. It's ok to like shitty stuff and still be smart!
January 10, 2023
vacillated between 2 and 3 stars. I like reality TV, and i like a lot of memoir, but this particular blend of the two didn't work well for me, I think for a few reasons:
1. Format (it's in second person, written to I believe his wife -- I may have missed an explicit statement of the relationship status, but partner anyway and I'm pretty sure female partner) was arrestingly different at first, but ultimately a little grating and tedious to me across several hundred pages. For a few observations about how TV watching fit in their relationship it was relevant, but more often it came across a little affected. You can just say "The Sister Wives' scene in which so-and-so describes feeling lonely was really sad and speaks to....." without pretending that the book is a medium for telling your wife that.
2. Not the author's fault of course, but nonoverlap in what we watch detracted from my interest. Almost nothing here on Survivor or any aspect of the Bachelor franchise for instance. Lots on Real Housewives, which i hear about but have not seen beyond a few minutes once or twice. So deep dive on the implications of Nene's going off on her friends etc. didn't mean much to me. By analogy, John Keim's pods dissecting Commanders games are compelling for me, but i don't think i could listen to a 40-minute breakdown of a Falcons loss i hadn't seen.
3. Just a little over-analytical for the topic matter IMO. In particular, he seemed unduly self-conscious about immersing himself in watching a form of entertainment that is decidedly lowbrow. I felt like intervening a few times and just saying "Dude, it's ok. You find it entertaining, so go ahead and watch. If you enjoy watching videos of animals being harmed, you have a problem, but if you like watching adults voluntarily going on screen to have ridiculous contrived interactions, and you limit the time invested in this way enough that you can hold down a job, exercise regularly, and have relationships, it's fine. Don't let your opera-loving friend give you a hard time about it"
1. Format (it's in second person, written to I believe his wife -- I may have missed an explicit statement of the relationship status, but partner anyway and I'm pretty sure female partner) was arrestingly different at first, but ultimately a little grating and tedious to me across several hundred pages. For a few observations about how TV watching fit in their relationship it was relevant, but more often it came across a little affected. You can just say "The Sister Wives' scene in which so-and-so describes feeling lonely was really sad and speaks to....." without pretending that the book is a medium for telling your wife that.
2. Not the author's fault of course, but nonoverlap in what we watch detracted from my interest. Almost nothing here on Survivor or any aspect of the Bachelor franchise for instance. Lots on Real Housewives, which i hear about but have not seen beyond a few minutes once or twice. So deep dive on the implications of Nene's going off on her friends etc. didn't mean much to me. By analogy, John Keim's pods dissecting Commanders games are compelling for me, but i don't think i could listen to a 40-minute breakdown of a Falcons loss i hadn't seen.
3. Just a little over-analytical for the topic matter IMO. In particular, he seemed unduly self-conscious about immersing himself in watching a form of entertainment that is decidedly lowbrow. I felt like intervening a few times and just saying "Dude, it's ok. You find it entertaining, so go ahead and watch. If you enjoy watching videos of animals being harmed, you have a problem, but if you like watching adults voluntarily going on screen to have ridiculous contrived interactions, and you limit the time invested in this way enough that you can hold down a job, exercise regularly, and have relationships, it's fine. Don't let your opera-loving friend give you a hard time about it"
January 29, 2019
I wasn't sure what to expect when I picked up Lucas Mann's *Captive Audience: On Love and Reality TV* as I like to convince myself that I am "above" the trappings of reality TV (a denial that is in itself a performative move to be seen as a particular character and that Mann reveals is the narrative desire that drives reality TV and our own stilted attempts to author our own narratives). What I discovered was inside the pages was a profoundly honest and self-aware engagement with the way in which we human beings struggle with the desire to be seen, to make meaning, and to have significance. Mann's work moves deftly between cultural analysis, a guilty/not so guilty love for the subject matter, honest memoir, and the meta-narrative critique of how often our own attempts at honest memoir are shaped and shaded by a need to perform. It is about so much more than reality TV. It is a meditation on the narrative character of subjectivity,the limits of our agency in forming the story of our lives and the importance of connection and community in that story. The final chapter reflects on the horrors of how our current political environment is a reality show that has broken the fourth wall in disturbing, dangerous ways. Mann doesn't offer any trite solutions nor does he shy away from the disorienting state of current affairs. He does come back, as the book does repeatedly, to the fragile but necessary role of real human connection. And that, in itself, is worth attending to thoughtfully.
