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Lot Six
In a world where everyone is inventing a self, curating a feed and performing a fantasy of life, what does it mean to be a person? In his grandly entertaining debut memoir, playwright David Adjmi explores how human beings create themselves, and how artists make their lives into art.
Brooklyn, 1970s. Born into the ruins of a Syrian Jewish family that once had it all, David is painfully displaced. Trapped in an insular religious community that excludes him and a family coming apart at the seams, he is plunged into suicidal depression. Through adolescence, David tries to suppress his homosexual feelings and fit in, but when pushed to the breaking point, he makes the bold decision to cut off his family, erase his past, and leave everything he knows behind. There's only one problem: who should he be? Bouncing between identities he steals from the pages of fashion magazines, tomes of philosophy, sitcoms and foreign films, and practically everyone he meets—from Rastafarians to French preppies—David begins to piece together an entirely new adult self. But is this the foundation for a life, or just a kind of quicksand?
Moving from the glamour and dysfunction of 1970s Brooklyn, to the sybaritic materialism of Reagan’s 1980s to post-9/11 New York, Lot Six offers a quintessentially American tale of an outsider striving to reshape himself in the funhouse mirror of American culture. Adjmi’s memoir is a genre bending Künstlerroman in the spirit of Charles Dickens and Alison Bechdel, a portrait of the artist in the throes of a life and death crisis of identity. Raw and lyrical, and written in gleaming prose that veers effortlessly between hilarity and heartbreak, Lot Six charts Adjmi’s search for belonging, identity, and what it takes to be an artist in America.
Brooklyn, 1970s. Born into the ruins of a Syrian Jewish family that once had it all, David is painfully displaced. Trapped in an insular religious community that excludes him and a family coming apart at the seams, he is plunged into suicidal depression. Through adolescence, David tries to suppress his homosexual feelings and fit in, but when pushed to the breaking point, he makes the bold decision to cut off his family, erase his past, and leave everything he knows behind. There's only one problem: who should he be? Bouncing between identities he steals from the pages of fashion magazines, tomes of philosophy, sitcoms and foreign films, and practically everyone he meets—from Rastafarians to French preppies—David begins to piece together an entirely new adult self. But is this the foundation for a life, or just a kind of quicksand?
Moving from the glamour and dysfunction of 1970s Brooklyn, to the sybaritic materialism of Reagan’s 1980s to post-9/11 New York, Lot Six offers a quintessentially American tale of an outsider striving to reshape himself in the funhouse mirror of American culture. Adjmi’s memoir is a genre bending Künstlerroman in the spirit of Charles Dickens and Alison Bechdel, a portrait of the artist in the throes of a life and death crisis of identity. Raw and lyrical, and written in gleaming prose that veers effortlessly between hilarity and heartbreak, Lot Six charts Adjmi’s search for belonging, identity, and what it takes to be an artist in America.
400 pages, Hardcover
First published June 23, 2020
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Displaying 1 - 30 of 99 reviews
February 25, 2021
Wherein I attempt to be fair to both myself, and the author...
Although his story and mine were different, I want to commend Adjmi for getting across the emotions of feeling "different" without being aware of exactly how this will play out long-term. He sets scenes well (almost too much so), so that we are there with him. At first, I felt he was exaggerating his parents' personalities, though it became clear later that things were, indeed, so dysfunctional. Also worth noting are his depictions of the small, insular Syrian Jewish community.
On the other hand, this book triggered me (normally I'm leery of that expression, but it fits here). Years ago, I suffered from serious self-esteem issues, which I've made progress in tackling. Well, along comes a scene where he and a fellow university student have an after-class spirited philosophical discussion that I couldn't even begin to follow. So, very briefly, I regressed to the idea "Of course not as you're too dim to do so!" And then, I grasped that I don't have any interest in that stuff, so why would I care in the first place? The point here being that he seems to take for granted his readers will "get" highbrow stuff (to use lowbrow language)... or that they'll be impressed?
However, later in the book I started running across words that not only had I never encountered before, but in some cases had to look up since I couldn't be certain through guesswork; this rarely happens in any book, so I briefly wondered if this was another clue I'm not all that smart? After finishing the book, I'm not sure whether the use of "big words" was to impress people, or that he commonly throws around terms that are very rarely encountered beyond SAT-type vocabulary lists as a matter of course?
Anyway... I'm giving this one three stars for its unique underlying story, a worthwhile read overall. I'm just not sure I liked Adjmi all that much. For one thing, I encountered a fair amount of self-pity, leading me to question his reliability as a narrator.
Although his story and mine were different, I want to commend Adjmi for getting across the emotions of feeling "different" without being aware of exactly how this will play out long-term. He sets scenes well (almost too much so), so that we are there with him. At first, I felt he was exaggerating his parents' personalities, though it became clear later that things were, indeed, so dysfunctional. Also worth noting are his depictions of the small, insular Syrian Jewish community.
On the other hand, this book triggered me (normally I'm leery of that expression, but it fits here). Years ago, I suffered from serious self-esteem issues, which I've made progress in tackling. Well, along comes a scene where he and a fellow university student have an after-class spirited philosophical discussion that I couldn't even begin to follow. So, very briefly, I regressed to the idea "Of course not as you're too dim to do so!" And then, I grasped that I don't have any interest in that stuff, so why would I care in the first place? The point here being that he seems to take for granted his readers will "get" highbrow stuff (to use lowbrow language)... or that they'll be impressed?
