Where Is That Novel?

If you want to read about regular people, about real life, about struggle and hardship, about poverty and difficulty, you have to read fictionalized accounts in non-fiction books like Alec MacGillis’s Fulfillment or Jessica Bruder’s Nomadland. The books sell copies and movie rights. They even win Oscars. So why can’t anybody write a novel about the infinitely interesting people who appear in these books? Why are novels filled with mental masturbation of spoiled rich people? Even in the ghost sex novel I read the other day, the 22-year-old main character is living off an inheritance. An inheritance! Have you ever met any people who don’t have to work because they have an inheritance? Me neither.

Where is a novel about a 22-year-old who works at a grocery store and goes to a laundromat? He’s a million times more interesting than some bored rich fuck with an inheritance. Where is a novel about a 26-year-old with six kids by two different fathers? She appears in MacGillis’s book about Amazon. Screw Amazon! This is a life worth immortalizing in a novel.

I subscribe to several lists of fresh releases of fiction. It’s between spoiled rich people and World War I with scary regularity. Where are the writers who can write about anything else? In the non-fiction section, apparently.