December 12, 2024
Mann does a lot of work in this book: research work, reportage work, scene work, personal reflection work. And that's admirable and all, but the fact that he does all that dense, heavy work for like 350 pages straight is also very annoying (in an enviable way), especially to writers who can only confidently do half of that. As someone who doesn't really follow reality television, I found the examination of this sub culture really fascinating, especially considering that (at time of writing) there still wasn't a whole lot of scholarship on this subject. I like how it doesn't do that much handholding towards an ignorant audience (like me), and despite that I didn't ever really feel lost to understand a reference, possibly because, as the book posits, reality tv culture is so pervasive. The personal sections were also well balanced, taking risks with an idea or confession at times while also avoiding the typical pitfalls of memoir writing. It makes sense to thread the two in this book about non-famous people basically being famous for being extremely transparent versions of themselves. I'm also impressed when anyone can make me give a shit about heterosexual relationships. Finally, for a book about a subject matter that seems to evolve every time you blink, this book still feels very relevant in terms of the references and overall commentary.
May 3, 2018
Mann is a confessional writer. He watches reality TV. He loves his wife. He analyzes the shows the watch, the way the watch them, the conversations they have about them, and wonders if there is any thing to be gleaned from all this watching; what it might say about their relationship.
As someone who frequently watches reality TV with my wife, I got a kick out of his analyses of various shows. And as someone who often defends confessional writing - for what is more intriguing than a psyche laid bare? - I thought I'd dig his style.
I hate to say it (one of Mann's confessions was that he sometimes read reviews of his works), but I found Captive Audience a bit too confessional. I enjoy a good cringe, but maybe the cringe:realization ratio was off. In the end, I'm still not sure what watching reality TV with one's wife means, which made his confessions seem simply like a psyche-baring for the sake of psyche-baring. You know, kind of like a reality TV character...
As someone who frequently watches reality TV with my wife, I got a kick out of his analyses of various shows. And as someone who often defends confessional writing - for what is more intriguing than a psyche laid bare? - I thought I'd dig his style.
I hate to say it (one of Mann's confessions was that he sometimes read reviews of his works), but I found Captive Audience a bit too confessional. I enjoy a good cringe, but maybe the cringe:realization ratio was off. In the end, I'm still not sure what watching reality TV with one's wife means, which made his confessions seem simply like a psyche-baring for the sake of psyche-baring. You know, kind of like a reality TV character...
October 12, 2020
Was really not expecting to like this, nothing about a book about a white Cis het man’s love and how it relates to reality TV sounded interesting to me. But? It was? Mann very carefully crafts a balanced narrative of his own lives and the lives of countless others he and his wife have watched on TV. The reflection is personal yet relatable, most people have participated in this very act, watching that is. This book is a very good and interesting reflection on what it means to watch, what the flaws are of being a watcher, what Mann’s flaws are. I was stroke by the problematic honesty of this book, how Mann owns many of his actions and their inherent flaws (not asking for forgiveness from his audience but just acknowledging). Idk if this really says anything but I just thought it was good and breathtaking and insightful and naive and none of that all at once in a way that reflects the subject matter of reality TV so well.
May 15, 2018
This is a great book that made me think and feel deeply about love and reality TV, the tension between wanting and not wanting to be seen, between complicity and empathy, between the real and the contrived. Reading "Captive Audience" was an unusual experience. It's satisfying because the author lifts the curtain, shows us a life of love, which he weaves into the conversation about reality TV; but it's also sometimes uncomfortable, like perhaps I should turn away because it's getting too personal. Almost like a reality show, which is what I feel the author intended. Bleeding through the punctum is something genuine: the authors voice - self-deprecating and sensitive, never satisfied with the surface, always searching for the humanity in the objectified, often vilified, people behind reality TV.
