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Person
You see him at the liquor store. You see him at the bus stop, trying to look at you without being seen. Who is he? He is a person. In this debut novel, a person walks around Chicago contemplating the possibility of starving to death on purpose. He has sex with his neighbor. He goes out to look for a job but just buys little plastic dogs from homeless people instead. Who is the person? The person is you. The person is me. The person is sitting in his room shooting an empty pellet gun at his face, feeling the slow exhaustion of a Co2 cartridge. The person sits in a bathtub reading his roommate's yearbook. He wants to create a contract mandating worldwide friendship. Person invents new and splendid ways of not getting along. You will read this book and remember why you mainly read books that have sex in them. You will become . . . a person.
87 pages, Paperback
First published October 1, 2010
45 people are currently reading
3545 people want to read
About the author
Sam Pink
63 books821 followersSam Pink is the author of The No Hellos Diet, Hurt Others, I Am Going to Clone Myself Then Kill the Clone and Eat It, Frowns Need Friends Too, and the cult hit Person. His writing has been published widely in print and on the internet, and also in other languages. He lives in Chicago, where he plays in the band Depressed Woman.
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Displaying 1 - 30 of 217 reviews
July 20, 2011
Person is not a specific person in the sense that it's a character whose arc we follow through a story. This is a snapshot of loneliness and alienation, of over-powering apathy and lack of motivation. The person in Person has no name. He has no description aside from the inner thoughts he shares with us over 87 pages. Person has no sense of self, no ambition to be someone or do something, no idea at all, really, of who he is, or what he wants, or wants to be. Funny, a little sad, pathetic, occasionally annoying, this is Person, and this is the triumph of Person. We have all felt like him at some point. Sam Pink wrote a book that is the equivalent of holding up a mirror that shows you the truth, not just what you want to see.
January 16, 2018
What I liked the most: glossy cover, book cover (I like all Sam Pink's book covers and book titles), 80 pages long, stylish choices, postmodern repetitions or leitmotivs (neon/practice/left of you...), brevity of the chapters, fluidity of the prose, introspection, insightfulness (about the stupid seriousness of hard to get dead-end jobs [3 interviews!], mind games [Eventually I blink. I think he thinks that means he won somehow] and other stuff), baby Jimbo's part, imagination (angel's slice, doll house, gum in the Earth, etc.), emotional bits (necklace, wolf toy while napping, etc.) I enjoyed reading it very much.
What I disliked the most: the "other version" of some chapters, the foolishness (no matter how purposeful) of some points, while fashionable (most contemporary art is all about vomiting silliness just because), too irritating for my liking. I want to think that the cancer, toothpaste and other silly as hell moments where jokes, playing around, portrays of contemporary twenty-something crackheads or just artsy bizarro, but, even so, Sam took it too far with the razors and the four cuts in the head ($20 for an electric shaver, dammit, that was too painfully silly but I understand that a well-functioning character would have been boring and actually him doing that lead to a cool part with a gal so I get it but fuck it, man...]).
[P.S. A review consisting in pointing at every single thing one liked and disliked seems pretty stupid to me after writing it; sorry, just felt like doing it]
What I disliked the most: the "other version" of some chapters, the foolishness (no matter how purposeful) of some points, while fashionable (most contemporary art is all about vomiting silliness just because), too irritating for my liking. I want to think that the cancer, toothpaste and other silly as hell moments where jokes, playing around, portrays of contemporary twenty-something crackheads or just artsy bizarro, but, even so, Sam took it too far with the razors and the four cuts in the head ($20 for an electric shaver, dammit, that was too painfully silly but I understand that a well-functioning character would have been boring and actually him doing that lead to a cool part with a gal so I get it but fuck it, man...]).
[P.S. A review consisting in pointing at every single thing one liked and disliked seems pretty stupid to me after writing it; sorry, just felt like doing it]
February 10, 2015
I got this as a free Kindle book. The detachment and alienation of Person reminded me of The Stranger for Some reason. This is a writer that I want to read more of. Very good.
May 10, 2025
I had been given this review copy from the author waaaaay back in 2012. I've read quite a few Sam Pink books and loved them all so I'm not sure why I left this one lingering on the bookshelf unread for so long. But I just finished God Jr by Dennis Cooper and I was in the mood for more weird guy fiction and Sam Pink will always scratch that itch.
Person follows a slacker dude around town while he walks the streets of Chicago, swings into a liquor store, talks to the local homeless guys (and himself), worries about how smelly his armpits are, lounges on the floor of his room in his sleeping bag, and splits oranges with his deadbeat roommate.
I love the "other version" chapters that pop up, like re-do's of what was just done or a parallel version of what would have happened if he had made a different choice. And the choices are as banal as what he does in the park after he leaves a chick's house, or what he and his roommate say to each other after they get back to their apartment with their hands full of beer.
And the whole book is filled with fun nuggets like:
"My history is the history of things imagined and not- happened."
"I detect some new kind of ouch in my headhole and it feels permanent."
"Sometimes I definitely feel a sense of accomplishment but it's never after accomplishing something."
And how about that vagina face? Huh? HUH?!
