Apartment

by Teddy Wayne

Longlisted for the 2020 Simpson / Joyce Carol Oates Literary Prize
One of Vogue.com’s “Best Books of 2020 So Far”
One of Elle’s “Best Books of 2020 So Far”

Named A Most-Anticipated Book by The New York Times , Vogue, The Boston Globe, Salon,
The Millions, Inside Hook, and Vol. 1 Brooklyn

In 1996, the unnamed narrator of Teddy Wayne’s Apartment is attending the MFA writing program at Columbia on his father’s dime and living in an illegal sublet of a rent-stabilized apartment. Feeling guilty about his good fortune, he offers his spare bedroom--rent-free--to Billy, a talented, charismatic classmate from the Midwest eking out a hand-to-mouth existence in Manhattan.

The narrator’s rapport with Billy develops into the friendship he’s never had due to a lifetime of holding people at arm’s length, hovering at the periphery, feeling “fundamentally defective.” But their living arrangement, not to mention their radically different upbringings, breeds tensions neither man could predict. Interrogating the origins of our contemporary political divide and its ties to masculinity and class, Apartment is a gutting portrait of one of New York’s many lost, disconnected souls by a writer with an uncommon aptitude for embodying them.

Genres: Fiction, Contemporary, Literary Fiction, LGBT, Novels, Queer, Adult

199 pages, Hardcover

First published February 25, 2020

About the author

Teddy Wayne is the author of the novels "The Winner" (2024), "The Great Man Theory" (2022), "Apartment" (2020), "Loner" (2016), "The Love Song of Jonny Valentine" (2013) and "Kapitoil" (2010) and is the recipient of a Whiting Writers' Award, an NEA Creative Writing Fellowship, the PEN/Robert W. Bingham Prize runner-up, and a finalist for the Young Lions Fiction Award finalist and the Dayton Literary Peace Prize.

Reviews

[Glenn Russell]

Apartment buildings in Manhattan's StuyTown

Apartment - Teddy Wayne's penetrating portrait of a lonely 24-year-old wannabe novelist living in an illegal sublet of a StuyTown apartment (paid for by his father) as he pursues a graduate degree in writing (also paid for by his father). At the center of the story is the unnamed narrator's friendship with a fellow writing student - dirt poor, unassuming, Illinois bred Billy Campbell, a young man with a special gift for writing fiction.

Since this recently published book has received a good number of reviews already, both on Goodreads and elsewhere, I will make a quick shift to focus on a few points that might otherwise be overlooked. And I'll include snips of my own experience in the mix. Also, I'll give our unnamed narrator a name: Chad.

INSTITUTIONAL INTIMIDATION
“There is no good reason, at this stage of your life, to play it safe and hold back,” she’d said. “This is the time to experiment and make mistakes and open yourself up to brutally honest feedback. That’s the only way to grow as an artist. Fail again, fail better.” So proclaims older published novelist Sylvia to the twelve graduate students in her fiction writing workshop at Columbia University’s Master of Fine Arts Writing Program.

Although there’s an undeniable measure of wisdom in her advice for a beginning writer to experiment and open up to brutally honest feedback, my sense is such feedback is ideally conducted one on one, teacher and student. The last thing a beginning writer needs is to be publicly scalded and humiliated, most especially in front of members of the opposite sex. Exactly the fate of sensitive Chad.

Quick aside: when I first began writing, I attended a writers’ group of men and women like myself, hovering around age 40, all unpublished. First session I read my surreal flash fiction. The group sliced and diced my writing but I stuck to my vision and sent out my microfiction as I wrote it. At our second session, I shared the good news: a batch of my flash fiction was accepted for publication. Some grumbling words of congratulations. At our third session I let everyone know more great news: another batch of my flash fiction was accepted and two editors in particular asked me to send more. Silence. It became painfully clear the writing group did not want me to return. Takeaway message: avoid group feedback; seek out an empathetic teacher/experienced writer for help one on one.

Unfortunately Clad and everyone else in the class must remain in the class and continue to subject their writing to public scorn. Such are the dynamics when you are after a formal college degree. Ooh, you're a graduate of Columbia’s MFA program! Oh, wow! Maybe you'll be hired by a college to teach writing. Exactly the goal of a number of students in the program.

PATHETIC CLOWN
“You know what ruined the country?” he asked rhetorically, since no one else was saying much. "Abolishing the draft. You’re all removed from real suffering, your own and other people’s. Someone else does the dirty work while you watch movies about tornadoes and space aliens. It’s made your generation a bunch of epicene candy-asses.” Harsh judgement rendered at an uptown pub by Stockton, the workshop’s new professor, a “fiftysomething fire hydrant of a man” who’s a twice divorced alcoholic.

Put-down of the young - regrettably, typical in many of such older men I’ve had the misfortune to come in contact with. One can only wonder what Chad and Billy make of this older man’s words since Stockton couldn’t take marriage and we can infer he also couldn’t take being a good father (both Chad and Billy had a father that left their mother). If I happened to be at the pub, I’d confront Stockton directly, asking him: What gives you the right to put down younger men? After all, you’re obviously a vulgar slob, a jowly, potbellied pig, a booze hound tied to a whisky bottle who couldn’t even begin to be a good husband or father - not to mention the fact your creative output ended decades ago.

On a personal note, I’ve never put down younger men (or women), never pulled rank suggesting I’m more knowledgeable or wiser since I’m older. Why would I? When I think back on all those physically and mentally constipated louts who put me down for being young it makes my blood boil. Well, respecting those now dead oldsters – may their livers rest in peace.

THE LONG SHADOW OF MARXISM
"I don't have a dad who pays for everything. This" - he tapped his laptop - "is all I have, man. It's the only thing I've got that gives me a chance not to be a bartender the rest of my life." So Billy tells Chad. No denying it - the truth of Marxism remains: a person's underlying everyday reality and range of choices is defined by one question: Are you rich or are you poor?

CONCLUDING REMARKS
This Teddy Wayne novel is so worth a reader's time. We're given a panoramic tour of not only the narrator's heart and mind but, as if standing at the window of an upper story Manhattan apartment, a broad view of 1990s society and culture.



