The Week, “19 Books to Read in 2020
“In this insightful work of narrative nonfiction, journalist Diamond (Searching for John Hughes) draws from personal experience, history, and media to consider the significance of the suburbs in American culture. . . . his cultural criticism is consistently astute. This is a smart, enjoyable study that will be particularly appreciated by other suburban expats.” —Publishers Weekly
“As the narrative progresses, the author becomes increasingly eloquent about such things as pop music. . . . literature as written by the likes of Dave Eggers and Jonathan Lethem, and film such as, yes, John Hughes’ oeuvre and Sofia Coppola’s interpretation of The Virgin Suicides. . . . A literate meditation on clipped-lawn places easily taken for granted but that well deserve such reflection.” —Kirkus
“Despite the many stereotypes about the conformity of the suburbs, Chicago-area native Jason Diamond sees these borderland communities as the ‘incubator for distinctly American art’ . . . The Sprawl is precisely within Diamond's personal wheelhouse.” —The Week
”For those of us who grew up outside of the suburbs, or encased by suburbs, there may have been a longing to understand their interior. The Sprawl is such a generous book for how it both acknowledges the privileges of boundary but also demystifies the small living moments that take place within. This is a warm and thoughtful book that doesn’t just coast on beauty and nostalgia without challenging both.” —Hanif Abdurraqib
“Thoughtful, well-researched, and beautifully rendered, The Sprawl is a book that offers us insight into the suburban spaces that define America. Throughout each chapter, Diamond manages to be both generous and unsparing, funny and deeply thorough, in his analysis of the parking lots, privilege, and prejudice that infuse the America of our childhoods. The Sprawl is a necessary cultural analysis for understanding who we are as a nation and what we will become.” —Lyz Lenz
“Jason Diamond instinctively understands how the American suburb has shaped the American psyche, somehow both softening and igniting it—he sees the depravity and ennui that Cheever immortalized, but also the odd beauty of mowed lawns and food courts and paved driveways. A child of the suburbs myself, I devoured this smart, probing, and deeply human meditation on what it means to be promised comfort, and what it feels like to tear yourself apart trying to escape it.” —Amanda Petrusich
“Tells a heartbreaking story of restless youth, imposter syndrome, and the movies that help him make sense of it all. . . . Makes me want to tell my parents and children how much I love them . . . and then curl up on the couch and watch The Breakfast Club.” —Emma Straub, author of the New York Times bestsellers Modern Lovers and The Vacationers
“With geniality, humor and charm, Diamond explores the ways in which cinematic fantasy can influence, overshadow, and help us to escape reality. This book is for anyone playing out an eternal adolescence.” —Melissa Broder, author of So Sad Today
“Jason Diamond writes with equal parts wit and candor about what happens when life diverges wildly from the suburban fairy tales made popular by John Hughes. Diamond passionately conveys how lovely it is when we find less cinematic but harder earned happy endings on our own terms.” —Maris Kreizman, author of Slaughterhouse 90210
“Oh look, it’s all my favorite things in one book: Chicago, New York City, punk rock, food, and existential crises...Bittersweet, charming and hilarious...details the longing and struggle of an aspiring writer with clarity, wit, and heart.” —Jami Attenberg, New York Times best-selling author of The Middlesteins and Saint Mazie
“Both funny and heartbreaking, Diamond’s memoir is not just an account of how one director’s films impacted-and perhaps saved-his life. It is also a memorable reflection on what it means to let go of the past and grow up. A quirkily intelligent memoir of finding oneself in movies.” — Kirkus
2020-04-27
A scion of the suburbs considers how housing shapes destiny.
Suburbia was a largely postwar phenomenon, born of the need to provide homes for returning veterans eager to start families and trading on a long-standing dream that was hitherto reserved only for the rich—namely, “a place outside the city.” This dream was initially reserved, too, for a special class of people: whites for whom low-cost, low-interest loans were readily available courtesy of the Federal Housing Administration. That has changed, writes Diamond, who wrote of suburban life in his 2016 book Searching for John Hughes. Now there are suburbs made up of people of diverse ethnicities, albeit usually segregated. More than half of Americans live in suburbs, a fact that may surprise young city dwellers; if the countryside is ever emptier, the rings of settlements outside the cores of places such as Chicago, New York, and Los Angeles continue to grow. Diamond is interested in demographics but not exclusively. As the narrative progresses, the author becomes increasingly eloquent about such things as pop music—for much pop is driven by suburbanites, who share a “belief that you’re doing something bigger than the place you’re from”—literature as written by the likes of Dave Eggers and Jonathan Lethem, and film such as, yes, John Hughes’ oeuvre and Sofia Coppola’s interpretation of The Virgin Suicides. Clearly, Diamond has given a lot of thought to the “faux-pastoral” nature of the suburbs and their tendency to resist the formation of true communities. If the cultural aspects of his narrative tend to be a touch repetitive, the point is well taken, as is his thought that now-dying shopping malls across North America (cue Arcade Fire) might well be converted to community centers, “making the ones that remain into places that serve a greater purpose.”
A literate meditation on clipped-lawn places easily taken for granted but that well deserve such reflection.