Are you sleeping on the Pink? Because you really, really shouldn't. His book are the bomb.
Person follows a slacker dude around town while he walks the streets of Chicago, swings into a liquor store, talks to the local homeless guys (and himself), worries about how smelly his armpits are, lounges on the floor of his room in his sleeping bag, and splits oranges with his deadbeat roommate.
I love the "other version" chapters that pop up, like re-do's of what was just done or a parallel version of what would have happened if he had made a different choice. And the choices are as banal as what he does in the park after he leaves a chick's house, or what he and his roommate say to each other after they get back to their apartment with their hands full of beer.
And the whole book is filled with fun nuggets like:
"My history is the history of things imagined and not- happened."
"I detect some new kind of ouch in my headhole and it feels permanent."
"Sometimes I definitely feel a sense of accomplishment but it's never after accomplishing something."
And how about that vagina face? Huh? HUH?!
Are you sleeping on the Pink? Because you really, really shouldn't. His book are the bomb.
December 9, 2020
One of the best books on depression since Gregor Samsa woke up as a cockroach.
January 21, 2015
Back when I bought a copy of Shoplifting from American Apparel, I also bought a copy of Person by Sam Pink. Since my first exposure to alt lit resulted in what can only be called a complete nervous book-down, I was understandably reluctant to read Pink. Lin’s SfAA filled me with such disgust that had I read anything similar immediately afterward and then discussed it I would have needed a new anus.
But a few years have passed, and the fire of my hatred has dimmed. Also, Person is a slim volume and tempted me after I had finished The Goldfinch, which, as much as I love Donna Tartt, was a brick, and a very tiresome brick at around page 550. I needed something easy and something quick and there Person was, in my nightstand cupboard, nestled in with far longer and more outrageous fare. So I decided to just hold my nose and jump into Person and see what happened.
Person and SfAA are very similar books. Both feature disaffected, grubby young protagonists. Both books mine the same disenchanted hipster veins. The very structures of the books down to the sentence formations are similar. So how come I really like Person?
It’s difficult to explain, and because I recently got my winter clothes out (Jesus, I began this discussion back in mid-November – ugh!), I think I have a decent enough explanation. You know how it is that one red sweater can make you look like a porcelain-skinned angel and another red sweater can make you look like a chapped potato? They’re both red, just different reds. But you know, that analogy is a bad one because the red that makes me look like someone’s ruddy Irish nanna isn’t innately a shitty color and the one that makes me look like I’ve never once had a sunburn isn’t innately a heavenly color. By any sane standard, SfAA is a terrible book. I guess what I am saying here is that for the most part I hate most alt lit (and increasingly the writers behind the genre), but you can’t judge a book by its color just because some colors look better than others. And if it seems like I am being completely incoherent so that pompous tenured professors working in the Corn Belt can insult me because every extemporaneous book discussion needs to be indistinguishable from a doctoral thesis, that isn’t what’s happening. Nope. Not at all.
Still, I think I can make a case for why it is that Person is such a better book. Or at least a book worth reading.
The Person in Person is a grubby young man who is living a grubby, tiresome life. He has very little money. He has a roommate for whom he feels a lot of enmity but whom he treats reasonably politely. Sometimes he tries to get a job. Sometimes he sleeps with a girl who lives in his apartment complex. Mostly he wanders the cold, horrible streets of a city, any city though this city is Chicago, realizing how bleak things are and how little will he possesses to change. He is a complete misanthrope, which is nice because in alt lit one gets very overwhelmed by Lin-esque writers who don’t even have the depth of humanity to hate – they just mock and hope we feel really bad when they are finished.
You can read my entire discussion here.
But a few years have passed, and the fire of my hatred has dimmed. Also, Person is a slim volume and tempted me after I had finished The Goldfinch, which, as much as I love Donna Tartt, was a brick, and a very tiresome brick at around page 550. I needed something easy and something quick and there Person was, in my nightstand cupboard, nestled in with far longer and more outrageous fare. So I decided to just hold my nose and jump into Person and see what happened.
Person and SfAA are very similar books. Both feature disaffected, grubby young protagonists. Both books mine the same disenchanted hipster veins. The very structures of the books down to the sentence formations are similar. So how come I really like Person?
It’s difficult to explain, and because I recently got my winter clothes out (Jesus, I began this discussion back in mid-November – ugh!), I think I have a decent enough explanation. You know how it is that one red sweater can make you look like a porcelain-skinned angel and another red sweater can make you look like a chapped potato? They’re both red, just different reds. But you know, that analogy is a bad one because the red that makes me look like someone’s ruddy Irish nanna isn’t innately a shitty color and the one that makes me look like I’ve never once had a sunburn isn’t innately a heavenly color. By any sane standard, SfAA is a terrible book. I guess what I am saying here is that for the most part I hate most alt lit (and increasingly the writers behind the genre), but you can’t judge a book by its color just because some colors look better than others. And if it seems like I am being completely incoherent so that pompous tenured professors working in the Corn Belt can insult me because every extemporaneous book discussion needs to be indistinguishable from a doctoral thesis, that isn’t what’s happening. Nope. Not at all.