"I'd long been curious how, exactly, other people who had their days mostly to themselves filled them up. I wasn't so much a procrastinator as a time waster getting my work done and then frittering away the spare hours with lackadaisical urgency, half-reading a handful of magazine articles and roaming stores for thirty minutes when five would suffice. Billy was ruthlessly economical with his limited freedom. No matter how late he'd been out or how much he'd drunk the previous night, he wrote at least a little the next day, and when he didn't have the handicaps of a hangover or external commitments, he was a pack mule, working hours without a break." - Teddy Wayne, Apartment


American author Teddy Wayne, born 1979

[emma · Rating 3 out of 5]

Never in my life have I been so anxious over nothing.

Okay, to be fair, that is a blatant falsehood. I'm an anxious girl. Anxiety is my resting state.

But while READING?

From page 1 of this book, I was waiting for a shoe to drop that never quite came. This is kind of a book about nothing, in which nothing happens.

This is not an insult, by the way. Many of my favorite books in the world are works of literary fiction with no plot to be found.

But the low-level worry that something horrible or shocking or worst of all, secondhand-embarrassing was about to happen was not pleasant.

And then it just turned out sad.

So while this is a good book...

File under never-ever-ever rereading.

Bottom line: All my least favorite emotions in one well-written place!

clear ur shit prompt 8: your smallest book
follow my progress here

(thanks to the publisher for the copy)

[Robin · Rating 4 out of 5]

Gosh. Teddy Wayne is some writer. I knew this already, after having been fascinated and thrilled a few years ago, by Loner, but I believe this book really cements my opinion. I mean, when a writer can make me truly care and clutch my pearls with a story about a couple of young, fairly "privileged" white guys attending an ivy league university, he's really done his job.

It just goes to show that alienation knows no "privilege". Loneliness can find anyone where they are, and it is devastating. My heart broke for the unnamed narrator here. He sweats profusely, he feels awkward in almost any social situation, he feels he has to buy friendship. Oh, and he's a struggling writer. Needless to say, I couldn't put the book down. Teddy Wayne really gets the subtleties of social interaction. He knows how to create tension. He also understands the different levels of "privilege" - not all of them are socioeconomic, or race-related.

Anyone who was drawn into the Pulitzer winning Less will likely enjoy this too, though I'd say Apartment is much darker than Greer's book. That said, I should mention it does paint a truly entertaining picture of 1990s popular culture. And anyone who has participated in a creative writing workshop will be heartily amused as well.

Bravo, Teddy Wayne. I think I'll have to find a copy of The Love Song of Jonny Valentine one day soon.

[Elyse Walters · Rating 4 out of 5]

Engaging....
Compelling....
.....a slow start....but ultimately cerebrally-enjoyable- in an exasperating way....with two young flawed pretentious-competitive - lads - as different as night and day...( social class differences, viewpoint differences, style differences, visions for the future, political, economical, cultural differences, motivation, etc.)....
who meet in the MFA fiction-writing program at Columbia University in 1996.
The unnamed narrator invites Billy to move into a spare room in his apartment....not in New York... ( but near).... in ‘not-an-actual-town called “Stuy Town”. Billy gets to live rent free in exchange for helping keep the apt. clean. These guys had only known each other for two weeks. A little more back story into why the narrator lived in that apartment in the first place.
‘Stuyvesant Town’ was a residential development just north east of the East Village. It’s huge, something like hundred apartment buildings.....
One could get loss... but getting loss finding ‘their apt.’, was the least of the guys problems. Tensions build between the two of them. Both men were lonely...but the author examines their loneliness from different perspectives....and subtly.

The unnamed narrator see’s Billy in a bar after class - at the start of the semester:
“I hadn’t gotten a good look at him up close before. His face was framed by black hair that fell in low-amplitude waves to his jaw, at which point it’s ends curled up like old parchment”.
( old parchment paper?.... fascinating description in my opinion.....as I’ve never seen a person with those inner thoughts, ‘ever’)...
Ha....now, I might start looking...🤫

There were many things the ‘no-named’ -narrator liked about Billy, right away.....
....mostly he liked that Billy said good things about his writing during class discussions, when other classmates didn’t think much of it.
On the surface, Billy presented himself with more confidence than his new buddy ‘no name’...
But then.....something happens between these guys....
........a disconnect begins....

Teddy Wayne’s strength is his superb characterization....enveloped with impressive vocabulary ..... fantastic mundaneness.....and at times pyrotechnically explosive sentences.
Whether likable or not, the characters fly off the page and into our consciousness.

The writing itself was almost a character...(interesting refreshing prose).
Sample:
“Floater, would be the term of flattery, connoting nimble social skills and a chameleonic ability to blend in, though I wasn’t nearly that smooth. I could generally hold up my end of a conversation, knew how to listen and make jokes, but it was a performance, canny mimicry of how I had seen others interact: you nod agreeably at this moment, you supply your opinion or anecdote or question at this juncture, you make a concerned face ( aw) over this unpleasant revelation. I rarely allowed myself the easy way out through what I thought of as ‘script reading’, consistently reciting the same Breezey phrase for greetings or farewells, or recycling an impression or story verbatim. I wasn’t talk-show-host suave, norb where is the awkward or robotic; the seams were well hidden, and the end result was apparent normalcy. Only I was aware of how much effort went into making it look effortless”.

Things I took from this story....( haha)....
....Be careful who you invite to live with you - for free no less!

Seriously....this could make for a great book club discussion.
Not perfect....but a darn good ‘un-put-down-able’ read.