However, later in the book I started running across words that not only had I never encountered before, but in some cases had to look up since I couldn't be certain through guesswork; this rarely happens in any book, so I briefly wondered if this was another clue I'm not all that smart? After finishing the book, I'm not sure whether the use of "big words" was to impress people, or that he commonly throws around terms that are very rarely encountered beyond SAT-type vocabulary lists as a matter of course?
Anyway... I'm giving this one three stars for its unique underlying story, a worthwhile read overall. I'm just not sure I liked Adjmi all that much. For one thing, I encountered a fair amount of self-pity, leading me to question his reliability as a narrator.
March 3, 2020
I gulped this entire thing down in two sittings. In retrospect, I probably read the second half of the book too quickly – I loved it so much, and wish I'd taken more time to read it more carefully, but once I'd started, I just couldn't stop.
Adjmi himself is the eponymous Lot Six — which is Syrian Jewish slang for queer, but the author really teases out the meaning of queerness here. It’s not just his sexual orientation that’s different, it’s his orientation to the world around him. He’s an exile from the beginning. An exile in his family, and his community and religion. This is so much a book about artists as perennial outsiders, but the author takes a real microscope to that fragile period before the artist knows who or what he is—before he’s really formed. Adjmi is so out of place, so awkward and terrified and stunted for so much of the book that it hurt my heart to read. The book is his attempt to prop up a fake self and make it real, which he can’t fully do—but in some sense he can, and does, both in his art and in his life. Part of the joy of this book is in its ambiguity. Adjmi is looking at the relation between artifice and reality, and it’s a blurrier line than one might think.
References to Hitchcock and Nietzsche and Jean Paul Gaultier pop up all over, but not a pretentious way—this is about a kid trying to understand the world as an interface that will help him to unlock himself. Art and pop culture (the Ricky Schroeder references reallllllly took me back) become tools for gauging reality and possibility. I loved reading this book and I loved swimming in the mind of the author. There’s a lot I’d love to quote, but I can’t, because it’s an advance copy and that would get me in trouble. But the writing here is really powerful, really strong and bracingly honest. Also, I should say I also found it hilarious. I honestly laughed so hard and so loudly at certain sections my partner asked me to please leave the apartment until i was finished reading. There are countless brilliant lines and descriptions. I sort of want to sit down and read it again because I feel there was so much I missed the first time. I’m really glad I ended up reading this.
I received an advance review copy of Lot Six from the publisher, HarperCollins.
Adjmi himself is the eponymous Lot Six — which is Syrian Jewish slang for queer, but the author really teases out the meaning of queerness here. It’s not just his sexual orientation that’s different, it’s his orientation to the world around him. He’s an exile from the beginning. An exile in his family, and his community and religion. This is so much a book about artists as perennial outsiders, but the author takes a real microscope to that fragile period before the artist knows who or what he is—before he’s really formed. Adjmi is so out of place, so awkward and terrified and stunted for so much of the book that it hurt my heart to read. The book is his attempt to prop up a fake self and make it real, which he can’t fully do—but in some sense he can, and does, both in his art and in his life. Part of the joy of this book is in its ambiguity. Adjmi is looking at the relation between artifice and reality, and it’s a blurrier line than one might think.
References to Hitchcock and Nietzsche and Jean Paul Gaultier pop up all over, but not a pretentious way—this is about a kid trying to understand the world as an interface that will help him to unlock himself. Art and pop culture (the Ricky Schroeder references reallllllly took me back) become tools for gauging reality and possibility. I loved reading this book and I loved swimming in the mind of the author. There’s a lot I’d love to quote, but I can’t, because it’s an advance copy and that would get me in trouble. But the writing here is really powerful, really strong and bracingly honest. Also, I should say I also found it hilarious. I honestly laughed so hard and so loudly at certain sections my partner asked me to please leave the apartment until i was finished reading. There are countless brilliant lines and descriptions. I sort of want to sit down and read it again because I feel there was so much I missed the first time. I’m really glad I ended up reading this.
I received an advance review copy of Lot Six from the publisher, HarperCollins.
March 1, 2020
always visceral, often thrilling - sometimes deeply uncomfortable, yet i wanted to steep in this world adjmi so precisely communicates. the book pulled me, tumbling, through an emotionally driven outline of one individual's growth patterns - at once i felt both voyeuristic and uniquely interwoven into his life. i take his voice with me now, forever.
October 10, 2021
A near masterpiece of what its like growing up gay and eccentric in a secular Syrian-Jewish community in Sheepshead Bay, Brooklyn.
Mr. Adjmi would later become one of current theater's forceful voices that polarize audiences because of his frank depiction of religion and sexuality that is found through his community's hypocrisies.
However, his hilarious account of growing up loving musicals, growing up with a father that is often absent yet pretends to be there for him; a mother who swings from affection and support to outright cold hardness, and a brother who wishes he could be more like him- all stem from a place of misguided love that come from cultural roots that often are strict and rigid, yet people don't know how to process their feelings.