Still, I think I can make a case for why it is that Person is such a better book. Or at least a book worth reading.
The Person in Person is a grubby young man who is living a grubby, tiresome life. He has very little money. He has a roommate for whom he feels a lot of enmity but whom he treats reasonably politely. Sometimes he tries to get a job. Sometimes he sleeps with a girl who lives in his apartment complex. Mostly he wanders the cold, horrible streets of a city, any city though this city is Chicago, realizing how bleak things are and how little will he possesses to change. He is a complete misanthrope, which is nice because in alt lit one gets very overwhelmed by Lin-esque writers who don’t even have the depth of humanity to hate – they just mock and hope we feel really bad when they are finished.
You can read my entire discussion here.
April 28, 2024
I want to say supportive things about a fellow indie author, I really do, but...damn it. This is the laziest book I've ever read, even lazier than Cormac Friggin McCarthy's The Road. That makes my blood boil. You see, I hate Cormac Friggin McCarthy, and I wanted to go on thinking that The Road was the laziest book even written, but now I can't do that anymore. Now I have to say unsupportive things about an orphan, starving small-fry independent author about how HE has written the laziest book rather than bash on some pultizer prize winning wanker. For making me do that, Sam Pink, I cannot forgive you.
This is not a book. Its a short story made up of 3-5 word sentences. It seems like "spare prose" is the latest trend in vacuous, patronizing things to say about writing that offers little to the reader.
"Spare" could mean many things: it could mean concise. It could mean basic. It could mean stripped down. It could mean enigmatic and inscrutable.
It could also mean absent. As in: nothing there. Empty. Banal. Void. Brain dead. Shallow. Flat. Pointless. Obtuse.
Of all of those adjectives, "nothing there" is the kindest I can impart. It reads like someone's stream-of-consciousness spontaneous writing exercise that was half-heartedly molded into an existential narrative.
If the writing seems familiar, it's probably because you already WROTE this book yourself: Go re-read the embarrassingly trite diary entries you wrote when you were 16 and see if you don't notice any similarities.
If any of the characters had been further developed, this could have been a real book.
Like the characters in the book itself, my reaction was generic, flat and emotionless. I read the last word, breathed a sigh, looked up and said: "Huh? That's it I guess. Well, I better go put on some socks, change a light bulb or engage in some similar banal activity."
This is not a book. Its a short story made up of 3-5 word sentences. It seems like "spare prose" is the latest trend in vacuous, patronizing things to say about writing that offers little to the reader.
"Spare" could mean many things: it could mean concise. It could mean basic. It could mean stripped down. It could mean enigmatic and inscrutable.
It could also mean absent. As in: nothing there. Empty. Banal. Void. Brain dead. Shallow. Flat. Pointless. Obtuse.
Of all of those adjectives, "nothing there" is the kindest I can impart. It reads like someone's stream-of-consciousness spontaneous writing exercise that was half-heartedly molded into an existential narrative.
If the writing seems familiar, it's probably because you already WROTE this book yourself: Go re-read the embarrassingly trite diary entries you wrote when you were 16 and see if you don't notice any similarities.
If any of the characters had been further developed, this could have been a real book.
Like the characters in the book itself, my reaction was generic, flat and emotionless. I read the last word, breathed a sigh, looked up and said: "Huh? That's it I guess. Well, I better go put on some socks, change a light bulb or engage in some similar banal activity."
August 5, 2015
I forget what chapter it was--but the one about jimbo had me rolllllling. that was worth the read alone. otherwise I like this guy's prose and eccentric characters and am off to read witch piss.
November 24, 2014
I want to punch this writer in the mouth. I don't know why I have that urge. Insulting literature? Complaining about how he doesn't brush his teeth enough and that is suppose to be important to me? Whining about being a giant pussy as if it is a badge of courage?
I am sure he is a good guy and all, it's just something about this book. It is pretty funny with lots of dead pan humor; which I appreciate. Maybe I am just jealous of his jokes, or maybe it is just a shitty book. I don't know. Let's just say after this book, we have come a long way in the world of literature and what is considered "art". I hope his next book is called "Fart" and its 200 pages of the word fart. That would be a worthy piece and I think would do quite well in the obscure art scene where everyone is a winner and nothing sucks.
The book captures the dullness/boredom of modern life without being pretentious. However, that is its very problem, it goes nowhere with that dullness/boredom. Pink writes like a generic Bukowski. It's Bukowski without the talent, just dull and boring trite journal observations.
The book is a journal of a funny man. It is neurotic and self hating, which are all great qualities in writers and something every writer should strive towards being and not be ashamed of this behavior. Because in our world, these are positive traits, not negative. Hating yourself and not accomplishing things are actually good things. It means you are "self aware" and living the "real life". The more you deconstruct yourself and your surroundings the more honest the world is, right? The more intelligent you are, right? It doesn't lead to meaningless life and being stuck in a constant rut of failure due to your lack of self responsibility to dig yourself out. It is overall boring. Lots of complaining and ranting in the most self centered thing one can do.
