What do you think?
Rate this book
Flesh
From Booker Prize finalist David Szalay, a propulsive, hypnotic novel, about a man whose future is derailed by a series of events that he is unable to control.
Teenaged István lives with his mother in a quiet apartment complex in Hungary. Shy and new in town, he is a stranger to the social rituals practiced by his classmates and soon becomes isolated, with his neighbor—a married woman close to his mother’s age, whom he begrudgingly helps with errands—as his only companion. But as these periodical encounters shift into a clandestine relationship that István himself can barely understand, his life soon spirals out of control, ending in a violent accident that leaves a man dead.
What follows is a rocky trajectory that sees István emigrate from Hungary to London, where he moves from job to job before finding steady work as a driver for London’s billionaire class. At each juncture, his life is affected by the goodwill or self-interest of strangers. Through it all, István is a calm, detached observer of his own life, and through his eyes we experience a tragic twist on an immigrant “success story,� brightened by moments of sensitivity, softness, and Szalay’s keen observation.
Fast-paced and immersive, Flesh reveals István’s life through intimate moments, with lovers, employers, and family members, charted over the course of decades. As the story unfolds, the tension between what is seen and unseen, what can and cannot be said, hurtles forward until finally—with everything at stake—sudden tragedy again throws life as István knows it in jeopardy. Spare and penetrating, Flesh traces the imperceptible but indelible contours of unresolved trauma and its aftermath amid the precarity and violence of an ever-globalizing Europe with incisive insight, unyielding pathos, and startling humanity.
Teenaged István lives with his mother in a quiet apartment complex in Hungary. Shy and new in town, he is a stranger to the social rituals practiced by his classmates and soon becomes isolated, with his neighbor—a married woman close to his mother’s age, whom he begrudgingly helps with errands—as his only companion. But as these periodical encounters shift into a clandestine relationship that István himself can barely understand, his life soon spirals out of control, ending in a violent accident that leaves a man dead.
What follows is a rocky trajectory that sees István emigrate from Hungary to London, where he moves from job to job before finding steady work as a driver for London’s billionaire class. At each juncture, his life is affected by the goodwill or self-interest of strangers. Through it all, István is a calm, detached observer of his own life, and through his eyes we experience a tragic twist on an immigrant “success story,� brightened by moments of sensitivity, softness, and Szalay’s keen observation.
Fast-paced and immersive, Flesh reveals István’s life through intimate moments, with lovers, employers, and family members, charted over the course of decades. As the story unfolds, the tension between what is seen and unseen, what can and cannot be said, hurtles forward until finally—with everything at stake—sudden tragedy again throws life as István knows it in jeopardy. Spare and penetrating, Flesh traces the imperceptible but indelible contours of unresolved trauma and its aftermath amid the precarity and violence of an ever-globalizing Europe with incisive insight, unyielding pathos, and startling humanity.
368 pages, Hardcover
First published March 6, 2025
181 people are currently reading
15k people want to read
About the author
David Szalay
14books431followersDavid Szalay (born 1974 in Montreal, Quebec) is an English writer.
He was born in Canada, moved to the UK the following year and has lived there ever since. He studied at Oxford University and has written a number of radio dramas for the BBC.
He won the Betty Trask Award for his first novel, London and the South-East, along with the Geoffrey Faber Memorial Prize. Since then he has written two other novels: Innocent (2009) and Spring (2011).
He has also recently been named one of The Telegraph's Top 20 British Writers Under 40 and has also made it onto Granta magazine's 2013 list of the Best of Young British Novelists.
A fourth novel All That Man Is was longlisted for The Man Booker Prize 2016.
He was born in Canada, moved to the UK the following year and has lived there ever since. He studied at Oxford University and has written a number of radio dramas for the BBC.
He won the Betty Trask Award for his first novel, London and the South-East, along with the Geoffrey Faber Memorial Prize. Since then he has written two other novels: Innocent (2009) and Spring (2011).
He has also recently been named one of The Telegraph's Top 20 British Writers Under 40 and has also made it onto Granta magazine's 2013 list of the Best of Young British Novelists.
A fourth novel All That Man Is was longlisted for The Man Booker Prize 2016.
Ratings & Reviews
Friends & Following
Create a free account to discover what your friends think of this book!