I loved how Mr. Adjmi would later describe the difficulties of living in California, going to Julliard where he goes toe to toe with an overly critical playwright who seems to be sabotaging his voice- all things that great artists experience because of their otherness.
I felt a connection with Mr. Adjmi when he writes about his obsession with Sondheim's Sweeney Todd's macabre plot, and it seems to have been the musical that judged all musicals in his eyes by way of storytelling, structure, and let's face it- Sweeney and Mrs. Lovett are terrifying but campy. Around his age, I saw Sondheim's Passion, my first Broadway musical, starring the immortal Donna Murphy and the late great Marin Mazzie; and a few years later, Cabaret with also, the late great Natasha Richardson, I can relate to how musicals written starring strong, magnetic women and musicals that tell stories of how otherness can be inspirational and maddening, is what I liked most about reading this memoir. I would like to read his plays to do a cross comparison in parallel with his life.
Mr. Adjmi would later become one of current theater's forceful voices that polarize audiences because of his frank depiction of religion and sexuality that is found through his community's hypocrisies.
However, his hilarious account of growing up loving musicals, growing up with a father that is often absent yet pretends to be there for him; a mother who swings from affection and support to outright cold hardness, and a brother who wishes he could be more like him- all stem from a place of misguided love that come from cultural roots that often are strict and rigid, yet people don't know how to process their feelings.
I loved how Mr. Adjmi would later describe the difficulties of living in California, going to Julliard where he goes toe to toe with an overly critical playwright who seems to be sabotaging his voice- all things that great artists experience because of their otherness.
I felt a connection with Mr. Adjmi when he writes about his obsession with Sondheim's Sweeney Todd's macabre plot, and it seems to have been the musical that judged all musicals in his eyes by way of storytelling, structure, and let's face it- Sweeney and Mrs. Lovett are terrifying but campy. Around his age, I saw Sondheim's Passion, my first Broadway musical, starring the immortal Donna Murphy and the late great Marin Mazzie; and a few years later, Cabaret with also, the late great Natasha Richardson, I can relate to how musicals written starring strong, magnetic women and musicals that tell stories of how otherness can be inspirational and maddening, is what I liked most about reading this memoir. I would like to read his plays to do a cross comparison in parallel with his life.
November 2, 2020
The Moby Dick of playwright memoirs!
March 16, 2020
Reading Lot Six, I was almost convinced that I was the narrator, that I lived this life, so different from my own. Each sentence is so vibrant and full of feeling, so lived in, that those feelings became mine. It is both one of those books that I couldn't put down, and that I had to put down every few moments to write myself (with a bit of angst that I'll never write quite like this). It is a harrowing and loving tale of growing up, and becoming, without the sign posts most of us have. I can't recommend David Adjmi's memoir enough.
April 16, 2020
I can't remember reading an autobiography were the main character has so few redeeming characteristics. Adjmi is brutally honest in his portrayal of his life. As a Syrian Ashkenazi Jew growing up in New York, he documents his relationships with his family, friends, his studies, and his therapy in his attempt at understanding his life. All of which prove to be going down a "bunch of blind alleys" in this pursuit. I kept wanting to be sympathetic to him, but found his portrayal off putting. I know I could be looking at this as sarcastic and funny. And it is that. But, can he be that pompous, that naive Gen X man who is given so much, yet can't recognize what has been given him? The narrative gets stale after he relates items that affected his life and then gives an in-depth explanation of the item. Be prepared to use your google dictionary (he refers to using the Barron Vocabulary Builder not in a good way) and throws in obtuse words which stop one in one's tracks. Can I say ostentatious, supercilious, vainglorious?
Thats to Edelweiss and the publisher for providing me this electronic copy.
Thats to Edelweiss and the publisher for providing me this electronic copy.
July 22, 2020
Identity, creativity, sexuality, and repeat!
“I swore to never become a Lot Six. I had learned the origin for that term from my brothers. It came from SY (Syrian) businesses. Lot numbers were the numbers affixed with little stickers to the backs of cameras and Walkmans-they gave a salesmen a coded system, a quick way to negotiate prices with the customers. Lot numbers were double the wholesale price, so Lot Six was code for three, an odd number-odd, as in queer. It wasn’t just an epithet for a gay person-it was a price tag, a declaration of value. And a Lot Six had no value.
The identity, if I ever claimed it, would render me worthless.”
Wow did I love this book.
Of course not every book can hit you on such a multitude of levels in terms of identifying, but man this sure did for me. David Adjmi was named one of the top ten in Culture by The New Yorker in 2011. A celebrated playwright David’s had his work produced at Lincoln Center, the Royal Shakespeare Company, Soho Rep, and Steppenwolf to name a few. But how does one get from here to there? How does a Brooklyn born Syrian Jew with a domineering Mother and vacant Father break the limiting carapace around him to eventually find his voice, his vocation, and his place in this world?
This is is his story.
So much of his early childhood I found myself laughing out loud, from his early cultural excursions with his mother to Manhattan for theatre ( His simultaneous terror and fascination with ‘Sweeney Todd’ is priceless), to his aversion to the glut of horror films released in the seventies.- Which in some way more than likely contributed to his certainty of being murdered some night in his home when his mother went out!