Many thanks to the trio: Bloomsbury Publishing, Netgalley, and Teddy Wayne

[Julie Ehlers · Rating 5 out of 5]

What . . . ? I mean, how . . . ? Listen, this is a short, quiet story about two twentysomething white men in an MFA program at Columbia, sharing a rent-controlled apartment in 1990s Manhattan. WHAT MAKES IT SO DEVASTATING? I cared so much about the character Billy that I almost couldn't stand it. I simultaneously worried the author was going to do something to make me hate him and wanted the author to do something to make me hate him so I could stop caring so much. But that didn't really happen: Billy and his roommate (the unnamed narrator) are both just regular humans who behave well and then sometimes behave less well, and then the reader wants to close her eyes and stop reading because she can't take it anymore, and then things go quiet again but everyone is changed. It's hard to think about even now that I'm done.

Teddy Wayne's The Love Song of Jonny Valentine is one of my favorite novels, and with Apartment Teddy Wayne has become one of my favorite novelists. I am excited and scared to read his other books.

[luce (cry bebè's back from hiatus) · Rating 4 out of 5]

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“I'd been happy before just to be his classmate, to learn from him osmotically, but now I grew excited at what this might blossom into, the sort of close, symbiotic relationship I'd hoped grad school would offer and the Hemingway-Fitzgerald complementary pairing I'd always thought necessary to one's artistic development.”

Set in New York between 1996 and 1997 Apartment portrays the making and dissolution of a friendship. Our unnamed narrator, who is attending the MFA writing program at Columbia, is a rather introverted young man. His father is paying for his tuition and his other expenses while he is staying in his aunt’s apartment (in what amounts to an illegal sublet).
His loner existence is shaken up when he begins to hang out with Billy, a talented classmate of his. Billy, who hails from the Midwest, has only recently gotten into writing and reading. Unlike our narrator, Billy struggles to make ends meet and works as a bartender. Out of a combination of guilt and genuine admiration for Billy and his writing, our narrator offers him his spare bedroom.

“A first sleepover, whether it was sexual or platonic, had a way of making you both more and less comfortable around the other person; you'd jumped a fence of intimacy, but now you saw each other in the blunt morning light.”

Living in such close quarters however is not easy. The power imbalance between the two of them (which sees the protagonist becoming Billy's benefactor), their opposite financial situations, as well as Billy’s writing capabilities, put a strain on their bond. Soon it becomes apparent that they also have differing interests and political outlooks.
The unspooling of their relationship is uncomfortable to read. As their awkward chats give way to tense silences, we read with a mounting sense of dread.
The narrator’s discomfort becomes our own. Yet, his caginess puts us at arm’s length. Early on he confesses to Billy that his biggest fear is that no one will truly know him. While this hints at a certain level of self-awareness, our protagonist remains unknowable. His writing too, according to his classmates’ feedback, reflects his reticence to let others see him.
His self-imposed isolation gives way to a perpetual cycle of loneliness and alienation. As he realises that his friendship with Billy is irrevocably damaged, the narrator does the unthinkable.
In spite of the narrator's unwillingness to articulate his true feelings, I came to care for him. His observations were rendered in a shrinkingly genuine manner, and even if he does not reveal himself to us, or others, we do become familiar with his solitude and with his feelings of not belonging.

“I would never relate to these people after all, they wouldn't come to know me and no one ever would, and it wasn't because I was a misunderstood rebel or suffered from some diagnosable pathology; I was an oddball—but not even a 'classic' oddball, no, I was an oddball among self-selecting oddballs who had found community with other oddballs, and to be on the outside of mainstream society i one thing, and admirably heroic struggle, but to be on the fringes of an already marginalized subculture is simply lonely.”

With a narrative that is rife with literary allusions and academic terms, Teddy Wayne’s conveys the sheltered yet claustrophobic atmosphere of an MFA program. The narrator and his classmates seem aware that they are active participants in what they define as ‘real life’. Billy’s less than privileged background is what differentiates him from the rest. Yet, the more time he spends at this program, the more self-assured he becomes. There are some great discussions around talent and ambition.
The narrator's internal monologue also provides some moments of humour. For example, in contemplating a romantic relationship with another writer he makes the following observation:

“Writers were either histrionic or reserved or oscillated wildly between the two poles, all we'd have to talk about would be what we'd composed that day or how we were depressed that we hadn't produced anything, the whole thing would be insular and incestuous.”

The novel also delves into themes of masculinity, identity, friendship, creativity, and sexuality. Wayne’s depiction of the mid-90s is simultaneously piercing and nostalgic. New York too is rendered in an evocative way.

Written in a propelling style and possessing all the trappings of a psychological thriller without actually being one, Apartment tells a profoundly poignant tale in which the narrator's namelessness reflects his withdrawn nature.

Read more reviews on my blog / / / View all my reviews on Goodreads

[Theresa · Rating 5 out of 5]

Thank you, Netgalley and Bloomsbury for sending me a digital ARC, in exchange for an honest review.

Wow. "Apartment" by Teddy Wayne made me cry. I wasn't expecting to feel a kaleidoscope of emotions, but that ending was...HEARTBREAKING. Ugh.

The unnamed narrator lives in a rent-stabilized apartment in New York, circa 1996. He has been living in the apartment for 6 years as the story opens. His great-aunt is the owner of the apartment, but she allows him to sublet it (illegally) since she currently resides in New Jersey. The narrator is an aspiring writer/graduate student attending Columbia University. His dad pays his rent and his tuition. Even though he is free of financial burdens, he is not free from soul-crushing loneliness. He thinks of himself as inept and socially awkward. He doesn't have any close friends because he has a difficult time letting people in. He lives a very solitary existence. Everything changes when he meets Billy, a charismatic classmate in his MFA writing workshop course. During a workshop session, Billy is complimentary of the narrator's natural ability as a fiction writer, despite the constructive feedback of his fellow classmates. Thus, begins an interesting but superficial friendship between the two. On a whim, the narrator asks Billy to move into his spare bedroom after he sees Billy's current living conditions (the basement of a bar). The narrator tells him he can live with him, rent-free (even though he's only known him for 2 weeks). Billy's only contributions in lieu of rent is to cook and clean the apartment once a week.