Community Reviews
Displaying 1 - 30 of 125 reviews
November 20, 2024
Anyone who has ever attended an introductory writing class has heard all the “rules�: active voice is far better than passive voice. Steer clear of banal dialogue. Keep the emphasis on the character’s thoughts. Make sure your characters are “relatable.�
David Szalay breaks all the rules and thank god for that! The result is a hypnotic and immersive novel that grabbed my attention from page one and kept it until the very last page.
From the start, Hungarian teenager Istvan doesn’t act but is acted upon. Our first encounter with him is when he begrudgingly agrees to help a very old (42) married neighbor with errands, and she purposefully seduces him -- stirring up confusing feelings. Soon afterward, a Big Bad Thing happens, with reverberations that echo through Istvan’s life.
We never are privy to what Istvan really thinks about the Big Bad Thing, or anything else, for that matter. Most of the time, his answers to any attempt to find out who he is are staccato-like. Here is a typical example: when a wealthy woman questions him about what it was like being in the army, he tries to figure out what she wants him to say. He ends up with a simple, “It was okay.�
She answers: “What do you mean okay? What does that actually mean? When you say it was okay, you’re not actually saying anything, are you?� She follows up by accusing Istvan of being evasive, and he does not convincingly deny it.
Despite himself, Istvan leads what some might consider a charmed life. Each chapter prods readers further into his future in London, as Istvan eventually comes to the attention of a very wealthy advocate. Soon, he is a driver for London’s billionaire class. Yet Istvan never truly aspires to what unfolds. He remains detached, accepting what is granted to him, never celebrating his good fortune but rather simply accepting it. He appears to want and expect nothing from life and, while frozen emotionally, his essential nature and his humanity peep out at certain intimate moments.
It spurred emotions in me, though, and I totally loved this book. I owe a deep thanks to Scribner and NetGalley for enabling me to be an early reader in exchange for an honest review.
David Szalay breaks all the rules and thank god for that! The result is a hypnotic and immersive novel that grabbed my attention from page one and kept it until the very last page.
From the start, Hungarian teenager Istvan doesn’t act but is acted upon. Our first encounter with him is when he begrudgingly agrees to help a very old (42) married neighbor with errands, and she purposefully seduces him -- stirring up confusing feelings. Soon afterward, a Big Bad Thing happens, with reverberations that echo through Istvan’s life.
We never are privy to what Istvan really thinks about the Big Bad Thing, or anything else, for that matter. Most of the time, his answers to any attempt to find out who he is are staccato-like. Here is a typical example: when a wealthy woman questions him about what it was like being in the army, he tries to figure out what she wants him to say. He ends up with a simple, “It was okay.�
She answers: “What do you mean okay? What does that actually mean? When you say it was okay, you’re not actually saying anything, are you?� She follows up by accusing Istvan of being evasive, and he does not convincingly deny it.
Despite himself, Istvan leads what some might consider a charmed life. Each chapter prods readers further into his future in London, as Istvan eventually comes to the attention of a very wealthy advocate. Soon, he is a driver for London’s billionaire class. Yet Istvan never truly aspires to what unfolds. He remains detached, accepting what is granted to him, never celebrating his good fortune but rather simply accepting it. He appears to want and expect nothing from life and, while frozen emotionally, his essential nature and his humanity peep out at certain intimate moments.
It spurred emotions in me, though, and I totally loved this book. I owe a deep thanks to Scribner and NetGalley for enabling me to be an early reader in exchange for an honest review.
April 15, 2025
Szalay’s Flesh follows István, a guy who climbs from a Hungarian housing project to London’s moneyed circles, but his rise feels less like a success story and more like a chess game where he keeps moving pieces but never wins.
The messy details are brilliant: saving a bleeding stranger in an alley, only to later share a meal with the same guy, who shrugs off the violence like it’s no big deal. Then there’s his affair with Helen, whose husband’s infertility becomes this weird metaphor for legacy—“It didn’t work”—while her Dutch-raised daughter, Noémi, shows up via Facebook, like globalization’s awkward family reunion.
Szalay nails the small, strange moments. The cringy and steamy opening describing first sexual experiences is unforgettable. The oddness just keeps on rolling from that point. Take, for instance, István’s therapy sessions, where he talks about army trauma (“It’s not just sound. It’s pressure�), or his odd rapport with Jacob, a kid who hates his milk but swaps soldier stories like they’re casual gossip. There’s Mervyn’s bizarre demand that István wear a suit daily to “look qualified,� which feels like a punchline about how capitalism turns people into walking résumés. And Karl, Helen’s ex, giving a Monet sketch? Class divides don’t get much starker than that.