His foray into puberty made me choke with recognition, one specific instance finally pinpointing a physical change I never knew until now was because of that.
Moving on.
As young David matures into a man, so does his story mature as well as he begins to try on a wardrobe of identities looking for the one that fits the best both through high school and then college.
At the same time his creative spirit was burgeoning, and it’s that section that frames the final moving third of the book.
I’m so happy to have read this, it surely is one of the best of the year for me, and hoping beyond hope Broadway reopens this winter so his new play which is Broadway bound can further solidify his boundless talent.
“I swore to never become a Lot Six. I had learned the origin for that term from my brothers. It came from SY (Syrian) businesses. Lot numbers were the numbers affixed with little stickers to the backs of cameras and Walkmans-they gave a salesmen a coded system, a quick way to negotiate prices with the customers. Lot numbers were double the wholesale price, so Lot Six was code for three, an odd number-odd, as in queer. It wasn’t just an epithet for a gay person-it was a price tag, a declaration of value. And a Lot Six had no value.
The identity, if I ever claimed it, would render me worthless.”
Wow did I love this book.
Of course not every book can hit you on such a multitude of levels in terms of identifying, but man this sure did for me. David Adjmi was named one of the top ten in Culture by The New Yorker in 2011. A celebrated playwright David’s had his work produced at Lincoln Center, the Royal Shakespeare Company, Soho Rep, and Steppenwolf to name a few. But how does one get from here to there? How does a Brooklyn born Syrian Jew with a domineering Mother and vacant Father break the limiting carapace around him to eventually find his voice, his vocation, and his place in this world?
This is is his story.
So much of his early childhood I found myself laughing out loud, from his early cultural excursions with his mother to Manhattan for theatre ( His simultaneous terror and fascination with ‘Sweeney Todd’ is priceless), to his aversion to the glut of horror films released in the seventies.- Which in some way more than likely contributed to his certainty of being murdered some night in his home when his mother went out!
His foray into puberty made me choke with recognition, one specific instance finally pinpointing a physical change I never knew until now was because of that.
Moving on.
As young David matures into a man, so does his story mature as well as he begins to try on a wardrobe of identities looking for the one that fits the best both through high school and then college.
At the same time his creative spirit was burgeoning, and it’s that section that frames the final moving third of the book.
I’m so happy to have read this, it surely is one of the best of the year for me, and hoping beyond hope Broadway reopens this winter so his new play which is Broadway bound can further solidify his boundless talent.
March 30, 2020
David Admji is already known for the flawed, complex, extreme characters he brings to life on the stage, and now he's applied the same lens to his experience of growing up a Syrian Jew in Brooklyn, across the country to a briefly dreadlocked period in L.A. then to Iowa for porn and pancakes and back again for a disorienting stint at Juilliard.
Deftly woven, this story is so hilarious and poignant, rife with depictions of his hopelessly lovable family and friends, you could almost find yourself seduced away from the deeper underlying complexities at hand. Adjmi is as merciless on himself as he is on others, taking a diamond-hard approach to scrutinizing his own alienation, search for identity, sexuality, and the ways in which he chameleoned his way through life until he landed in some version of honest acceptance and personal wisdom.
Harder-hitting than David Sedaris but equally funny and anecdotally rich, less poetic than Ocean Vuong but just as artistically imagined, Lot Six is part memoir, part inspiration for any serious artist or anyone with a desire to deconstruct the past. With plenty of teeth, this story is ultimately relentless in its pursuit of the ugly (yet somehow deeply charming?) truth. Perhaps the greatest gift Adjmi leaves his reader with, aside from a maniacal desire to turn the page, is a new level of the knowledge that in spite of what is distasteful about the human condition, there is beauty to be found everywhere, no matter how absurd the person or situation, but most especially within the nooks and crannies of the artist's own alienated and lonely heart.
Deftly woven, this story is so hilarious and poignant, rife with depictions of his hopelessly lovable family and friends, you could almost find yourself seduced away from the deeper underlying complexities at hand. Adjmi is as merciless on himself as he is on others, taking a diamond-hard approach to scrutinizing his own alienation, search for identity, sexuality, and the ways in which he chameleoned his way through life until he landed in some version of honest acceptance and personal wisdom.
Harder-hitting than David Sedaris but equally funny and anecdotally rich, less poetic than Ocean Vuong but just as artistically imagined, Lot Six is part memoir, part inspiration for any serious artist or anyone with a desire to deconstruct the past. With plenty of teeth, this story is ultimately relentless in its pursuit of the ugly (yet somehow deeply charming?) truth. Perhaps the greatest gift Adjmi leaves his reader with, aside from a maniacal desire to turn the page, is a new level of the knowledge that in spite of what is distasteful about the human condition, there is beauty to be found everywhere, no matter how absurd the person or situation, but most especially within the nooks and crannies of the artist's own alienated and lonely heart.