Without going into specifics, their living arrangement/friendship starts out easy-going and genuine. Billy is the first person the narrator feels a camaraderie with. He finally feels connected to another person, even though it's based on money and dependency. It feels like he's trying to buy Billy's friendship. But as they get to know each other, their political, economical, and social class differences cause friction and resentment. Jealously, sexual tension, and mental health are also discussed, but not overtly. The writing is nuanced and beautiful. Teddy Wayne did a fantastic job at fleshing out these two polar opposite characters. You can feel their dynamic start to shift when Billy pulls away from the narrator after an uncomfortable incident. The growing tension is palpable. Something unforgivable also occurs within the last 15% of this book that left me shell-shocked and reeling. I don't think everyone will connect or relate to this quiet, unassuming novel, it's like an exquisite slow-burn. It's also more character-driven, but my goodness, my heart broke for the narrator. All the ways he lies to himself were completely believable. I also enjoyed that he was likeable and unlikeable at the same time. He was so pitiful and yet so completely in need of help and understanding. The ending was more devastating that I thought it would be. I don't think this unexpected gem will leave me anytime soon. This one hit a nerve.

Release date: February 25, 2020

[Kelli · Rating 4 out of 5]

Disclaimer on my current state of mind: I finished this the day that school ended and the state self-isolation began. Needless to say, I've been concerned, distracted, and desperately trying to retain my sanity while homeschooling and dealing with my husband, kids, and dog all day every day.

I loved Loner. I found it fresh and brilliant. Apartment, with its dimensional cover and unnamed narrator, is similarly brilliant, but in a far more understated way. A commentary on too many things to list, the writing is excellent and the character study flawless. I don't think this book will be for everyone but Teddy Wayne delivers here and leaves the reader with a lot to ponder once the story ends. I'm being intentionally vague because I believe this is best approached with no prior knowledge. Dig in! 4 stars

[Tooter · Rating 5 out of 5]

5 Stars. Intense character study that leaves you feeling gutted in the end.

[Charles · Rating 4 out of 5]

Entertaining, nicely paced, competently written, on the light side of things without being dumb. I have no name for the category – contrary to the narrator, I never studied literature or writing – but Apartment goes in the same imaginary pile for me as Less by Andrew Sean Greer and The Imperfectionists by Tom Rachman. It’s not the plot, obviously, but the tone (friendly) and the approach (no fuss, off we go). As it is, in spite of the protagonist's feelings of inadequacy and constant soul-searching, Apartment cast a bit of sunshine in a dreary February.

[Andrew Smith · Rating 4 out of 5]

I’d really enjoyed Wayne’s last book Loner about a bright Harvard student who is hampered by his introvert nature. I found it a thoughtful and thought provoking piece and it stayed with me for a long time. This time the author’s unnamed narrator is a bright and insecure writer who is on a Master of Fine Arts program at an Columbia University. Could this be a replay of his last book? Thankfully the answer is no, but I already feel that this book might haunt me for a while too.

The story focusses on the narrator’s bourgeoning friendship with a fellow student called Billy, this after the latter supplied the only positive feedback on his work during a brutal session during which other fellow students ruthlessly criticised just about everything about it. The pair are soon begin sharing an apartment and their friendship grows and deepens. It develops into a complex relationship and in time this introduces a number of deep themes such as class divide, literary ambition and the fragility of male masculinity. But there’s a decent story here too and when one act threatens to change their relationship the tenor of the whole thing changes. It’s very much a character driven story but the closing section shows that there’s more to it than that.

It’s wordy, but that’s Wayne’s style – he is Harvard man, and he did complete a MFA program. So you expect this to be a book you need to pay attention to and maybe you’ll have to look up a few words along the way too, but that’s ok. I enjoyed it a lot. I’ll be seeking out more of this man’s work, but I need to recover from this one first.

[Jenna · Rating 4 out of 5]

I think Teddy Wayne’s finest sleight of hand as an author is that he does not appear to be employing any sleight of hand. Rather, in this novel as well as in Loner, he so completely animates and inhabits a complex unreliable narrator protagonist whose capricious and volatile journey the reader then unsuspectingly, earnestly, vicariously experiences. The sense of suffocation and isolation that permeates this book would also make it a fitting read for these times. Hope Wayne is busily writing away in quarantine, and can’t wait to see what he does next.

[Ken · Rating 4 out of 5]

Excepting a 4-page post script called “After,” The Apartment is divided into two parts named for the years 1996 and 1997. I’m here to tell you that '97 fares much better than its predecessor, which I had some doubts about.

Before I go there, though, I have to give author Teddy Wayne some credit. He’s taken on a tough subject with this book, namely adult male friendships, which shouldn’t be oxymoronic (unlike adult female friendships, which thrive everywhere in every way), but they are.

Take out the sports-watching (or participating) bonding that men do, and there’s not much left to talk about when it comes to their friendships. As Wayne seems to have figured out, this is probably because men often struggle with the proper boundaries for friendship, especially when confined to two men and not a group cheering on the Boston Red Sox at Cheers or something. Many men seem worried they might say the wrong thing or do the wrong thing. Macho affection, then, usually consists of insults, sarcasm, and booze. And contact is confined to sports-related hugs and butt slaps, where it is accepted.

In this book’s case, we get an echo of that old school reading list stalwart, A Separate Peace. Surely you remember it: the cerebral protagonist, somewhat wimpy but very smart, Gene (probably based on author John Knowles), and the boarding school darling, Finny, who is excellent at all sports, a dead ringer for Adonis, and in the dictionary under “charismatic.”

Shift this dyamic to a Columbia MFA program. Our hero is the nameless but brainy first-person pronoun “I,” a 20-something who is benefiting from his estranged dad’s largesse when it comes to the Ivy League school and his aunt’s available apartment thanks to some love she found in another city. She told him he could stay there if he didn’t take on a roommate (against the association rules) – this despite the fact that the Stuy Town apartment conveniently (for the book) has a second room. No one loves coincidence more than fiction writers, I've decided.

Enter the Finny character: a Midwestern, hardscrabble bartender / writer in the program named Billy Campbell. No surprise, Billy seems to write circles around his more uniformly suburban upscale classmates, even though he can barely get by living in a dingy basement below a NYC downscale bar.

