Reviewed in this essay:
Darryl - Jackie Ess (Clash Books, 2021)
I read Jackie Ess’ new book Darryl recently and, like a cliche, I couldn’t put it down. I started reading it at about seven AM and before I knew what was happening, it was afternoon and the book was over, and I felt like crying a little. It was a damn good read.
It follows Darryl, a guy who lives off an inheritance and likes watching his wife fuck other men. He’s a cuck, as they put it, and he’s strangely proud of it. There’s a bit where he talks about coming out as one to his mom, and it’s funny and kind of cringe, but in a good way. Which is about how I’d sum up this novel: Darryl is a guy who stumbles around, searching for answers, and he doesn’t always like what he finds but he’s plucky and keeps on searching all the same.
Ess takes readers into the darker corners of the web where people play for keeps and occasionally die, and eventually, Darryl faces the darkness himself. It’s hard not to ask sometimes if it’s a GHB dream, and to ask if he’s scared of finding himself in this darkness… but there’s always Ess’ sense of humour and compassion, and her skillful writing keeps the book grounded.
Darryl’s an internet novel, in the same way that Patricia Lockwood’s new book No One Is Talking About This is, and it’s written in a similarly breezy, casual way about the trouble and mess the internet can bring to people’s lives. Darryl is writing a blog, or just keeping people updated on his comings and cummings, and the people he runs across. The demonic shrink Clive, the tarot-reading Sartori, and Bill, a guy who likes fucking Darryl’s wife and becomes something more than a friend.
But he’s plugged in online, talking about his message board pals, people calling each other “cucks” on the internet, and investigates people like a sleuth. He’s a smart, interesting guy who knows a little about poetry, opera and has opinions on the Golden State Warriors. As Torrey Peters’ blurb puts it, he’s a seeker. And in him, we find some answers, particularly to the statement posed one time by Vonnegut: we are who we pretend to be.
For example, about halfway through the book, Darryl has a moment where he talks about crossdressing:
“The idea of crossdressing is so fucked up, man, like what do actual women wear? Not big frilly dresses. Not big frilly dresses. T-Shirts and jeans, yoga pants, fast fashion bullshit. So what’s crossdressing? That’s what I already wear. It’s just an attitude.” (Pg 88).
In little bits like this, Darryl resonated with me. Back a few years ago, when I was trying to get my shit together, I wrote about Grimes and her “vibing in a gender-neutral zone” and asked what women’s clothing is but just a different fitting shirt. A few years later, I’m wearing that shirt and taking seven pills a day and have a different legal name. I’m not saying Darryl is a trans narrative or anything, but I am saying I saw myself reflected at times in this book and it’s stuck with me.
There’s other ways I saw myself here. I too spent a lot of time on the internet looking for answers to questions; unlike him, I never had the time or social skills to like meet up with people off-line, and my journey took a longer, maybe less weird route through stuff like Fictionpress, Tumblr blogs and eventually, a zine Ess edited a few years back which influenced me enough I followed all the writers from it on twitter. It’s weird seeing someone ask themselves similar questions as one asked oneself back in the day, but it’s refreshing, interesting and kind of messy. And maybe that’s a better way to look at this.
A more serious review might ask how Darryl examines stuff like masculinity in the 21st century, and maybe someone will write that review. I’m just here, at 9:30am on my day off, on coffee number four, trying to sort my thoughts about this book into something coherent. Something more than “Hey, I really liked this book and I think it’ll win a Lammy.” But I’m willing to bet it will.
Throughout Darryl, I found myself glued to the action. It’s told in a simple way, with down-to-earth prose, and although the story takes on an otherworldly quality - like how I imagine Twin Peaks is, although I’ve only seen bits and pieces - with murders and sex and death and a town with hidden secrets, it always comes across like Darryl is telling you story, maybe over a beer and maybe while you’re watching the big game, not because either of you really care about sports, but because he’s feels like he’s supposed to, and maybe you do too.
I feel sometimes that Peters writes what I’d call messy fiction, in that her characters are fully shaped and involved in tangled, frayed relationships, as compared to someone like Casey Plett, who’s people feel heartbreakingly real, but have a comparatively cleaner life. I’m thinking of, say, The Masker, a story about two people in Vegas (I think - it’s been a minute since I read it) who are involved in the sexual underground, in a relationship with dark edges of sex and violence. I think Darryl lives in a similar universe. It’s messy and the people are complicated. They get mixed up in things that threaten to sweep them away, with people who are dangerous to know, and sex with strangers who smack people around.
But gosh, I wish I could write like this, even if I’d never want to live in this world.
All in all, it’s a stunning debut novel, a compelling story about a seeker who gets more than he reckoned for when he started asking his wife to fuck other men while he watched. It’s equally moving and funny, and like I said up top, I literally read this book in one marathon stretch. It’s not out for a few weeks, but you can pre-order it via Clash Books. I’d recommend you do.