October 29, 2020
I can't get over what a bust this book was. Not sure how either the author or the editors didn't tighten the focus and length of this thing. Pages after pages of details on unrelated, uninteresting topics and then the meat of the story are thrown away in passing, hidden away in footnotes or parenthetical. Like let's take the title of the book: "Lot Six". It's a derogatory for homosexual or queer. One would think that when your memoir is called something along the lines of "Faggot", then the memoir would be about one's sexuality. And yet, the first half of the book is 40 pages of extremely detailed but banal stories followed by "and that made me worry I would be Lot Six!" followed by 40 pages of extremely detailed but banal stories followed by "and that made me worry I would be Lot Six!" followed by 40 pages of extremely detailed but banal stories followed by "and that made me worried I would be Lot Six!" This switches in the second half of the book to throwing away important events. We learn he came out to his father five times, not through extremely detailed stories but in a footnote! We learn he got a boyfriend and broke up with him not through extremely detailed stories but in a parenthetical! Over and over again, reams of pages are given away to fluff while important life changing events related to homosexuality are hidden, sped past, or thrown away. Perhaps this book was meant to be therapeutic and cleansing for the author but it's misleading marketing and a big let down for the reader.
August 6, 2020
I have finished this book, and have read all the online reviews, and must admit that I am a bit mystified by the overwhelming critical acclaim. Mr. Adjmi is undoubtedly talented (I have not seen any of his plays) as a writer, but his constant whining really got the better of me. And his "transliteration" of the way the Syrian Jews in Brooklyn actually spoke, rather than simply explaining it once or twice, became really tiresome, right up to the end of the book.
A "lot six" is the Syrian slang for a homosexual, but I confess there is very little of Adjmi's sexuality in this book, neither pro nor con. As he went through his teens, twenties and thirties, I expected there to be some trace of sexuality in this "tell-all" memoir, but it seems to be so totally buried, that he omits this clearly troubling aspect of his life almost totally. He also moves through his "obsessions" rather quickly, with no real insight into what's really going on inside him. He hates his parents, then he doesn't; hates his siblings, then not. And for this reader, the Nietzchean discussions were confusing and of little dramatic interest. And his final acceptance of "the way things are" seemed terribly pat after so much internal sturm und drang.
While I realize that this is a memor and not a novel, my expectations of a more involving story were seldom realized.
A "lot six" is the Syrian slang for a homosexual, but I confess there is very little of Adjmi's sexuality in this book, neither pro nor con. As he went through his teens, twenties and thirties, I expected there to be some trace of sexuality in this "tell-all" memoir, but it seems to be so totally buried, that he omits this clearly troubling aspect of his life almost totally. He also moves through his "obsessions" rather quickly, with no real insight into what's really going on inside him. He hates his parents, then he doesn't; hates his siblings, then not. And for this reader, the Nietzchean discussions were confusing and of little dramatic interest. And his final acceptance of "the way things are" seemed terribly pat after so much internal sturm und drang.
While I realize that this is a memor and not a novel, my expectations of a more involving story were seldom realized.
March 8, 2020
Just as galactic and atmospheric as his mesmerizing body of work as a playwright, Adjmi’s memoir grips you in and pierces through the all too familiar pains of living on the margins of a provincialized world. With “Lot Six”, Adjmi shatters the stylized aesthetics of his theatrical work to expose an emotionally-rich self-portrait pieced together from a range of dark memories, inspired esoterica, and fantasies of what it means to be ‘cultured.’ What emerges however is no pastiche- wholly original and deeply earnest, “Lost Six” is a powerful rumination on storytelling and the stories we refigure to keep ourselves alive.
As a fellow ‘lot 6’ from the Syrian Jewish community this was a truly powerful read. His Promethean tale of self-re-fashioning read like tattered love-letter to a place that cannot be erased from your core. More than a memoir, “Lot Six” is like an auto-ethnography charting the nascence of a queer diaspora. Adjmi excavates that thin yet painful line we all try to walk that divides our homes from our dreams.
As a fellow ‘lot 6’ from the Syrian Jewish community this was a truly powerful read. His Promethean tale of self-re-fashioning read like tattered love-letter to a place that cannot be erased from your core. More than a memoir, “Lot Six” is like an auto-ethnography charting the nascence of a queer diaspora. Adjmi excavates that thin yet painful line we all try to walk that divides our homes from our dreams.
April 22, 2020
This is a stunning memoir that follows a brilliant, eccentric, sensitive, keenly observant, daring, hilarious Adjmi on his journey of self revelation. It is the portrait of how someone becomes a person and an artist. What culture are we born into and does that have anything to do with who we are? What do we appropriate in order to fashion our true selves? What is a person anyway? Adjmi writes about the search for identity through his engagement with the odd assemblage of characters that populate his life, through his close reading of literature and philosophy, through ecstatic friendships and diner waffles, through a series of odd jobs, through intense resonances with pop icons, through a succession of questionable hairdos and fashion statements. He writes about what he had to give up and what he had to build in order to survive. Reading LOT 6 feels like an extremely intimate slumber party with a friend who you want to grow up to BE. This is a shockingly raw, generous, huge-hearted memoir, as well as an incredibly incisive piece of critical theory. Adjmi is a genius.
October 25, 2020
What a beautiful and poignant story! For anyone who has ever felt different or felt pressure to conform, this book is for you. David Adjmi, now a celebrated playwright, tells his life story with wit and tenderness and even humor. Growing up in an insular Syrian Jewish community in Brooklyn, New York, David always felt different. He never fit in with his peers at yeshiva, with his high school classmates, or even in his own family. A tumultuous upbringing lends a very dark tone to parts of this book but its s ultimately a wonderful story of becoming your own person and learning to love yourself.
