This book is made 100% of man tears. It turns out no matter how aware a man is of racial inequalities and oppression, it doesn't mean he's a decent human being who can see women as more than a piece of meat.

Women are objects in this book. It's disgusting and misogynistic, and the author never calls it out in the story. The entire book, the main character, Yunior, laments how his relationships continue to fail - all while he's cheating on every single girlfriend (not a spoiler - it's how it starts, it's how it ends - it's a given). Yunior calls all the women he sleeps with "sucias" (dirty sluts) - yet he's the one who's cheating (with more than 50 women at one point, seriously). And he gets even angrier when he's not getting laid by one of them. If the author had pointed out this super obvious double-standard and actually done something with it, I would have appreciated that at the bare minimum...

Instead, the author entertained the most boring, most pathetic typical male narrative of our time: a cheating dirtbag who can't treat a woman with the most basic human decency and is depressed because he's left alone. Because he's scum. Give me a break. Cry me a river of your man tears. I have no sympathy for this anti-woman narrative we're already bombarded with every day in the real world. I had really high hopes, but it turns out that a Pulitzer can't cure a douchebag.

It's okay. Diaz's prose is captivating, and I like that he broaches subjects others are loath to touch (racism, cheating, sexual encounters with minors, immigrant status), but to me it's not the kind of book you walk away from feeling sad that you finished it (or happy), and it's not anything you learn a lot from. It is, though, a window into the lives of poorer Dominican immigrants and their acculturation to (northeastern) American society. Since I liked that part, I definitely had mixed feelings about this book, but it certainly is a quick read.

Baby, you say, baby, this is part of my novel. This is how you lose her.

I love Diaz's writing style and characters. Quick, wonderful read

This is more of the same from Junot Diaz - more men who love to fight, love, and cheat. In Drown, his was a new voice; in Oscar Wao, Diaz created a new character, but in this collection I lost interest - wised up, perhaps - and the charms of his characters were no longer amusing, just immature, self-centered, and the same old game, again.

It would be nice to see a positive image of a Latin male, but Diaz gives us what we expect - men whom women can never trust.

Super quick read. Written well. But not exactly what I expected.

After forcing myself to finish a turgid "classic," where I felt as though I was pulling myself through it by my own hair, it was refreshing to nestle down into This is How You Lose Her's brisk, picturesque and lyrical prose.

The story is about a man's struggle with intimacy with family, and lovers. Although this has a male protagonist and the majority of the female characters are here as love interests, they are no less fascinating and complex for being side stories. To my mind Junot Díaz is the best contemporary male novelist I have ever read on the strength of his writing of plausible female characters. These women were believable in a way I usually do not find in, the much lauded, contemporary American novels.

Junot Díaz's spare writing is a pinch Hemingway, a dab of Morrison's poetic, with a wicked and matter-of-fact humour, like a liberal dash of tabasco. I was warmed to the center of my Latin soul.

I have wanted to read Junot Díaz for years just because he is a mesmerizing speaker and this book did not disappoint me. He seamlessly incorporates his own personal sparkle into his work.

"This Is How You Lose Her" on its faces may seem crude and chauvinistic in that every male character in every story seems to have a problem with infidelity. If one reads deeper into each story, there is something going on with these characters that they can't handle which causes their womanizing ways. Dealing with a troubled family member who has cancer, an absentee father, and even societal prejudices, both interracial and intraracial. I don't know if labeling the male characters as "jerks" or "louses" because of their actions and attitudes tell the whole story for their behavior. Diaz has written a series of interrelated stories that brings about the question of masculinity from the POC point of view.

I devoured this book.

This is How You Lose Her is a collection of... vignettes, really. It reminds me of a rougher version of the stories I love so much from Jhumpa Lahiri. Junot Diaz, the author, writes in a vulgar, raw, and disrespectful way. He describes Yunior, the central character, throughout various stages of his life. Mostly, Yunior is a jerk: he cheats, he is a bit racist, he is a womanizer, and (in general) a man with a bit too much "machismo". I didn't like this book because I found Yunior an admirable person, that's for sure.

What I love so much (my heart is racing a bit here) is that Diaz creates "people". Several times, I felt like I was reading about a real man and his experiences in love, no matter how different they are from my own. When Diaz writes about arguments between lovers, for example, he writes in such a unique way that I find myself feeling like maybe that "person" and I share something; like we were connecting somehow. Remembering when a partner was unfaithful, in one instance - the stupid things you feel, the emotions you go through, the things you begin to believe about yourself; the intensity and desperation of these moments. Many times, Diaz simply understands these feelings that span across all cultures and socioeconomic groups.

In general, I enjoy books that explore the deepest corners of human emotion: very happy, very sad, very lonely, etc. I like how creative Diaz is in describing these interactions - this was a simple read, but each simple sentence held a lot of visual and emotional meaning.

So good. I'm a fan.