Everyone should really care about these things more and what Sam Pink thinks about sleeping on a floor in a sleeping bag, with no job, and no groceries. Having no job, sleeping in sleeping bags, and no groceries is super cool and makes you punk rock. It is noble cause in modern America. You also get tons of pussy and lots of STDs, which is also super fun. If you do these things, you are living a authentic life as you stare at your belly button for six hours while holding a ninja sword in your vacant apartment, because its just cool and stuff, dude.
Is anyone else bored? Hasn't this been prevalent in literature for the last 60 years?
It's really inspiring stuff and is a peer into the uselessness of a spoiled generation bent on vacant entertainment and idolizing laziness and lacking any ambition, he really "holds a mirror up to society" I guess and its arrested development mentality. Besides being an infant, perhaps he should try stand up comedy routines. He is no writer, he could be a comic perhaps. He should be a comic. Be a comic.
The book is written in a stream of conscious manner. Lots of terms the youth can identify with, like "dude" and "awesome", which makes it relevant reading and really authentic and original. The equivalent of this writing is going to a friends art show and staring at a painting you know is shit; (you know the one) but you want to be nice, so you say its good or you just punch them in the balls. The book reminds me if you posted a twitter comment and a friend thought it was super clever/funny and you got the shitty/delusional idea you were an actual writer. Perhaps it is a funny comment, but it is not worth writing a whole fuckin' book about. Stick to twitter. This book also reminds of staring at a turd in a toilet for an hour. (I will be updating this section with further annoying metaphors as they come to me, stay tuned).
This is not literature, this is short jokes and quips.
The book lacks any cohesive structure (much like this review), each chapter is a short experience I am sure that was written down in a few minutes. This is how books are now. Vacant, self absorbed, twitter-like style. There is no revision, no contemplation. Its churning books out as fast as you can shit them out. This is due to most people lacking an imagination, having the attention span of a retarded rabbit and the artistic sense of a drunken homeless man. There is no talent, it is trite observations with sporadic funny joke jokes here and there. This book is garbage, most like the modern world is. I am guessing that means its a gem and super good in the world of modern fiction because it is the "anti-book" and super rebellious; which of course permeates everything. There is a reason Hemingway always said "never read books by authors that are alive, only read books by dead authors, they stand the test of time".
Quotes:
"Cutting my own hair for years has maybe contributed to me feeling different from other people in a fundamental way."
"...I will move out of this apartment and into a new one. And then another. And how I will use my most trusted moving technique. (You start by throwing almost everything you own in the garbage or in the alley)."
"Right now my job is lying on my sleeping bag in my room while thinking about getting a job. Right now I am doing my job."
I am sure he is a good guy and all, it's just something about this book. It is pretty funny with lots of dead pan humor; which I appreciate. Maybe I am just jealous of his jokes, or maybe it is just a shitty book. I don't know. Let's just say after this book, we have come a long way in the world of literature and what is considered "art". I hope his next book is called "Fart" and its 200 pages of the word fart. That would be a worthy piece and I think would do quite well in the obscure art scene where everyone is a winner and nothing sucks.
The book captures the dullness/boredom of modern life without being pretentious. However, that is its very problem, it goes nowhere with that dullness/boredom. Pink writes like a generic Bukowski. It's Bukowski without the talent, just dull and boring trite journal observations.
The book is a journal of a funny man. It is neurotic and self hating, which are all great qualities in writers and something every writer should strive towards being and not be ashamed of this behavior. Because in our world, these are positive traits, not negative. Hating yourself and not accomplishing things are actually good things. It means you are "self aware" and living the "real life". The more you deconstruct yourself and your surroundings the more honest the world is, right? The more intelligent you are, right? It doesn't lead to meaningless life and being stuck in a constant rut of failure due to your lack of self responsibility to dig yourself out. It is overall boring. Lots of complaining and ranting in the most self centered thing one can do.
Everyone should really care about these things more and what Sam Pink thinks about sleeping on a floor in a sleeping bag, with no job, and no groceries. Having no job, sleeping in sleeping bags, and no groceries is super cool and makes you punk rock. It is noble cause in modern America. You also get tons of pussy and lots of STDs, which is also super fun. If you do these things, you are living a authentic life as you stare at your belly button for six hours while holding a ninja sword in your vacant apartment, because its just cool and stuff, dude.
Is anyone else bored? Hasn't this been prevalent in literature for the last 60 years?
It's really inspiring stuff and is a peer into the uselessness of a spoiled generation bent on vacant entertainment and idolizing laziness and lacking any ambition, he really "holds a mirror up to society" I guess and its arrested development mentality. Besides being an infant, perhaps he should try stand up comedy routines. He is no writer, he could be a comic perhaps. He should be a comic. Be a comic.
The book is written in a stream of conscious manner. Lots of terms the youth can identify with, like "dude" and "awesome", which makes it relevant reading and really authentic and original. The equivalent of this writing is going to a friends art show and staring at a painting you know is shit; (you know the one) but you want to be nice, so you say its good or you just punch them in the balls. The book reminds me if you posted a twitter comment and a friend thought it was super clever/funny and you got the shitty/delusional idea you were an actual writer. Perhaps it is a funny comment, but it is not worth writing a whole fuckin' book about. Stick to twitter. This book also reminds of staring at a turd in a toilet for an hour. (I will be updating this section with further annoying metaphors as they come to me, stay tuned).
