Having finished No One You Know, I am having trouble capturing the essence of the book in a succinct way. It’s said that clarity in brevity is a sign of a sharp, quick witted story-teller, a gift which Mr. Schwartzman has in abundance. After a night out with friends, conversations with a stranger on a bus or in these pandemic days, catching up over Zoom, we are sometimes fortunate enough to be left with a feeling that something meaningful has transpired, that we have bonded and grown in new ways and are the better for it. Yet, if pressed, few of us could put our finger on why – on what occurred that left us feeling this way.
In No One You Know, Jason is able to pick up on these little things that stay with us from interactions with those who fill our world. The way the books weaves together these moments in time allows the author to explore how self perception shifts based not only on who we are interacting with but who we have interacted with. Simply by recollection, No One You Know untangles how our memories shape us and how fleeting moments with others create their perceptions of us.
By looking at snippets over a lifetime, Schwartzman explores how we are new versions of ourselves to each acquaintance we make – how a PA on a film may not perceive you as a writer and, how children in a new environment may not perceive you as a timid risk taker, though we think of ourselves that way. I remember going on dates, having similar conversations over and over again and wishing these people knew me – my background, my tastes, my skills, my humor. But instead in life we are forced to divulge ourselves anew each time and, while the fundamental may stay the same for us, we are a different person each time, a self being molded by the continuous game of telephone that is life.