Thank you to the author and the publisher for the finished copy. All opinion are my own.
Thank you to the author and the publisher for the finished copy. All opinion are my own.
May 22, 2020
This book is brilliant. It is one of those I will re-visit for sure. I finished and knew right away that I will read it again. The writing is majestic and the story it tells is immediate and gripping and moving. An American memoir we have not seen as yet. I can not recommend it highly enough. Gorgeous!
March 5, 2020
Wow! I was transported back in time. This book took me back to the streets and to my adolescence in New York. David Adjmi has an incredible memory for beautifully reviving NY scents and scenes from the 80's and 90's pop, fashion, and art culture through words as we travel on his path to self discovery and success. It’s a beautifully orchestrated memoir and it sings in a language that makes you weep, laugh, cringe, commiserate with him, and most of all, root for him as he questions his place within the Syrian Jewish community in Brooklyn. His story evokes subconscious feelings from personal passages and you can certainly find a piece of yourself through his writing. I could reread this over and over and find myself beside him. I believe there is a Lot Six in all of us.
March 4, 2020
This book is so smart, poignant and funny. It's a memoir of David Adjmi, one of my favorite playwrights, all about his childhood in Brooklyn and his journey as an artist. There are so many amazing stories - they are hard-edged and melancholic - especially the ones concerning his difficult relationship with his father.
March 16, 2020
I couldn't put LOT SIX down. David Adjmi's memoir evokes the power of art -- how it molds, betrays and restores us -- in ways few books have. In every paragraph there's a knockout insight or breathtaking sentence. Brilliant, hilarious, heartbreaking, wise, and always, always thrillingly alive.
March 27, 2020
So smart and funny and entertaining and moving. Fans of Nietzsche and Falcon Crest will love it.
October 2, 2020
Audio book. too much detail and self importance by author.
July 31, 2020
This is my first time reading a memoir by a friend. It’s my first time reading a description of a childhood home and having the kind of double experience of the words in front of my eyes, alongside my memories of the place. I’ve been to that pizza place! He took me there! I remember that phase of his life he’s talking about! There’s also the fascinating counter narrative I have running while reading what’s on the page. There are the stories I remember from some of those times and they are layered on top the stories in the text, most of which I knew nothing about even as they were happening nearby.
I don’t have any idea what it would be like to read this book without previous knowledge of its author. I imagine it might make someone cry a few times, as it did me – as those moments were pure craft and nothing personal. (Although, of course, very personal to the subject of the book who, even if you don’t know him, you will likely come to care for.)
The book is artfully crafted – something I admired more than I might in the work of someone whose life I hadn’t seen some of the raw material of. If you know the fabric a bit, it’s all the more impressive to see it transformed into a suit. I spent half of the book exclaiming, “This explains so much” and the other half exclaiming, “I had no idea.”
At the center of the book, there’s a search for a kind of consistency of self, which I found fascinating. I was struck by the moment when he describes how his teacher in grad school asks him to define what would be “Adjmi-esque,” as it’s somehow unclear to this teacher. This surprised me because I feel like I know what’s Adjmi-esque and I’ve known from my first encounter with his work 26 years ago. To my eye, his aesthetic has always been unique and crystal clear. It’s mercurial, certainly, and can slip into many different containers easily, but the essence of it has been incredibly consistent. I suppose this search for a thing that he’s always had is true for a lot of us artists.
His aesthetic is quick, sharp, deeply felt, funny, grotesque and heartstruck at the cruelties of the world. This book is all those things, too. I hear his voice as I read it. I suspect even someone who’s never met him will recognize it by the time they’re done reading. It is that well done – that consistent – that clear.
I don’t have any idea what it would be like to read this book without previous knowledge of its author. I imagine it might make someone cry a few times, as it did me – as those moments were pure craft and nothing personal. (Although, of course, very personal to the subject of the book who, even if you don’t know him, you will likely come to care for.)
The book is artfully crafted – something I admired more than I might in the work of someone whose life I hadn’t seen some of the raw material of. If you know the fabric a bit, it’s all the more impressive to see it transformed into a suit. I spent half of the book exclaiming, “This explains so much” and the other half exclaiming, “I had no idea.”
At the center of the book, there’s a search for a kind of consistency of self, which I found fascinating. I was struck by the moment when he describes how his teacher in grad school asks him to define what would be “Adjmi-esque,” as it’s somehow unclear to this teacher. This surprised me because I feel like I know what’s Adjmi-esque and I’ve known from my first encounter with his work 26 years ago. To my eye, his aesthetic has always been unique and crystal clear. It’s mercurial, certainly, and can slip into many different containers easily, but the essence of it has been incredibly consistent. I suppose this search for a thing that he’s always had is true for a lot of us artists.
His aesthetic is quick, sharp, deeply felt, funny, grotesque and heartstruck at the cruelties of the world. This book is all those things, too. I hear his voice as I read it. I suspect even someone who’s never met him will recognize it by the time they’re done reading. It is that well done – that consistent – that clear.
