Gary Shteyngart

Super Sad True Love Story (Thorndike Press Large Print Reviewers' Choice)

Connie Meade

I noticed that some of the first class people were staring me down for having an open book. "Duder, that thing smells like wet socks." said the young jock next to me, a senior Credit ape at Land0'Lakes- GMFord. I quickly sealed the Chekhov in my carry-on, stowing it far in the overhead bin. As the passengers returned to their flickering displays, I took out my äppärät and began to thump it loudly with my finger to show how much I loved all things digital, while sneaking nervous glances at the throbbing cavern around me, the wine-dulled business travelers lost to their own electronic lives. 

They were inside the first-class cabin. About nine guys wearing grimy camouflage fatigues, in their thirties mostly (too old to serve in Venezuela, I'd guess), sweat stains underneath their arms, water bottles haphazardly stapled to their bulletproof vests, M-16s cradled against their torsos, no smiles, no words… I snuck a glance at the fat man’s tormentors, standing evenly around him, fingers on their triggers. Their uniforms were adorned with hasty insignia, a sword superimposed over Lady Liberty’s crown, which I believe denotes the New York Army National Guard. And yet I sensed these exurban white guys were from nowhere 

I took out my U.S. passport and held it in my hand, fingering its embossed golden eagle, still hoping it meant something. I remember how my parents would talk about the 

 of their having left the Soviet Union for America. Oh God, I thought, let there still be such luck in this new world.

Super Sad True Love Story (Thorndike Press Large Print Reviewers' Choice) quotes

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