The writing is stripped-down, like Hemingway without the manliness—a “fatty simplicity� that lets lines like “Don’t eat so fast� carry hidden weight. Szalay doesn’t sugarcoat István’s climb; those £80 million loans? They’re just another Monopoly game with real lives on the line. The book’s vibe? Imagine Succession with minimal dialogue and more existential dread. It’s Europe’s identity crisis in a boardroom: who’s the boss, who’s the underling, and does anyone even care?
István’s sauna scene—skin bare, secrets intact—is a punch to the gut. Is he a hero? A fraud? The book doesn’t care. It just leaves you staring at the question. I’m still not sure if I should root for this guy.
The messy details are brilliant: saving a bleeding stranger in an alley, only to later share a meal with the same guy, who shrugs off the violence like it’s no big deal. Then there’s his affair with Helen, whose husband’s infertility becomes this weird metaphor for legacy—“It didn’t work”—while her Dutch-raised daughter, Noémi, shows up via Facebook, like globalization’s awkward family reunion.
Szalay nails the small, strange moments. The cringy and steamy opening describing first sexual experiences is unforgettable. The oddness just keeps on rolling from that point. Take, for instance, István’s therapy sessions, where he talks about army trauma (“It’s not just sound. It’s pressure�), or his odd rapport with Jacob, a kid who hates his milk but swaps soldier stories like they’re casual gossip. There’s Mervyn’s bizarre demand that István wear a suit daily to “look qualified,� which feels like a punchline about how capitalism turns people into walking résumés. And Karl, Helen’s ex, giving a Monet sketch? Class divides don’t get much starker than that.
The writing is stripped-down, like Hemingway without the manliness—a “fatty simplicity� that lets lines like “Don’t eat so fast� carry hidden weight. Szalay doesn’t sugarcoat István’s climb; those £80 million loans? They’re just another Monopoly game with real lives on the line. The book’s vibe? Imagine Succession with minimal dialogue and more existential dread. It’s Europe’s identity crisis in a boardroom: who’s the boss, who’s the underling, and does anyone even care?
István’s sauna scene—skin bare, secrets intact—is a punch to the gut. Is he a hero? A fraud? The book doesn’t care. It just leaves you staring at the question. I’m still not sure if I should root for this guy.
March 17, 2025
Flesh is a curious read.- stark - direct - but pulls you in
Following the life of 15 year old István - a lonely boy living with his mother in a Hungarian town- the story follows his first troubled steps into adulthood. He finds himself in a relationship with am older married woman which confuses and troubles him until it leads to an action that alters the course of his future.
Life eventually takes him to the world of the rich in London during the noughties and into the 2010's and the pandemic.
Each chapter follows a significant next step in his life's trajectory: highlighting the excesses of living in a bubble of wealth- the turbulent and mixed relationships within this world - his employers; future wife; stepson and his own child.
After the first chapter, there was a feeling of being unsettled by the content and wondering how much despair and hardship could be endured but once István's journey arrives in London the story hooks as to how he will survive an unknown city that seems to offer itself to all
In some senses this feels like a morality tale - a fable about the desire to have more; improve your world and maintaining the facade and how it can all crumble in an instant.
David Szalay's writing is sparse, poignant , dark and in some senses brutal- the exploration of sexuality and the rawness of finding who you are is unsettling-..ultimately revealing the damage that early events can have on the older self. Empathy with István swings from event to event. What will become of him ? How will he survive the rollercoaster of living he joins?
This novel reflects the world today - the ideal of money, success and prosperity equating to success and the fallacy of it all.
A powerful and provocative read.
Following the life of 15 year old István - a lonely boy living with his mother in a Hungarian town- the story follows his first troubled steps into adulthood. He finds himself in a relationship with am older married woman which confuses and troubles him until it leads to an action that alters the course of his future.
Life eventually takes him to the world of the rich in London during the noughties and into the 2010's and the pandemic.
Each chapter follows a significant next step in his life's trajectory: highlighting the excesses of living in a bubble of wealth- the turbulent and mixed relationships within this world - his employers; future wife; stepson and his own child.