This is not literature, this is short jokes and quips.
The book lacks any cohesive structure (much like this review), each chapter is a short experience I am sure that was written down in a few minutes. This is how books are now. Vacant, self absorbed, twitter-like style. There is no revision, no contemplation. Its churning books out as fast as you can shit them out. This is due to most people lacking an imagination, having the attention span of a retarded rabbit and the artistic sense of a drunken homeless man. There is no talent, it is trite observations with sporadic funny joke jokes here and there. This book is garbage, most like the modern world is. I am guessing that means its a gem and super good in the world of modern fiction because it is the "anti-book" and super rebellious; which of course permeates everything. There is a reason Hemingway always said "never read books by authors that are alive, only read books by dead authors, they stand the test of time".
Quotes:
"Cutting my own hair for years has maybe contributed to me feeling different from other people in a fundamental way."
"...I will move out of this apartment and into a new one. And then another. And how I will use my most trusted moving technique. (You start by throwing almost everything you own in the garbage or in the alley)."
"Right now my job is lying on my sleeping bag in my room while thinking about getting a job. Right now I am doing my job."
December 7, 2018
PERSON by Sam Pink was a pretty damn good book. It didn't feel like practice. It had been sitting on my shelf for quite some time, unread. Something pushed me to finally pick it up and take a look. I'm glad I did. It wasn't what I expected, it was better. Except for that first chapter.
The first chapter was rough. I really wanted to close the book and say "F this". The protagonist, the titular Person, left a lot to be desired. He came off as whiney and negative and just a black cloud of a person. Not the type of protagonist I wanted to get into a whole story with. But I read through it and beyond and the second chapter kept me going into the third and I was okay to go on.
This was an odd reading experience. I don't recall ever having read a book where I so badly wanted to put it down after the first chapter only to have me completely won over in the subsequent chapter. An awful book became a decent book which ultimately became an awesome book.
I'd love to give it 5 stars, but I can't. That first chapter really drags down the overall picture of the book. I wish it didn't exist. I don't even feel like the protagonist in the first chapter is the same person in the rest of the book. I wish there could be a do over or someone told me just to skip the first chapter and start at chapter 2. But, in the end, PERSON is still a pretty great book and I sure want to read more by Sam Pink.
The first chapter was rough. I really wanted to close the book and say "F this". The protagonist, the titular Person, left a lot to be desired. He came off as whiney and negative and just a black cloud of a person. Not the type of protagonist I wanted to get into a whole story with. But I read through it and beyond and the second chapter kept me going into the third and I was okay to go on.
This was an odd reading experience. I don't recall ever having read a book where I so badly wanted to put it down after the first chapter only to have me completely won over in the subsequent chapter. An awful book became a decent book which ultimately became an awesome book.
I'd love to give it 5 stars, but I can't. That first chapter really drags down the overall picture of the book. I wish it didn't exist. I don't even feel like the protagonist in the first chapter is the same person in the rest of the book. I wish there could be a do over or someone told me just to skip the first chapter and start at chapter 2. But, in the end, PERSON is still a pretty great book and I sure want to read more by Sam Pink.
November 24, 2011
Person's some tight shit. I'd read this book even if there were a fleet of rape drones saying, "Just do it. I dare you." I'd lick my reading finger and just do it anyway. Fuck a rape drone.
September 16, 2013
So this is what I chose to read on a Friday 13th that occurred in the ninth month of the year 2013. This is, of course, absolutely inconsequential to anything I'm about to say about this book, but then again random seems to be my middle name lately.
More to the point, I feel like I need to start this review by saying that this is my first time ever reading bizarro fiction, as well as the first time I read a Sam Pink book. I can't say what exactly my expectations were before starting it, as the book was a very random pick for me, but I guess that's better when it comes to bizarro fiction.
Person is not about a story you could simply tell to somebody, it's not about a certain event that occurs or a specific person that you get to know and could later describe, but neither is it some abstract text about the meaning of life or, you know, something important like that. It reads like a kind of constant stream of thoughts that each and every one of us has, like an inner dialogue triggered by everything that we are surrounded by and by things we experience. It certainly feels like this is more than one person's narration, though; not necessarily in the psycho or schizo way, but more like having in front of you a person that's a collective image of all people. The overall feel of the book is definitely more on the negative side of the feels-spectrum than on the bright side; there's loneliness (maybe intentionally sought even) and awkwardness, yet nothing feels exaggerated or overdone. Although in only 87 pages, the author manages to put the person in a lot of different situations and contexts that add up to the collective person image that makes it easy for one to relate to the narrator.
I entertain the idea that if my present life is the punishment for a former life, then I would never want to meet myself as the self of this former life.
I mean, come on, we've all been there, right?