The premise of friendship begins with Billy defending the narrator’s story, which the teacher and students pile on during a workshop discussion. When the class follows up with drinks at a darts bar, Billy and our hero are on the same team. In typical Goofus and Gallant fashion, our hero sucks at darts (and sports discussions, and sports in general) while Billy is an ace and carries the team to victory.

Add in these key elements: Billy is handsome as hell and has a body that serves as flame to girls’ moth-like eyes (OK, and hands, in certain scenes). Entranced by and oh-so-grateful for Billy's looks and talent (you can just hear him thinking, "He's actually my friend!), our hero visits Billy while he works at his bar, goes out to other NYC spots with him, and ultimately does what he said he'd never do – offers the spare room in his apartment.

If you see trouble ahead, you’re onto the book’s plot. The trouble with Part One (“1996”) is how the narrator keeps inviting Billy everywhere and then even to his place (and ultimately to live there for good). Because Billy is strapped for bucks and Narrator has a generous, guilt-plagued dad, the narrator keeps paying for stuff, Billy keeps agreeing -- maybe too eagerly, maybe in a way his financial situation doesn't quite cover the way the author hopes it will. Ultimately, all the back and forth didn't quite ring true between the two, especially given Billy’s tough guy persona.

Throughout this we get a lot of MFA talk about writing, such as not mentioning or making a big deal of things and letting the reader infer stuff. Wayne tries to follow this formula himself with brief mentions of the narrator noticing Billy’s lean back when Billy reaches up for something high on a shelf, Billy’s arm muscles as he works out, even Billy’s butt (you were expecting Budd?) in the shower when the narrator has to step in briefly to get his Dopp kit.

Is something going on here? Not according to the narrator. He’s still thinking (and struggling with, and being scared by) girls, and the two of them go out on double dates more than once, with Billy being the winner (Finny again, my friends) and the narrator… well, better luck next time.

There is a key plot device just before the end of the first section (I cannot mention it here). It creates friction between the two men and suddenly, in “1997,” the book really picks up. What didn’t sound totally convincing in both dialogue and actions during the first half suddenly seems very much to match how two friends in this situation would react in the second. Yes, it's the jerk factor coming into play (something men seem to excel at more than women -- and, if you're on the home team, pleased don't sling and arrow me for saying as much).

So, what’s it all about, Alfie? Dunno, really, but it's certainly an intriguing read and hats off to Teddy Wayne for giving it the Old College as in Try. Our luckless narrator is certainly dealing with an emptiness – but what exactly is this emptiness? And what human emotions are motivating his increasingly desperate behaviors? Loneliness? Desire? Jealousy? They’re all there, and Wayne is smart enough to offer reasons for each and leave it to the reader.

As for my guess, what does it matter? I can’t figure this narrator out. As for Billy Campbell, he’s a little too good to be true, in both physical ways and writing ways. Would a guy like that really behave like this? No and yes both. That’s what the book counts on.

[George Ilsley · Rating 4 out of 5]

Apart/Ment: a state or condition wherein people feel apart

An enigmatic short novel that is capable of multiple approaches or interpretations. Warning: there may be small SPOILERS in this review.

Often in novels about writers (not usually my favourite topic) there is a scene where feedback is supplied, and the reader perks up and says, Hey, that exact feedback applies to this book! When Billy provides feedback to his roommate (p. 140) he says "you're missing something" and "something from you is missing." Yes, something is missing: first of all, a name.

The narrator is missing a name, and definition. He is drawn to Billy, but it's mostly envy, it seems, he's envious of Billy's talents and his pull with women — his definition, in a way. Billy's personality is more defined and more attractive, he even has a name, and his interest in team sports enables easy bonding with other men.

Some readers see gay tendencies in this attraction to Billy, but I didn't go that far (and believe me, I see it everywhere with the slightest excuse!). Straight men are attracted to other men for many reasons. This novel is about longing, bonding, and loneliness: the unnamed narrative confesses that "Billy had activated something inside of me", "something that didn't fit into a neatly defined slot", something he couldn't bring himself to "articulate."

If Men Could Talk . . . is a joke I make, playing with the premise that men (i.e. primarily straight men) are fundamentally inarticulate. Of course that is not true, except to the extent that every stereotype is true. But if men could talk, and talk honestly about loneliness and attractions and nebulous feelings, "Apartment" might well be the result.

All the writing business gossip was entertaining to this reader/writer. However, when the unnamed narrator has his breakdown, when he orchestrates the means of his own self-destruction —I found that scene unbelievable. It was simply too much, and detracted from my investment in the novel and the character. Perhaps it was meant to portray the unexplored depths of the narrator's unacknowledged feelings, but I simply didn't believe it. I mean, we all do crazy things for love, but that was a lot, completely over the top, and it just didn't feel true for that otherwise passive character.

However, simply drifting apart is much less dramatic, I suppose, even if that is the more realistic outcome!

3.5 stars rounded up because writers are ridiculous.

[Bandit · Rating 4 out of 5]