After the first chapter, there was a feeling of being unsettled by the content and wondering how much despair and hardship could be endured but once István's journey arrives in London the story hooks as to how he will survive an unknown city that seems to offer itself to all
In some senses this feels like a morality tale - a fable about the desire to have more; improve your world and maintaining the facade and how it can all crumble in an instant.
David Szalay's writing is sparse, poignant , dark and in some senses brutal- the exploration of sexuality and the rawness of finding who you are is unsettling-..ultimately revealing the damage that early events can have on the older self. Empathy with István swings from event to event. What will become of him ? How will he survive the rollercoaster of living he joins?
This novel reflects the world today - the ideal of money, success and prosperity equating to success and the fallacy of it all.
A powerful and provocative read.
March 2, 2025
� 2.75 stars �
�
ċ� � � � � � � � � � � � � There was no better way to encapsulate what I was feeling as Szalay's prose neared the end. It reverberated within for the gradual and yet subtle way the narrative shifted towards one of just -- emptiness. For there's no point denying how deeply uncomfortable the opening act was.� 😑 To see a sexual dalliance spring up between a fifteen-year-old boy and a forty-two-year-old married woman is enough to make the stomach churn. 🙅🏻♀� Even if it offers a form of respite from the detached way István� views his life with his mother in Hungary, it sets the precursor of events that would forever be the scale to which his life would measure - an unspeakable and immovable presence of misplaced guilt and I believe, trauma, that made his apathy towards his own emotions seem so apart from everything else.� 😟
� “As long as no one knows about it, it’s like it isn’t really happening.� It’s like it exists in the same way that his fantasies exist, as something� he’s just imagining.
That’s how it seems to him sometimes.”�
� � � � � � � � � � � � ċR徱Բ Flesh was a baffling sensation; that in there was nothing grandiose or grand about the writing. István is a lukewarm run-of-the-mill kind of character who seems to have the misfortune of attracting older married women, who sees himself distant and apathetic, if not indifferent to all that is happening around him, simply that he is just there. Almost as if he simply wishes to avoid difficulties and problems - 'it’s just very painful to think about.' 😮💨� And perhaps that's why he never really places much emphasis on himself - to be used or humbled, without struggle or inspiration, he just exists. In that context, it's hard to care for or even be concerned for him. But, you follow his journey - you see the path he's on - the characters he encounters. You know it's wrong - someone or something is going to be hurt, but you can't look away. You can't quite understand why he's behaving the way he is - why he's not struggling on his own merit, why is it possible that he hasn't shed a past pain that seems to have closed him off from feeling - caring?� 😥
� � � � � � � � � � � � � I always thought that I had read my fair share of questionable descriptions of physical intimacy, but there were certain variations here that were definitely new, if not questionably squeamish to me. 🤨 But, it's that bluntness and straightforwardness of that honest depiction perhaps that echoes István� 's nature� is of a slightly withdrawn and detached feeling, but still fiercely immersive character study of this person who made a mistake and then perhaps, because of it - never grew up. Never escaped that feeling of incompletion that resorted him to allow himself be used and just disregarded, or simply never strive to be something more for himself - a matter of significance, rather than making it feel vague and insubstantial as a half-forgotten dream.� ❤️�
� “He realizes that the things that are so important to him—the things that happened, and that he saw there, the things that left him feeling that nothing would ever be the same again—they just aren’t important here.
Those things have no reality here.
That’s what it feels like.”�
� � � � � � � � � � � � � And what hurts me more. Is that I teared up! 😭 I teared up, because as the years quietly moved on - as he gets entangled deeper into a relationship that is so wrong right from the start - there is this faintly foreboding feeling that something will go wrong - can go wrong. And you're waiting for the final shoe to drop and then when you think it will, it's not quite what you thought it was, but it happens so softly and suddenly, because the writing is just so matter-of-fact, but still so immersive that when it hits --- it washes over you and I found myself crying. I should not have felt sorry for him, but somehow I was. 🤧
� � � � � � � � � � � � � Following in those footsteps of heartache, it is that final dissolution, or is it absolution, or retribution for the choices István made in his life that left a void in my own heart. That makes me wonder - what was the point? Was it all for naught? He was searching for a connection, and each time he found it, it was just.... that he still disregards himself so little. It was a bittersweet conclusion that I couldn't help but sympathize with him.� 🥺 A life built on a an unwitting regret and loneliness that begs the question that perhaps all he sought in the arms of another was a place for comfort - a wish that was taken for granted until the end � 'so that you’re left absurdly exposed, unsure whether the world knows everything about you or nothing.'� 😔
*Thank you to Edelweiss for a DRC in exchange for an honest review.
