Jay McInerney's Final Novel Fails to Recapture Early Literary Brilliance
More than four decades ago, Jay McInerney burst onto the literary scene with his debut novel, Bright Lights, Big City, a work that masterfully captured the glittering allure and underlying despair of 1980s New York. The book's phenomenal success catapulted McInerney to fame, drawing flattering comparisons to F. Scott Fitzgerald, another writer from the Midwest who grappled with America's complex dreams of wealth and social ascent.
A Series Concludes with Diminished Returns
In 1992, McInerney introduced readers to a new ensemble of young New Yorkers in Brightness Falls, focusing primarily on the central couple, Corrine and Russell. He revisited these characters in two subsequent novels, and now, See You on the Other Side marks the completion of this tetralogy. The novel opens at the dawn of 2020, with the once-vibrant young protagonists now navigating their 60s, contending with issues like erectile dysfunction, marital strife, and anxieties over their adult children's career prospects.
Beyond the universal challenges of aging, Corrine and Russell must also face the unprecedented events of that tumultuous year, including the global pandemic, widespread protests for racial justice, and a fiercely contested presidential election. While Russell serves as the primary character, the narrative occasionally shifts to Corrine, their daughter Storey—an aspiring chef—and her biracial boyfriend, Mingus, offering fragmented glimpses into their lives.
Superficial Plotting and Clumsy Prose Undermine the Narrative
At its most engaging, See You on the Other Side provides the casual, undemanding companionship typical of commercial fiction. Readers are left to ponder whether Russell will succumb to the allure of Astrid, a young literary talent, if Storey's restaurant can survive pandemic restrictions, and if the aging couple's immune systems will withstand the virus. However, these plotlines feel trivial when measured against the real-world sufferings many endured during the same period.
A more significant flaw lies in McInerney's apparent discomfort with producing a potboiler, as he intermittently references more tortured and ambitious writers, such as the character Jeff Pierce from Brightness Falls. This creates a jarring contrast with the novel's overall tone. Russell, a successful fiction editor, would likely have critiqued the manuscript's weaknesses, including clunky dialogue and repetitive prose. For instance, lines like "He felt a stirring in his loins, an engorgement of his cock" and excessive descriptions of cocaine's role in his youth highlight the author's verbosity.
Imbalanced Focus on Lifestyle Over Inner Lives
The novel's verbosity is oddly paired with underwritten sections, where critical moments—such as a violent suicide or a drug overdose at Thanksgiving—are glossed over in favor of lengthy discourses on wine, food, restaurants, and real estate. These passages often read like lifted magazine reviews, detracting from character development. For example, McInerney spends more time detailing a disappointing fine wine than exploring the emotional fallout of a character's death.
This perfunctory treatment of pivotal scenes suggests the author's primary interest lies in showcasing his insider knowledge of New York's elite lifestyle rather than delving into his characters' psyches. A brief, intriguing glimpse of Russell's midwestern roots and impostor syndrome, prompted by his brother Aidan's visit, is quickly overshadowed by the novel's materialistic focus.
Fitzgerald Comparisons Now Ring Hollow
The early parallels between McInerney and Fitzgerald have grown increasingly untenable. Fitzgerald wrote with meticulous precision and a tragic vision that challenged his era's dominant values. In contrast, McInerney's prose is often loose and absurd, fully embracing the materialism of his surroundings. Reading See You on the Other Side is akin to viewing the world of Gatsby through the eyes of Tom Buchanan—a perspective clear-eyed about possessions and real estate but indifferent to internal lives or the costs of privilege.
Ultimately, this finale to McInerney's New York series feels like a missed opportunity, more concerned with lifestyle details than the profound human experiences it ostensibly aims to portray.