May 8, 2024
I have a lot of thoughts about this. some really profound and powerful reflections on what it means to see and be seen, but to be honest, the voice of the author really turned me off. I didn’t like the way he talked about his partner, and I didn’t like the way he handled speaking about his own blatantly racist past behaviors. it felt self-pitying in a camouflaged sort of way
maybe that was intentional—the whole “hate read” thing might have actually been some point about the American condition. but I don’t get the sense that it was. or maybe I’ve just gone to school with too many white dude writers who think that simply confessing the wrong is in itself redemption. spoiler alert, it’s not.
maybe that was intentional—the whole “hate read” thing might have actually been some point about the American condition. but I don’t get the sense that it was. or maybe I’ve just gone to school with too many white dude writers who think that simply confessing the wrong is in itself redemption. spoiler alert, it’s not.
March 5, 2024
This book is a stream of consciousness Love letter as told through the couples experience with reality television. There are moments where the author is saying “I remember when you and I… and then you said… And then I replied…” while also expanding on interesting tangents connected to their love through the guilty pleasure pop culture media they watch. I, personally, hate the POV that this is written in which makes it very hard for me to finish the book, but if you are really into stream of consciousness, ramblings, written letter or Love poems this book would be right up your alley.
May 31, 2019
Didn’t work for me. The author’s need to over-intellectualize everything and simultaneously make it about him and his girlfriend came across as both self indulgent and an extended justification for his love of reality tv.
But of the medium itself, he had precious little to add. He references the previous scholarship on reality tv, clearly hoping to place himself within it, but the book lacks substance.
White male mediocrity masquerading as tiresome intellectual posturing.
Pass.
But of the medium itself, he had precious little to add. He references the previous scholarship on reality tv, clearly hoping to place himself within it, but the book lacks substance.
White male mediocrity masquerading as tiresome intellectual posturing.
Pass.
June 8, 2020
The author would drive me bonkers if he was my boyfriend. That saying I would also probably read one more book of his just to see.
"We meaning you and me, but also in that awful think-piecey way, standing in for the culture...the attention given to sociopaths, and the public pain that results from the potent mixture of attention and sociopathy, only exists because there are reliable consumers who enjoy the cocktail. And then we wait for more of the same, so more of the same is provided."
"We meaning you and me, but also in that awful think-piecey way, standing in for the culture...the attention given to sociopaths, and the public pain that results from the potent mixture of attention and sociopathy, only exists because there are reliable consumers who enjoy the cocktail. And then we wait for more of the same, so more of the same is provided."
January 9, 2019
What Chad Harbach did for baseball in The Art of Fielding, Mann does for reality TV. With a sharp eye for the telling minutiae of performance, he makes NeNe, the Housewives, Kim, Khloe, and Kris beautiful -- entertaining, human, moving, fierce, sometimes awe-inspiring, and never repellent, even when they are. You will feel complicit by the end of this loving, surprising, and brutally honest book.
April 8, 2019
I kept on putting down this book to watch Sister Wives or Married at First Sight, and it wasn’t because I didn’t love it - I did! - it’s because I never wanted it to end and thought the author would approve of me drawing it out in this way. Read this book if you have ever been in love, watched a reality television show, or had DJT as your president.
October 31, 2018
One of the best books I’ve read in a long time. A beautiful reflection on relationships and reality TV, exploring human nature and the psychology of vulnerability, shame, authenticity, ambition and narcissism. An excellent blending of memoir and essay.
April 5, 2021
I know some people dug this book, but I got 3% in before I could no longer deal with Mann's ponderings. It takes a lot for me to give up on a book. I've literally been trying on and off for three years before finally walking away.
October 9, 2018
I dont know what he is saying and I find I don’t care.
June 22, 2019
DNF at about halfway. The format wasn’t for me.
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