ċċċċ“It's a strange feeling. There’s a sort of deep immovable sadness that wasn’t there� before.�
�
ċ� � � � � � � � � � � � � There was no better way to encapsulate what I was feeling as Szalay's prose neared the end. It reverberated within for the gradual and yet subtle way the narrative shifted towards one of just -- emptiness. For there's no point denying how deeply uncomfortable the opening act was.� 😑 To see a sexual dalliance spring up between a fifteen-year-old boy and a forty-two-year-old married woman is enough to make the stomach churn. 🙅🏻♀� Even if it offers a form of respite from the detached way István� views his life with his mother in Hungary, it sets the precursor of events that would forever be the scale to which his life would measure - an unspeakable and immovable presence of misplaced guilt and I believe, trauma, that made his apathy towards his own emotions seem so apart from everything else.� 😟
� “As long as no one knows about it, it’s like it isn’t really happening.� It’s like it exists in the same way that his fantasies exist, as something� he’s just imagining.
That’s how it seems to him sometimes.”�
� � � � � � � � � � � � ċR徱Բ Flesh was a baffling sensation; that in there was nothing grandiose or grand about the writing. István is a lukewarm run-of-the-mill kind of character who seems to have the misfortune of attracting older married women, who sees himself distant and apathetic, if not indifferent to all that is happening around him, simply that he is just there. Almost as if he simply wishes to avoid difficulties and problems - 'it’s just very painful to think about.' 😮💨� And perhaps that's why he never really places much emphasis on himself - to be used or humbled, without struggle or inspiration, he just exists. In that context, it's hard to care for or even be concerned for him. But, you follow his journey - you see the path he's on - the characters he encounters. You know it's wrong - someone or something is going to be hurt, but you can't look away. You can't quite understand why he's behaving the way he is - why he's not struggling on his own merit, why is it possible that he hasn't shed a past pain that seems to have closed him off from feeling - caring?� 😥
� � � � � � � � � � � � � I always thought that I had read my fair share of questionable descriptions of physical intimacy, but there were certain variations here that were definitely new, if not questionably squeamish to me. 🤨 But, it's that bluntness and straightforwardness of that honest depiction perhaps that echoes István� 's nature� is of a slightly withdrawn and detached feeling, but still fiercely immersive character study of this person who made a mistake and then perhaps, because of it - never grew up. Never escaped that feeling of incompletion that resorted him to allow himself be used and just disregarded, or simply never strive to be something more for himself - a matter of significance, rather than making it feel vague and insubstantial as a half-forgotten dream.� ❤️�
� “He realizes that the things that are so important to him—the things that happened, and that he saw there, the things that left him feeling that nothing would ever be the same again—they just aren’t important here.
Those things have no reality here.
That’s what it feels like.”�
� � � � � � � � � � � � � And what hurts me more. Is that I teared up! 😭 I teared up, because as the years quietly moved on - as he gets entangled deeper into a relationship that is so wrong right from the start - there is this faintly foreboding feeling that something will go wrong - can go wrong. And you're waiting for the final shoe to drop and then when you think it will, it's not quite what you thought it was, but it happens so softly and suddenly, because the writing is just so matter-of-fact, but still so immersive that when it hits --- it washes over you and I found myself crying. I should not have felt sorry for him, but somehow I was. 🤧
� � � � � � � � � � � � � Following in those footsteps of heartache, it is that final dissolution, or is it absolution, or retribution for the choices István made in his life that left a void in my own heart. That makes me wonder - what was the point? Was it all for naught? He was searching for a connection, and each time he found it, it was just.... that he still disregards himself so little. It was a bittersweet conclusion that I couldn't help but sympathize with him.� 🥺 A life built on a an unwitting regret and loneliness that begs the question that perhaps all he sought in the arms of another was a place for comfort - a wish that was taken for granted until the end � 'so that you’re left absurdly exposed, unsure whether the world knows everything about you or nothing.'� 😔
*Thank you to Edelweiss for a DRC in exchange for an honest review.