December 19, 2020
I found this memoir bittersweet/ parts were really funny and light hearted (plus the 80’s references had me smiling and reminiscing for hours) but the darker memories were really sad and heartbreaking. Additionally, as a person with a strong personal belief in Judaism, I was sad to read the author’s agnostic feelings towards God and religion. I respect David Adjmi’s choices but it was still difficult to hear his dismal of Judaism. Kudos to narrator Micky Shiloah / his reading was fantastic!!!!
July 27, 2022
Not too bad for a blind date with a book. Theater is not my thing, but a good read.
December 21, 2020
Just like Adjmi's plays, I can see myself revisiting this book many more times. Brilliant, painful and full of rich empathetic discomfort. Every bit of this memoir had me awestruck. I highly recommend it.
June 16, 2020
David Adjmi's Lot Six is a stunning, virtuosic memoir -- a coming of age story that acknowledge the fact that to come of age is the work of a lifetime. Adjmi first brings us into the insular world of his childhood in Brooklyn's Syrian-Jewish community, "the Community" as its members say. Adjmi's characters -- the family that belies the SY definition of FAMILY, and the childhood friends who are both lifelines and obsessions -- never speak their truths, and it is Adjmi's great gift to be able to convey the emptiness and confusion of living in a society like that. Childhood was an act of survival for the author as it was for many of us, in our own familial petri dishes. And in the manner of all great writers, the honesty and detail in David Adjmi's writing strikes at the heart of anyone who has grown up unseen and unwanted as themselves. Later in the book, Adjmi, now a playwright, is awarded a slot in Juilliard's prestigious playwriting program, which becomes another act of survival as he finds himself the target of shame and bullying by one of the program's playwright-leaders. That he made it, and dug deep to share his experience with his readers with such raw defiance and with the vocabulary of an Oxford dean, is a gift and a message: Don't let yourself be silenced. The world needs your voice, David Adjmi. L'chaim.
March 7, 2020
I received an ARC from the publisher in exchange for an honest review. Opinions are my own.
This was an unexpectedly gorgeous read. Dense, unique, and written from a deeply specific point of view. This is not your average memoir. It asks big questions about identity and fate and overcoming trauma. It is steeped in pain but also really sly delicious humor. It’s a cliche to say something is laugh out loud funny and also devastating, but in this case it’s true. And he can write. The prose is like if David Sedaris met Nabokov plus some Salinger stresses—and a whole Syrian Jewish overlay added to all that. The point being, it's all very mesmerizing and easy to read, I would probably read recipes by this author (and I dislike reading recipes.)
Adjmi—who is known as a playwright, not a memoirist—is writing about the thin line between creating himself and creating his art. The strange and delicious series of turns in the book that get us from point A to point B are what make this worthwhile reading. He structures his book like a classic bildungsroman. The first part deals with his childhood, and his excruciating feeling of displacement. We spend a lot of time with his family (think Augusten Burroughs dysfunction but with Syrian Jews), and with Rabbis and Dentyne chewing teachers of his Jewish yeshiva (which is written as a kind of surrealist, hilarious black comedy) and inside the codependent friendship with his childhood best friend-- a brilliant pathological liar. The writing (particularly the section on puberty) is scathing, laser specific and frequently hilarious here. The second part is an hysterical (in both senses of the word) series of attempts for Adjmi to rebuild himself after cutting ties with his insular Syrian community. He moves from school to school, trying on very extreme identities, and the results are both very funny and very upsetting. This is where the book really starts to deepen and ask tough questions. Some of the writing here is just exceptional, very intimately and delicately crafted. The last two sections are about how he overcomes his issues with self esteem to forge a life as a writer.
It sounds simple, but there’s a real weight to the writing, a real intelligence underlying all the sharp observations and humorous anecdotes. Adjmi writes so powerfully about so many things: the feeling of being an exile on your own family, the loneliness of childhood, the terror that you will never escape your blighted past, that you will never be able to create anything meaningful from your life. There is so much tenderness and complexity and empathy in the writing, and the ending is completely heartbreaking. There were a couple of sections that dragged a little bit, and I would have like to have known more about the author’s romantic relationships and more specifically about how he came to terms with being a gay man, which is kind of sideswiped—but these are minor quibbles. I loved the voice in this book. I loved reading about the SY community, which is so rich and interesting. It reminded me of reading Ferrante, the hook and interest of that backdrop and the pull to be in that community even as you are not in that community. And the turn at the end is so satisfying when everything comes full circle (I don’t want to give it away, but the end gave me chills). An absolutely spectacular read overall, one of the best memoirs I’ve ever read. I loved it.
This was an unexpectedly gorgeous read. Dense, unique, and written from a deeply specific point of view. This is not your average memoir. It asks big questions about identity and fate and overcoming trauma. It is steeped in pain but also really sly delicious humor. It’s a cliche to say something is laugh out loud funny and also devastating, but in this case it’s true. And he can write. The prose is like if David Sedaris met Nabokov plus some Salinger stresses—and a whole Syrian Jewish overlay added to all that. The point being, it's all very mesmerizing and easy to read, I would probably read recipes by this author (and I dislike reading recipes.)