To say this book was bizarre or strange is probably the most stupid thing I could say about it given its genre, but yes, that's what it is. It feels wrong and right, you feel bad and then you laugh. Being slightly disturbed by the feeling of being able to relate, I reached the point where I honestly asked myself "Is it bad that I can actually relate to a lot of what I read?" No, I don't think so, because I'm sure everybody in this world can find something to relate to. Every person, that is...
More to the point, I feel like I need to start this review by saying that this is my first time ever reading bizarro fiction, as well as the first time I read a Sam Pink book. I can't say what exactly my expectations were before starting it, as the book was a very random pick for me, but I guess that's better when it comes to bizarro fiction.
Person is not about a story you could simply tell to somebody, it's not about a certain event that occurs or a specific person that you get to know and could later describe, but neither is it some abstract text about the meaning of life or, you know, something important like that. It reads like a kind of constant stream of thoughts that each and every one of us has, like an inner dialogue triggered by everything that we are surrounded by and by things we experience. It certainly feels like this is more than one person's narration, though; not necessarily in the psycho or schizo way, but more like having in front of you a person that's a collective image of all people. The overall feel of the book is definitely more on the negative side of the feels-spectrum than on the bright side; there's loneliness (maybe intentionally sought even) and awkwardness, yet nothing feels exaggerated or overdone. Although in only 87 pages, the author manages to put the person in a lot of different situations and contexts that add up to the collective person image that makes it easy for one to relate to the narrator.
I entertain the idea that if my present life is the punishment for a former life, then I would never want to meet myself as the self of this former life.
I mean, come on, we've all been there, right?
To say this book was bizarre or strange is probably the most stupid thing I could say about it given its genre, but yes, that's what it is. It feels wrong and right, you feel bad and then you laugh. Being slightly disturbed by the feeling of being able to relate, I reached the point where I honestly asked myself "Is it bad that I can actually relate to a lot of what I read?" No, I don't think so, because I'm sure everybody in this world can find something to relate to. Every person, that is...
January 5, 2024
This is a slap in the face.
Sam Pink portrays here a person like no other, distinct by his own indistinctness. He's the guy riding the train, he's the guy sitting on the bench, he's the guy ahead of you in the line. You don't notice him or barely, you don't interact with him, you don't know or care about his life.
Although... his life is tough, pointless, hard... and he could really benefit from an open discussion once in a while...
Sam Pink portrays here a person like no other, distinct by his own indistinctness. He's the guy riding the train, he's the guy sitting on the bench, he's the guy ahead of you in the line. You don't notice him or barely, you don't interact with him, you don't know or care about his life.
Although... his life is tough, pointless, hard... and he could really benefit from an open discussion once in a while...
December 3, 2020
The person of the title is someone who seems strange and yet he is in (almost) all of us. He thinks in choppy sentences, his mind wanders as do his feet, and he spends much of this novella doing pretty much nothing. There are moments in which it seems as if things are going to lead into more plot-heavy territory, but by the time you turn the page all of that becomes mostly irrelevant. Some of the events recounted are extremely mundane, while others are ridiculously absurd. The dialogue has an uncanny-valley-like effect. People don't really talk this way...but they almost do. The dialogue is comically and eerily familiar and unfamiliar.
This novella presents a mildly distorted view of the world around us through the eyes of someone whose self hatred and strange thought patterns become fascinating reading. Not to mention, this book is also hilarious. With so many moments of absurdity, it's hard not to laugh along with much of Sam Pink's bizarro vision of modern-day American society. It's depressing and dark as hell, too. And it's extremely entertaining.
This novella presents a mildly distorted view of the world around us through the eyes of someone whose self hatred and strange thought patterns become fascinating reading. Not to mention, this book is also hilarious. With so many moments of absurdity, it's hard not to laugh along with much of Sam Pink's bizarro vision of modern-day American society. It's depressing and dark as hell, too. And it's extremely entertaining.
March 8, 2011
"I live in Chicago and I don't get along with a lot of people and the reasons are always new and wonderful."
This is a quick read, but a touching one. It's a first-person portrait of extreme loneliness, mistrust and alienation, and how those feelings can reinforce one another, demand your loyalty and make you love them, until finally you start to enjoy being sad and look forward to dying. I've totally felt like this, and Sam Pink nails it.
(But again I say: no stars for books on the same press as me! And Lazy Fascist is an imprint of Eraserhead, so we are welcoming LF into the nepotism-free zone here. However, I might be persuaded to give this book several of those stickers that says "GOOD JOB" or "MUCH IMPROVED" or "HANG IN THERE" ... the narrator of this story is the kind of person who might be deeply moved by such things. Alternately, I would gladly bake this book a cake. Or some fudge. Every good book deserves fudge.)
This is a quick read, but a touching one. It's a first-person portrait of extreme loneliness, mistrust and alienation, and how those feelings can reinforce one another, demand your loyalty and make you love them, until finally you start to enjoy being sad and look forward to dying. I've totally felt like this, and Sam Pink nails it.
