You have a few hours left to take advantage of the massive $1 discount to my new book, Why Can’t I Leave A Smiley Face? If you order before midnight, you pay $3 instead of $4. Here’s a reader review:
Roosh has an approach to writing about his life that is at once clinical, self-reflective, funny, critical and–one just does not expect this–philosophical. In his latest, he returns to the country of his birth and ultimately find us wanting; but I’m jumping ahead of myself.
The book is a series of vignettes documenting his return to visit friends and family after years away. Each chapter describes occurrences on this journey and reads very much like an quirky, independent movie so much so you will think you were at your local art house cinema drinking a Belgian lager and watching a cool guy make his unconventional way through life.
As he describes what’s happening, Roosh deadpans his observations like a movie voice-over. He writes with a detachment that is at first startling but ultimately refreshing and makes me think he may be reproducing for us what happened in his mind real-time as it was actually happening.
As you read, you stumble across various pronouncements about the human condition from a man who will, in his lifetime, meet more different people in two years than most ever will in a lifetime. He is frank, quite brutally frank actually, about sex. He is brutally frank also about the female of the species, genus Americanensis. Here, for example, he describes how many men it takes to turn a woman into a ruthless entitlement mare:
“I estimate that it takes ten male partners for a woman to start realizing that she doesn’t “need” a man. Any man who dates her after that will get half-assed relationship efforts and increased entitlement. She knows how easy it is to get [a man] that, though maybe not as good as yours, will validate her nonetheless.”
Since 10 is quite a low number in modern America, if one accepts his assertion it is no leap of the imagination to see where things have gone. And every other story he tells of meeting women in DC seems to bear this out.
Especially funny is the story of the female lawyer who cannot understand the psycho-dynamics of reality and asks–no demands–attention. On his metaphorical feet as usual, Roosh turns ice cold and decides to see just how far he can push the interaction. And like the damaged spirit that she is, unrecognizing, blind, she stumbles unfeeling towards eventual cat-owning obsolescence. No way a normal person could absorb this every weekend and emerge unscathed. Roosh seems to shake his head, clarity prevails: I’m back in the United States.
More than the travails of random encounters with tigresses is Roosh’s interactions with his mother and sister. It seems he’d thought they were supportive of his lifestyle, but something about their XX chromosomes had since taken over and produced arguments against his choices, and it seems to find him taken aback. “In my own house, too?”
What I like most about Roosh’s writing is the philosophical calmness with which he writes, how he describes the process of levelling counter-arguments without emotional outburst especially considering he’s “arguing” with those he loves about a way of life he has come to love. One can be forgiven for thinking it a writer’s low trick, made to show how cool under fire he is, but watch his videos and you can sense this is how he is regardless of the circumstance. It is no leap to connect this person with his writing persona and sense the veracity of it.
Methodically, he rips apart mom’s reasoning so that, by the end, she is making what I feel is the painful demand that either he change or he stop communicating with her. This couldn’t have been an easy thing to write about, but it is invaluable to anyone thinking of hoeing this road. This is what may and likely will happen to you: even your own family will disapprove of your jumping the society-lain train tracks.
Another family story, this time of dad. Seeking perhaps to understand himself further, he meets up with his father over a weekend’s gambling in Atlantic City and coaxes from him the apparent genetic source of Roosh’s “talents,” shall we say. Dad was a “player” back before it became codified, before it became popular. The apple doesn’t fall far from the tree.
Underlying all this and forming a backbone of his new book is the world-weariness: he’s half-expecting something new, please surprise me. Perhaps in the two years I’ve been away, he begs, please be different. But he only finds more of the same and even worse. It is a jungle of the heart and the cougars are winning: you can play with a tame lion, but those claws, those claws, those claws. The title of the book comes from a tryst with a woman who coldly dispatches him from her bed, and in a moment of vulnerability, he leaves a note and discusses with himself how best to convey that a human experience between them has occurred instead of a steel bare transaction: perhaps a smiley face? She never calls back.
And so, as he departs (sister no longer cries at the airport) he comes to the conclusion that America is the land of the barren of soul. He no longer recognizes it and thus leaves its shores, a stranger. I wonder what that means for the men who are left behind. I ponder this question and my soul freezes at its outer edges.
And another review:
I picked it up before bed, thinking I’d read just a small bit of it before crashing out. I was about halfway through and set it down to get some sleep, but then it kept nagging at me so I picked it up again and finished the rest. I say “nagging at me” because it wasn’t like it was the most captivating book in the world, but I felt like it touched me on a real emotional level in a lot of ways (no homo), so I had to put those thoughts at ease by finishing.
Maybe it’s because I’ve struggled with a lot of the same emotions and challenges Roosh talks about over my last year of being home in the states. In fact, I think a lot of the issues touched on are things that have been in my mind over the past couple weeks.
I also found my spirits lifted in some of the brighter moments, even smiling a little; Roosh has a great ability for getting readers involved in his story. I especially appreciated how his camaraderie with the other forum members seemed to balance him. Makes me want to meet more like-minded guys.
On another note, I’ve noticed that in a lot of Roosh’s more recent writings, he seems to float back and forth between wanting to settle in a little bit, maybe even questioning his beliefs about women, and just embracing the momentum he’s already built in his life. I think this is something a lot of us struggle with. He doesn’t overdo it or give the red pill back; he just acknowledges its presence.
To be perfectly honest, I felt like some of the play-by-play in the nightclub chapters was a little too drawn out and that some of the “angry” banter Roosh had with women seemed pretty trivial in nature. Then again, I think a lot of the guys who read the PUA stuff enjoy this play-by-play type writing, so I’d say it fits that side of the audience. And while the personality revealed in some of these interactions may have rubbed me a bit wrong, one of my favorite aspects of any Roosh writing is the way he lays it all out there to be seen, warts and all.
He doesn’t sugarcoat something just because it might put himself in an awkward or less than favorable light. I always respect this type of honesty in a writer, and revealing the true subtleties of human nature makes for a more interesting, believable read and commentary on the lifestyle we’ve chosen.
In conclusion, I liked this homecoming story and will probably give it another go. Coming home to suddenly feel like an outsider can sometimes wear on you and leave you wondering if perhaps it’s you that has become flawed. Just knowing others experience the exact same thing is reassuring and offers a reminder that we aren’t all born into a place that’s right for us.
For some of us, there’s just no going back once we’ve embraced the international lifestyle (much like taking a red pill of any other hue). It’s a scary, somewhat alienating feeling, but you just have to keep searching for whatever it is you’re looking for. Even if it never reveals itself, sitting home probably wouldn’t have made you any happier, and at least you reach the end-game knowing you gave it a shot, which is far more than most people can say.
I hope you find what you’re looking for, Roosh. Thanks for another good read.
If this book interests you, click one of the following links:
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I’m also offering two combo deals that last until midnight tonight. In the first, you get all three of my memoirs for $8. The download package contains pdf, mobi, and epub formats for each book, 433 pages in total…
The Life’s Work combo has all 15 of my books (1,484 pages), including Bang and Day Bang, my two popular game books. It also contains the Bang audiobook in mp3 format. The price is $35:
Click here to order the My Life’s Work Combo (256 megabyte download).
Your thoughts on Smiley Face so far are encouraging me to tackle a longer memoir in the future.