This novel might have been named Loner had Teddy Wayne not used that title for his previous novel. Although the loner here is a person of a very different nature. In fact, as far as comparisons go, this might be a superior novel than its predecessor, but it is considerably less flashy. And the characters are somewhat more mature…or, at the very least, older. I seem to read a Teddy Wayne novel every 3 years and this, my third one by him, each liked well enough to warrant checking out the next one. But his characters always do seem to be on the younger side, the books themselves are much too sophisticated to be labeled YA, it’s more of an adult’s perspective on the vagaries of youth. First there was a book about a Bieberesque pop star, then a novel of a teenage prep school psycho. And now, this, a tale of a friendship between two young men (mid 20s, progress already), both aspiring writers getting their MFAs at Columbia in 1996 New York. The two are radically different in their upbringing, socioeconomic status, political opinions, appearances, confidence levels and talent and subsequently their friendship is widely unbalanced, but there is a symbiotic quality to it, also. Not enough to offset the lack of balance, but for a while, at least. And, as the title might suggest, a lot of it has to do with the apartment that the unnamed narrator possesses (albeit not quite legally) and offers to his new friend to share. The apartment is spacious and rent controlled and offered free for serviced rendered (cleaning and cooking) and thus the imbalance begins. In a way, it’s almost like buying friendship and companionship for a person too socially inept to secure it by any other means. And though initially the newfounded camaraderie seems genuine, soon the fundamental differences between the two start tearing at the fabric of their arrangement. It isn’t as simple as class warfare, differences in personal finances and education, there’s also a profound divide between their perceptions of social roles, masculinity and, of course, writing. A fascinating dynamic to hang a plot upon and Wayne does a good job of playing up the opposites who are stuck together by necessity straight until the inevitable end. It doesn’t really help that the nameless narrator is such a sad sack of a person, financially secure only through his father’s generosity, mediocre in his chosen craft of writing, funny enough at times, but fairly charmless, someone who skims life instead of actively living, an observer, haunting the peripheries. Not the most likeable of protagonists, compelling in his own sad sack way, but in the end almost quietly tragic. This connection he forms with handsome, charismatic, easy going, talented, diligent Billy is, accordingly, quite sad. There’s an undercurrent of homoerotic attraction, but you can never really tell if he wants to be with Billy or just be Billy. The siren song, the irresistible appeal of being someone other, an upgraded version of self, someone who has an easier time of living. There’s a romance element to it too, since all great friendships tend to have one, something about taking the bold risk of opening yourself up to another person. And the narrator here for all his milquetoast qualities does take that leap. So there’s that. And sure, he’d be far more likeable if he didn’t quite so much rely on his money to oil all of life’s mechanisms, but that’s his lesson to learn. In fact, this entire book is about lessons he learns and choices he makes and the way they inform the rest of his life. Friendship with Billy, short lived as it might have been, turns out to be quite pivotal in that way. So it does make for a compelling read. Not to mention dynamic. I really appreciate the sparseness of Wayne’s writing, behold a 208 page novel that doesn’t seem abbreviated in any way. Plus it’ll check all the nostalgia boxes for those missing the 90s. I’m not sure if the timing was especially significant to the plot, but enjoyed it all the same. Enjoyed the entire book, in fact, despite the characters, even. Great cover too. So yeah, good read. Recommended. Thanks Netgalley.

[Carmel Hanes · Rating 4 out of 5]

"How easily he could mock me for my privileges, but I doubted he had ever considered the copious ones he enjoyed, which society didn't catalog as overtly , the love and affection he knew would show up at his doorstep without fail, whereas I was in the starved ranks of those who had to grasp for it when it was within reach for fear of its slipping away. And he was never made to feel guilty for these natural advantages and resources he'd done nothing to earn. The rest of us just revered him for them--I most of all."

"And he would win it. He won at everything: writing, women, friends. He may have come from a disadvantaged background, but everyone he encountered was eager to help him triumph over it, for one reason or another, and though he was ostensibly against government handouts, he had no reservations about benefiting from their largesse--or mine."

Two men, one writing program, two different backgrounds, one shared goal--a chance meeting that bring together two very different people with a common interest. This was a fascinating journey from that initial attraction and befriending to the inevitable discovery of basic differences, to those differences beginning to fray the edges of a mutually beneficial friendship, to choices made creating an unbridgeable chasm.

As the beginning quotes indicate, it raises thought-provoking questions about what "privilege" entails, how our backgrounds can influence our perceptions of it, whether our individual privileges actually help us or hinder our development and path, and how our perception of privilege in others might direct our own behavior and feelings about ourselves or them in the larger world. I was also fascinated by the possibility that those being "helped" by someone else's privilege might resent the heck out of that help even as they feel forced to be grateful for it. This story presented an interesting teeter-totter of that picture.

Additionally, there was a quiet undercurrent regarding what we hide from others, and our selves.

Loneliness and jealousy come in many forms, and leave a variety of muddy tributaries formed in its wake.

[Skyler Autumn · Rating 3 out of 5]

3.5 Stars

Books about narcissistic writers are my kryptonite.

Apartment by Teddy Wayne follows two MFA students from different economic and political backgrounds that decide on a bit of a whim to share an illegal sublet in New York. The two seemingly different boys become fast friends, that is until an awkward moment leads to a riff that escalates to an ending so cringe-worthy I felt like adverting my eyes from secondhand embarrassment.

Although not the most original or groundbreaking novel I did find that Teddy Wayne did an amazing job at capturing the insecurities and awkwardness of young friendships, specifically their volatility. I think the character development was really well done but the overall contrasting of the two characters could have used a bit more of a punch up. Although socio-economical and political difference are interesting, I think adding a racial/cultural difference would have made this book even better instead of just showing us the comparison between poor white boy and rich white boy.

[Jessica Woodbury · Rating 3 out of 5]

3.5 stars.
This book is a throwback, but one with a distinctly modern feel. It's an interesting mashup of 90's culture with 10's awareness.

The throwback is not just the setting (1996-1997, complete with the presidential election, the Packers/Patriots Super Bowl, and inescapable Friends references) and the subject (the privileged-white-guy-in-an-MFA program subject matter isn't exactly the height of fashion at the moment) but some good old-fashioned homoeroticism. That's the one part of the narration that definitely doesn't feel modern, it's an interesting choice. Our unnamed narrator is your average basic MFA guy, but the object of his fascination is Billy Campbell, a very not-average MFA guy. Billy is from a blue-collar world in the midwest, he is uncomfortable and intimidated by New York, and he sleeps in the back room of the bar where he works. He is also, immediately and obviously, the best writer in the program.

The narrator is in Billy's thrall from day 1 and invites him to move into Billy's illegally-sublet rent-controlled apartment where he has an extra bedroom and plenty of space. They start out as good friends, practically attached at the hip. But gradually the differences in class and talent start chipping away at their relationship. The narrator has one kind of privilege, Billy has another, and neither of them is fully comfortable with this. But, it becomes quite clear, there's also something else in the narrator's interest in Billy. Billy is openly homophobic in the way most men of the 20th century were, no-homo'ing their way through their mostly-male circles. And while the narrator never openly admits to being queer or being physically interested in Billy (there is some protesting but there are also scenes where he pays particular attention to Billy's body), which doesn't quite ring true with the rest of the book, narrated from the present, where surely our narrator has made a teensy bit of progress with twenty years to think it over? Especially with how clearly the book examines privilege that no 90's MFA bro would ever be able to admit or acknowledge.

