At times it's seemed to me that everyone in the world thinks they could write a novel. I don't doubt the truth of it—surely every human being has a tale that's worth telling. But does everyone have the tenacity to get that novel out of their minds and onto the page? More importantly, assuming that the events chronicled in the narrative are somewhat autobiographical in nature, can the experiences that meant—and continue to mean—so much to the author be converted into fiction in a way that's actually fresh and engaging to readers? I'm here to tell you, friend, that with Mean Thoughts Steve Oskie has succeeded in bringing a sharp, insightful novel from the depths of his soul straight onto the page with every nuance intact.
In the grand tradition of texts such as James Joyce's Portrait of the Artist as a Young Man, Oskie's novel follows its protagonist to the crucial turning point in terms of self awareness and artistic development. And like Jack Kerouac's On The Road, Oskie's book tackles the unique dynamic of the friendships that young men have as they set out to push the boundaries of the world around them. Evoking Kerouac is a bit misleading, however, because whereas he prided himself on the spontaneous, freewheeling nature of his prose, Oskie has honed his writing here so that every sentence is in its place and every word is exact and yet still somehow passionately felt. The precision of the prose is remarkable, thanks in large part to Oskie's skillful use of Mark, the acutely self-aware narrator of Mean Thoughts who we follow from smoky bars to quirky part-time jobs as he makes his way through romantic entanglements and evolving friendships. The access that the reader has to Mark's inner workings provides us with a crystal clear, and sometimes painful, view of the narrator's inner turmoil.
Examining the past can be tricky, though, and many a fine author has fallen into the trap of idealizing his or her wayward youth. Oskie sidesteps this temptation; his narrator recounts youthful experiences in a way that avoids an overly sentimental tone while at the same time refraining from interjecting so much adult wisdom into the narrative as to destroy the reader's experience of being in the moment with these 20-somethings as they stumble and sometimes fall along their paths to self discovery.
In a sense, this book recreates a Philadelphia that is already long gone - many of the bars and restaurants mentioned here closed well over a decade ago, and some of the neighborhoods that Mark frequents have since morphed into yuppie outposts or have fallen into utter disrepair. Rather than making the book seem dated, however, its specificity of place and time creates a narrative that is, in many ways, universal. While a portion of the haunts described in Mean Thoughts may've been history by the time I began to prowl around the city myself, I can easily place myself in the moment of this book and envision Mark (who coincidentally looks, in my mind, remarkably like a young Steve Oskie) weaving his way down Locust Street after having a few too many drinks, say, or hailing a cab in front of an all-night diner on South Street. And I think the same will be true for any reader of this book, no matter where you live or in what decade you came of age - surely you, too, will find yourself in these characters' humorous foibles and bittersweet moments of self discovery.
If there is any justice in the world, Mean Thoughts will build a fiercely loyal cult following that will spread its gospel far and wide. (I envision the book with a cult following as opposed to mass-market success, by the way, because it is perhaps too well written and introspective to compete with the fluff that tends to dominate best seller lists.) This is the kind of book you pass on in the heat of a new friendship. "Here," you might say to your new roommate, slapping your own battered copy down on the bar between you, "you've got to read this." I could go on at length about the virtues of Oskie's book, but instead I'd like to get out of the way and let you get on with things. Here. You've got to read this.
Chris McCreary is the author of a book of poems, The Effacements (Singing Horse Press), as well as several chapbooks. His reviews and interviews have been published in the Philadelphia Inquirer, Rain Taxi Review of Books, Review of Contemporary Fiction, XConnect, and elsewhere. Along with his wife, Jenn McCreary, he co-edits ixnay press, a small press dedicated to the publication of experimental writing. Chris holds a masters degree in creative writing from Temple University, where he currently teaches.