Adjmi—who is known as a playwright, not a memoirist—is writing about the thin line between creating himself and creating his art. The strange and delicious series of turns in the book that get us from point A to point B are what make this worthwhile reading. He structures his book like a classic bildungsroman. The first part deals with his childhood, and his excruciating feeling of displacement. We spend a lot of time with his family (think Augusten Burroughs dysfunction but with Syrian Jews), and with Rabbis and Dentyne chewing teachers of his Jewish yeshiva (which is written as a kind of surrealist, hilarious black comedy) and inside the codependent friendship with his childhood best friend-- a brilliant pathological liar. The writing (particularly the section on puberty) is scathing, laser specific and frequently hilarious here. The second part is an hysterical (in both senses of the word) series of attempts for Adjmi to rebuild himself after cutting ties with his insular Syrian community. He moves from school to school, trying on very extreme identities, and the results are both very funny and very upsetting. This is where the book really starts to deepen and ask tough questions. Some of the writing here is just exceptional, very intimately and delicately crafted. The last two sections are about how he overcomes his issues with self esteem to forge a life as a writer.
It sounds simple, but there’s a real weight to the writing, a real intelligence underlying all the sharp observations and humorous anecdotes. Adjmi writes so powerfully about so many things: the feeling of being an exile on your own family, the loneliness of childhood, the terror that you will never escape your blighted past, that you will never be able to create anything meaningful from your life. There is so much tenderness and complexity and empathy in the writing, and the ending is completely heartbreaking. There were a couple of sections that dragged a little bit, and I would have like to have known more about the author’s romantic relationships and more specifically about how he came to terms with being a gay man, which is kind of sideswiped—but these are minor quibbles. I loved the voice in this book. I loved reading about the SY community, which is so rich and interesting. It reminded me of reading Ferrante, the hook and interest of that backdrop and the pull to be in that community even as you are not in that community. And the turn at the end is so satisfying when everything comes full circle (I don’t want to give it away, but the end gave me chills). An absolutely spectacular read overall, one of the best memoirs I’ve ever read. I loved it.
March 15, 2020
I love how Adjmi seamlessly weaves the plots of films and musicals into his own personal narrative. The plots from works of art resonate so deeply with him and his own human experience that they become a part of his personal arc. HIs descriptions of growing up in New York City in the 80's and 90's are gritty and true. A real strength of this memoir is Adjmi's adept writing of the inner life of children. His stellar prose stabs the reader with the emotional turmoil of childhood. It's deft and cuts like a knife. His description of his childhood best friend, Howie stayed with me."He laughed easily and copiously, and it was contagious. The laughter felt explosive and secret, a barely capped hysteria. I sensed the laughter belied more primitive forces, that is opened into giant amphitheaters of rage and despair, but I was too wrapped up and delirium to care." The story of Audrey Levy showed how his navigation of his childhood was an endless loop of being hurt - and in that instance when he finally fought back against his tormenter, he saw in a brilliant flash that she was the a tormented as himself. It's a theme that resonates throughout the memoir - the pain that people hide in different ways, and the revelations you come to when you see into thier hearts. It is a wonderful read with many, many layers to unpack.
September 4, 2020
It was good but not great. Adjmi writes well but the main thing that gets in the way is his thesaurus-like vocabulary. Whether he truly talks like that or kept burnishing the manuscript with more and more obscure words is irrelevant. What's clear is that he keeps reaching for ten dollar words and it often gets in the way. Great writers know that you don't always have to use the SAT word that no one in their right mind uses, but Adjmi loves them. I also wish the book was funnier. While I am not SY (I'm definitely J-Dub), I know Syrian Jews and they are very funny, have a funny vocabulary, and tell very funny stories. Maybe he is still too angry with the community and sore from growing up "Lot Six" in that macho environment, but his spin on his stories was often too serious. To his credit, he got the dialogue right - especially how female SYs talk. I also admire him for leaving the community, as that isn't an easy thing to do. There isn't a huge canon of books on the Brooklyn SY community, so if you want to learn more, there's Adjmi and there's Isaac Mizrahi. Plus every five years or so, the NY Times publishes an article on the community - those are also required reading.
February 28, 2023
Wrenching, funny, absurd, and delightfully compulsively analytical. The misery we make for ourselves and others, the needlessly crushing insecurities we carry, the dysfunction in family and society that is taken for granted by some and taken for mad and nonsensical by a bewildered few--David doesn't stint in his depiction of his life growing up in the "SY" community, and we're rooting for his escape into self-actualization, which is hella circuitous--making the book both humorous and heartbreaking.
April 4, 2020
Lot 6 is a moving and often hilarious memoir by the talented playwright David Adjmi. His portrayals of the Syrian Jewish community in Brooklyn, where he grew up, are moving and hilarious—because they’re never cruel and because he’s most funny about himself. (I was laughing out loud throughout the book.) He makes a solid case for the importance of art, showing how it can help people overcome difficult childhoods, and provide community and meaning for those who do not find acceptance in their families of origin. It’s satisfying to see how Adjmi comes to terms with his history, and how he then transmits his experiences to others through art. The cultural criticism woven through allowed me to consider certain works of art in new ways, and showed how artists are shaped by their cultural experiences, beginning at an early age. And did I mention that it’s funny?
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