Well paced, with plenty of amusing moments for people in the literary scene, it's a nice break from what this book would have been 10 or 20 years ago.

[Jemppu · Rating 4 out of 5]

What started as an easy-going enough account on student life, turned to a captivatingly fast-paced bit of plotting and an ever sharper character study towards the later half.

The scene to scene progression and the character interactions felt smooth regardless changes in pacing, but there was certain notable forcedness in the fashion with which the prose kept dropping in separate popular contemporary references one by one; their popularized or future relative specificity standing out quite inorganic in their present moment narrative; often appearing like coordinated search optimized keywords for establishing the era, rather than necessarily descriptive of / relevant to the individual experience being depicted. Perhaps a stylistics choice - and certainly some easy 'nostalgia pastiche' -, but felt quite detached from the flow of the more personal story unfolding.

That small distraction aside, a wonderfully compelling story. Amiably true-to-life general tone of which was pleasant to follow, and whose gut wrenchingly astute aspects have certainly left me interested to get acquainted with more of Wayne's work.

[Ann · Rating 4 out of 5]

This is a quiet book that grew on me as it went along. In the end I thought it was extremely poignant. By the way the narrator seems to have a huge secret but the secret is only hinted at a few times and is never spelled out. It's something interesting to ponder - what is the narrator's situation exactly, and if he ever did tell anyone, would it really have changed the trajectory of things? Probably just sped them up, not exactly changed them. How secretive and alone the narrator is, to not even tell us, the reader!

[jay · Rating 2 out of 5]

well that was a pointless exercise, i feel like i spent three hours on a task with nothing to show for it.


read as part of 202-Queer 🌈✨
(though let's be real, BARELY so)

[Alison Hardtmann · Rating 5 out of 5]

"There is no good reason, at this stage of your life, to play it safe and hold back," she'd said. "This is the time to experiment and make mistakes and open yourself up to brutally honest feedback. That's the only way to grow as an artist. Fail again, fail better."

The narrator of this novel is lucky enough to not only have a father paying his tuition and living costs, while he's attending the Colombia MFA program, but he's living in his great-aunt's apartment, a rent-controlled two bedroom, a much nicer living situation than that of most of the other graduate students. He's always been a little awkward around other people, slow to get to know people, resigned to having a few acquaintances as his only connections.

He's been working on a novel, but isn't prepared for the harsh reaction he receives from his peers. Only Billy, a Midwestern transplant a little overwhelmed by the city, has anything positive to say. Soon after meeting him, and on a whim, the narrator offers the empty second bedroom in his apartment to Billy.

This is a novel about the difficulty of making a connection, about how difficult male friendship can be and, especially, a novel about how one man can't manage to get past his own self-consciousness, despite his best efforts. It turns out that I like novels about people messing up their own lives, even when the protagonist is a white guy. While this does veer towards WMFuN* territory, it never quite manages to become one, despite the narrator's best efforts. There's a melancholy air to this story that I found utterly attractive. And when things careen past the merely uncomfortable, Wayne made the various things happening make sense and inevitable, given what had happened before. This is a really well done and beautifully written novel and I'm so glad to have found it.

* White Male Fuck-up Novel, truly a well established genre.

[Jill · Rating 4 out of 5]

We all know someone like the unnamed first-person narrator of Apartment—lurking around the periphery of a social circle, uncomfortable in his own space, trying hard to fit “airbrushing…unpalatable blemishes here and there.”

This unnamed first-year MFA student lives in his own space—literally and figuratively. He sublets his great-aunt’s rent-controlled Stuy Town apartment. In class one day, while his workshopped story is taking a skewering, another student defends him: Billy, a product of rural Illinois. Billy is everything he’s not: a small-town boy without his own financial advantages, amazingly gifted as a writer, charismatic and comfortable in who he is. One thing leads to another and Billy ends up moving into the apartment as a roommate. And that’s where the dynamics get interesting.

The narrator and Billy inhabit two different visions of America—one with a clear path because of family income and the other striving to gain a foothold. The narrator—and certainly the reader—know that he has an attraction towards Billy that continues to grow. The attraction goes beyond the physical; the narrator wants to possess him or be him.

So we watch what promises to be a train wreck as their differing words collide, as intimacy issues are skirted and dropped and avoided, as resentments and tensions rise. As Billy works to make a name for himself, our nameless narrator becomes more threatened and lost. This is a masterful character study that focuses on disconnection and cultural division in the mid-1990s. 4.5 stars.

[Doug · Rating 3 out of 5]

3.5, rounded down.

My sincere thank to Netgalley and Bloomsbury Publishing for providing me a pre-publication ARC in exchange for this honest review.

This proved to be a very quick read for me, and there was much to admire in it, although it also proved a mite unsatisfying in some respects. Mainly it's a young man's story, and since it has been quite some time since I qualified as part of such a generation, I found it hard to relate to a lot of the concerns; in other words, a case of 'it's not you, it's me'.

The MFA writing program background is well elucidated, but I felt like I'd been there before (cf. Bunny). And perhaps because of that milieu, and the fact that all the characters are trying to outdo each other in their lofty written pronouncements, the prose often seemed overly worked, labored and 'flowery', to its detriment. There is also a weird undercurrent of homo-eroticism that never quite comes to fruition, so just left a faint whiff of something unrealized. Since I whizzed through it in less than a day, though, it held my attention, and for the most part I enjoyed the ride.

[OutlawPoet · Rating 3 out of 5]

It seems weird to give up on such a slim book. Surely one can make it through just over 200 pages?

But, nope. I fall on my sword. I give up.