(But again I say: no stars for books on the same press as me! And Lazy Fascist is an imprint of Eraserhead, so we are welcoming LF into the nepotism-free zone here. However, I might be persuaded to give this book several of those stickers that says "GOOD JOB" or "MUCH IMPROVED" or "HANG IN THERE" ... the narrator of this story is the kind of person who might be deeply moved by such things. Alternately, I would gladly bake this book a cake. Or some fudge. Every good book deserves fudge.)
November 18, 2011
I came to this book at the most perfect time when I wasn't right in the head due to a harsh migraine. In between sleep, I read this book and had some very strange dreams about smelling like pizza, going into a second interview for a bagging position, and having neon colored words scroll through my headhole. It was as if this book played out as a movie in my sleep.
However, I still came to the conclusion today (now that I'm feeling like my 'normal' self) that this book is awesome! I loved the absurd, surreal reality the narrator "person" creates inside his own head. There's not a whole lot of action, but there's this whole weird world created from the persons inner dialogue, observations on the outside world. I also liked the poetic quality of this story as well and would consider reading Sam Pink's poetry in the future.
However, I still came to the conclusion today (now that I'm feeling like my 'normal' self) that this book is awesome! I loved the absurd, surreal reality the narrator "person" creates inside his own head. There's not a whole lot of action, but there's this whole weird world created from the persons inner dialogue, observations on the outside world. I also liked the poetic quality of this story as well and would consider reading Sam Pink's poetry in the future.
May 20, 2025
the word “depressing” scrolls across my headhole in neon letters
July 19, 2012
This was a really weird little book, but it was a hell of a lot of fun to read. It seems like this really strange mix of Tao Lin and Knut Hamsun. I've never read anything quite like it. It is absurd, but most of the absurdity is in the mind of the character and in his reactions to things. It's funny, but self-deprecating as well in a way that goes beyond humor. In the end, I'm not quite sure what it is...but it is good.
July 6, 2019
"The word “yeah” moves through my head in neon letters."
May 2, 2024
I waited for something to happen which never did. Then I remembered that this style of writing was super popular around that time, but only for the hipster illuminati. My memory failed to keep me away from trouble as usual.
April 12, 2025
Me if I was funny
Read
March 23, 2015Person, a review
I wanted to read some shit that kids read.
I don’t know why, for practice, maybe.
I heard about person and bought it.
The word SUCKER scrolls through my head hole.
I don’t know.
The blurb on the book’s page says:
Who is the person? The person is you. The person is me.
No. I beg to differ. I like the sound of that. Other people say that and I like that. So I say it again and again. No. I beg to differ. My dog looks at me like…
When you gonna buy me some dog food.
Anyway, it’s short, and it’s like, lots of little sentences and phrases as the person walks around, sees things, and thinks about them.
But not too much.
Some of the words just... hang there.
This is the kind of book you think is brilliant, or just a hoax.
I paid $4.99 for the Kindle version.
Kindle. Kindling. Light my fire.
That was a song, you know.
Light my fire, light my fire, light my fire.
And I think… hey, maybe I should. I think about setting my apartment building on fire. I can hear the screams as the people jump out the windows.
But I digress.
Wow. Did I just say that? I digress.
I donno. My head hurts.
The character in person is neurotic almost to the point of being catatonic.
The writing is… OKAY. Okay? I don’t’ want to piss off an entire generation. This thing has four stars and it sells like hotcakes. I'm a writer too. Most of my stuff is lucky to get three stars. And the selling sucks. Maybe I no longer know what a story is about. Anyway, person seems just okay to me. I’m old, you see, and I’ve read a lot of books. So what do I know? Oh, you say, Hemingway wrote in little sentences with little words. Yeah, but the persons in his books were the kind that you could turn your back to. The person in person… I don’t know if I’d want to do that. He might bite you, or stick a knife in your back just to see if pink air or blue tidy bowl would come fizzing out. Those are the kind of thoughts person has.
I’m a writer too. Shut up I tell myself. You already said that.
My books are different.
That’s all I’ll say. I don’t want to be flamed.
What do I think about this book?
I don’t know.
Noire for 5th graders or... I better shut up.
I don’t know.
I like the sound of that and say it aloud when no one is around.
I don’t know why.
If Beavis and Butthead somehow managed to have a child,
It would be person.
Anyway, I read the book called person.
I wanted to read some shit that kids read.
I don’t know why, for practice, maybe.
I heard about person and bought it.
The word SUCKER scrolls through my head hole.
I don’t know.
The blurb on the book’s page says:
Who is the person? The person is you. The person is me.
No. I beg to differ. I like the sound of that. Other people say that and I like that. So I say it again and again. No. I beg to differ. My dog looks at me like…
When you gonna buy me some dog food.
Anyway, it’s short, and it’s like, lots of little sentences and phrases as the person walks around, sees things, and thinks about them.
But not too much.
Some of the words just... hang there.
This is the kind of book you think is brilliant, or just a hoax.
I paid $4.99 for the Kindle version.
Kindle. Kindling. Light my fire.
That was a song, you know.
Light my fire, light my fire, light my fire.
And I think… hey, maybe I should. I think about setting my apartment building on fire. I can hear the screams as the people jump out the windows.
But I digress.
Wow. Did I just say that? I digress.
I donno. My head hurts.