I still give this three stars because I think it's likely a perfect book...for someone else. There's nothing wrong with the way it's written. The characters, though I disliked them, were well-drawn. But nothing happened and nothing kept happening.

I will admit that this is personal preference. I don't like books that meander and seem to exist only to make statements. I want an actual story - a plot where something happens to people, not one where people simply seem to exist with their various problems and philosophical thoughts.

So...not for me. Maybe for you?

[Taylor · Rating 5 out of 5]

the *clenches fist* masculinity

[Greg Zimmerman · Rating 4 out of 5]

First appeared at https://www.thenewdorkreviewofbooks.c...

File this one under "wheelhouse novel" for me. Teddy Wayne's new novel, Apartment, is about two dudes who share an...wait for it... apartment in mid-1990s NYC. These two guys, who meet in their MFA program at Columbia, spend their time boozing, reading, and working on their novels. Fair warning: This is the white dudiest of white dude novels. So of course I loved it. But this is no dumbass Tucker Max book. It's a thoughtful examination of privilege, loneliness, and what it takes to be a good fiction writer.
The unnamed narrator is the guy who "owns" the prime Manhattan apartment — his great aunt's name is on the lease but she lives in Jersey, so let's him live there, not exactly on the up-and-up. Also, the narrator's father pays the rent and for his schooling, so he doesn't really have much to worry about.

Billy arrives on the scene from the hinterlands...er, Illinois, but the Midwest might as well be Mars to these uppity NYC kids. Even so, he's immediately magnetic to all in his class, because of his good looks, his talent as a writer, and also as an "exotic" — a salt-of-the-earth midwestern bartender. Billy is the only in class to defend the narrator's mediocre story, so the narrator is drawn to him, makes friends with him, and seeing as how he's struggling to make it in NYC, invites him to move into the guest room in his free apartment.

This has disaster written all over it. But it works for a while, and the good times roll. They drink. They find ladies. They drink more. They work on their stories. They send their stories to magazines. They watch Friends and Seinfeld. They do some drugs. And then...it all falls apart. And the narrator soon finds that his privilege is an illusion.

So there's two kinds of privilege here. There's the narrator's privilege of wealth, that as Rob Lowe's character says in Wayne's World, can get you far in America, almost to the top, but it can't get you everything. Indeed, it can't get you the privilege of talent. And that's what Billy has and the narrator doesn't, and no amount of wealth will get him that.

This is a short book, but one I enjoyed immensely in the two sittings it took to read. It's rich in 90s pop culture references — sports, music, TV, etc. And it's just...cool...for lack of a better word. If you need a good few-hours distraction from the current state of things, this is it.

[Nadine in California · Rating 4 out of 5]

I love Teddy Wayne's way with words. Here's the unnamed narrator describing drinking cheap whiskey at a dive bar:

"This was not the kind of establishment that manufactured complicated cocktails, and the taste was growing on me, the pleasure of the esophageal burn that tindered a small hearth in the gut, its warmth blooming outward like a slow-moving stain on a tablecloth."

The narrator tosses off wonderful metaphors and similes all the time, and they always landed so perfectly on my ear that I'd never complain that there were a few too many. (Maybe somebody else might.) I also marveled that it didn't bother me at all that this wonderful writing came from the mind of a mediocre MFA student whose work was regularly savaged by the students and teachers - as he himself hilariously recounts. In fact, he even explained why in a conversation with a fellow student:

"...[imitative fallacy] .... is the idea that you don't need to make the story or voice exactly like the protagonist...So it's okay if the average mechanic wouldn't describe the sky with the word 'cerulean' for instance."

Thanks, unnamed narrator!

Aside from the pleasures of the language, this book was a fascinating window into a brief but complicated male friendship. Feelings aren't plumbed, a lot isn't said, some behaviors are mysterious, and yet it seems like exactly the kind of intimacy that would exist between these two characters. I'd have liked to know Billy in a little more depth and especially why he suddenly turned on the narrator in the motel room, but given that we only see him through the narrator's eyes, maybe he has to remain a bit unknowable. And it's very possible there isn't much more to know, and the narrator is idealizing him into something more than he is.

Although there's a melancholy tone throughout the book, it acts as a foil to its comedic skewering of MFA writing workshops, as seen through the jaundiced eyes of this quietly self-loathing narrator.

[Paul · Rating 3 out of 5]

As beautifully as it's written, and as believable as its portrait of the insularity and self-importance of a creative milieu might be, there's something kind of nasty about "Apartment" which keeps me from loving it. The narrator is a cosseted, emotionally stunted, and in all probability intensely closeted aspiring writer with little talent and no redeeming qualities whatsoever. On a whim he invites Billy, a classmate in his Columbia MFA program, to stay in his rent-subsidized Manhattan apartment and spends a year reinforcing his own extremely justifiable inferiority complex. The relationship is plausible, the set pieces are painfully familiar to anyone who has survived a sycophantic art scene, the poetry reading is hysterical . . . but these are exquisite window dressings to mask a dark, empty interior. Either Teddy Wayne has written a bildungsroman about being a petty, vindictive jerk or he's seeking vengeance on an old friend whom he felt betrayed him. Either way, "Apartment" is an amuse bouche - distinctive bitter notes, but they linger too long, and you aren't satisfied.

[Jacqueline · Rating 4 out of 5]

I was oddly drawn to this book & couldn't put it down. I felt sort of guilty for liking it, because on the outside it's just yet another novel about alienation from the perspective of a privileged white guy, who's in an MFA program, no less. And yet, why did I relate to him so much? His excessive sweating in nervous situations, his loneliness & struggles to bond with people, his performative way of interacting with others... it reminds me of why I love reading fiction, because, to paraphrase DFW (very timely since he's name-dropped in this book as well), it reminds me of what it's like to be human. Plus, you can't beat the setting of the 90s. Always makes me feel nostalgic for a time I didn't fully live in (I was too young to know about flannel & grunge back then). The ending did feel rather harsh, abrupt.. overall a really fascinating examination of masculinity, though some of the allusions/symbolisms were a bit on the nose.