The character in person is neurotic almost to the point of being catatonic.
The writing is… OKAY. Okay? I don’t’ want to piss off an entire generation. This thing has four stars and it sells like hotcakes. I'm a writer too. Most of my stuff is lucky to get three stars. And the selling sucks. Maybe I no longer know what a story is about. Anyway, person seems just okay to me. I’m old, you see, and I’ve read a lot of books. So what do I know? Oh, you say, Hemingway wrote in little sentences with little words. Yeah, but the persons in his books were the kind that you could turn your back to. The person in person… I don’t know if I’d want to do that. He might bite you, or stick a knife in your back just to see if pink air or blue tidy bowl would come fizzing out. Those are the kind of thoughts person has.
I’m a writer too. Shut up I tell myself. You already said that.
My books are different.
That’s all I’ll say. I don’t want to be flamed.
What do I think about this book?
I don’t know.
Noire for 5th graders or... I better shut up.
I don’t know.
I like the sound of that and say it aloud when no one is around.
I don’t know why.
If Beavis and Butthead somehow managed to have a child,
It would be person.
Anyway, I read the book called person.
Read
July 28, 2014This book is similar in character to Rontel, and much of what Sam Pink would do in that later work is already on display in some form here. In tone, Person is a little sadder, a little less funny, a little less extreme in its degree of absurdity. It makes use of its own leitmotifs, i.e. elements that are repeated and serve as a sort of a theme, such as the repeated sentences "it feels like practice" and "it's insane," and the tendency to retreat from some of his most extreme or tenuous assertions with "I don't know," or "not really" disavowals.
I didn't agree with the author's decision to present alternate versions of several chapters. I'm not denying the validity of such an approach in a categorical way, but it's not quite the right decision for this work. The sense of doom and poignancy of some events are weakened when we get frequent reminders of the author's arbitrary power to rewrite the story however it pleases him. It's better for us to be stuck in the "reality" of the story with the characters. I say this, although each of the alternate chapters has its own merits, and seeing all of them adds some extra entertainment when looked at individually. But, in fact, the author could just as well have flipped a coin for each chapter that has an alternate, and thus made a random choice of which chapter to include, and it would have improved the effect of the whole.
I think the author's choice of how to approach the end was quite good and correct.
If it's not clear, I do recommend Sam Pink's writing quite strongly. If this were my first exposure to his work, it would be even more impactful, and in any case I'm quite glad I read it. But I'm still partial to Rontel, which is an improved development on what the author started here.
I didn't agree with the author's decision to present alternate versions of several chapters. I'm not denying the validity of such an approach in a categorical way, but it's not quite the right decision for this work. The sense of doom and poignancy of some events are weakened when we get frequent reminders of the author's arbitrary power to rewrite the story however it pleases him. It's better for us to be stuck in the "reality" of the story with the characters. I say this, although each of the alternate chapters has its own merits, and seeing all of them adds some extra entertainment when looked at individually. But, in fact, the author could just as well have flipped a coin for each chapter that has an alternate, and thus made a random choice of which chapter to include, and it would have improved the effect of the whole.
I think the author's choice of how to approach the end was quite good and correct.
If it's not clear, I do recommend Sam Pink's writing quite strongly. If this were my first exposure to his work, it would be even more impactful, and in any case I'm quite glad I read it. But I'm still partial to Rontel, which is an improved development on what the author started here.
December 10, 2010
Sam Pink's new novel, Person, is the greatest book I have ever read where nothing really happens. A person wanders around Chicago, feeling alternately morose and elated. Although the eponymous Person lives in an apartment, I have never read a book that felt more homeless.
The occasional "Other Version" of a chapter (in which something only vaguely dissimilar to the first version happens) emphasizes the feeling of uncertainty.
I believe that Sam Pink has access to some of the most universal human feelings and an uncanny ability to make the reader feel them, too. Engaging and unique prose, supreme command of expression, Sam Pink is a genius.
The occasional "Other Version" of a chapter (in which something only vaguely dissimilar to the first version happens) emphasizes the feeling of uncertainty.
I believe that Sam Pink has access to some of the most universal human feelings and an uncanny ability to make the reader feel them, too. Engaging and unique prose, supreme command of expression, Sam Pink is a genius.
March 11, 2012
If I ever need to remind myself, years down the line, what it was like to be young and emotionally short-circuited in a small apartment in Chicago in the early 2010's, I could read this book again. I thought it was interesting how closely Person resembled my own internal dialogue. Maybe Sam Pink is one of those dudes who has read too much Bukowski, but whatever, I found this book touching and it rang true. It is at least a good artifact of our world-weary, Raskolnikovian zeitgeist.
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March 5, 2012Should I be worried that I could identify with the narrator? No. No way. This book is hilariously thoughtful and is definitely going to be read again.
June 10, 2016
Yo, this is it. This book kills it. Get this book. This book is fucking it.
February 22, 2017
This book is comprised almost solely of dull moments and yet there's not a dull moment in this book.
February 8, 2020
A bit repetitive at times. Enjoyable overall.
July 12, 2023
Reading this felt like practice.
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