April 19, 2025
God this book just absolutely broken me. It was exquisitely written, following a man from the age of 15 where he begins an act that changes the course of the rest of his life. Each chapter jumps ahead a few years in time and we follow up him until he is well into late adulthood.
Reading a book just about a man growing up seems boring but the things that happen in this are so distressing and sad, I was completely hooked and couldn’t tear myself away. It’s such a compelling read with characters that come to life and are very easy to her emotionally attached to.
I highly recommend this, it’s a perfect example of literary fiction that takes the ordinary and makes it fascinating and horrifying to read about. It left me so sad at the end but what a journey.
Reading a book just about a man growing up seems boring but the things that happen in this are so distressing and sad, I was completely hooked and couldn’t tear myself away. It’s such a compelling read with characters that come to life and are very easy to her emotionally attached to.
I highly recommend this, it’s a perfect example of literary fiction that takes the ordinary and makes it fascinating and horrifying to read about. It left me so sad at the end but what a journey.
October 25, 2024
I love this book! We follow István from his early life to his mid life always being kept at arms length from him emotionally. There is a sense from the writing style that István has low affect. As we read on we learn much more about him in fact and grow to really empathize and care about him (at least I did). There are certain moments that are kept from us as the reader ie what other characters said in conversation, what gifts were given. I appreciate the author David Szalay not holding our hand as the reader or feeling the need to spell everything out. The book is relatively plot driven because of the lack of emotions and it gets pretty wild and self referential. István lives a very unique life and is a character who floats through life by saying yes to almost everything that is presented to him. The pacing and energy of the book reminded me a lot of Paul Murray’s The Bee Sting. I couldn’t put it down because I always had the feeling I needed to know what happened next. Flesh comes out on 4/1/25 and I recommend it very enthusiastically!
October 20, 2024
Ok this book is complete garbage and I'm not wasting any more of my time reading it. On top of that it's so poorly written that it's unbelievable.
I received a free Advance Reader's Edition of the book from Scribner / ŷ and I am so sorry that I did.
I received a free Advance Reader's Edition of the book from Scribner / ŷ and I am so sorry that I did.
March 10, 2025
Flesh is a novel that is difficult to review. I found myself totally sucked into it, without actually really enjoying it very much. It's an account of a life lived, with mixed fortunes and much heartbreak.
Written in stark, detached, plain prose, with very simple, pared-back dialogue, the overarching message that I got from the book was that the protagonist Istvan, groomed as a 15 year old boy by his neighbour, a 40 year old woman, never emotionally matured beyond that point. One might describe it as the opposite of a Bildungsroman, because the protagonist never really comes of age but merely passively accepts what life has to throw at him.
The book opens with teenage Istvan in his native Hungary encountering the older woman and becoming involved in a sexual relationship with her. From there, Istvan joins the army and then eventually moves to London, where he almost unwittingly enters the realm of the billionaire class.
For me, Flesh doesn't have the same level of pathos of Stoner by John Williams (which I loved), and it has far more graphic sex in it, but it did remind me of Stoner in that cold, detached view of a life that actually contained multitudes, as indeed all do. Would I recommend it? Sort of. If it sounds like your thing. Certainly thought-provoking and more clever than might appear on a superficial reading. 3.5/5 stars
*Many thanks to Vintage Books for the arc via Netgalley. As always, this is an honest review.
Written in stark, detached, plain prose, with very simple, pared-back dialogue, the overarching message that I got from the book was that the protagonist Istvan, groomed as a 15 year old boy by his neighbour, a 40 year old woman, never emotionally matured beyond that point. One might describe it as the opposite of a Bildungsroman, because the protagonist never really comes of age but merely passively accepts what life has to throw at him.
The book opens with teenage Istvan in his native Hungary encountering the older woman and becoming involved in a sexual relationship with her. From there, Istvan joins the army and then eventually moves to London, where he almost unwittingly enters the realm of the billionaire class.
For me, Flesh doesn't have the same level of pathos of Stoner by John Williams (which I loved), and it has far more graphic sex in it, but it did remind me of Stoner in that cold, detached view of a life that actually contained multitudes, as indeed all do. Would I recommend it? Sort of. If it sounds like your thing. Certainly thought-provoking and more clever than might appear on a superficial reading. 3.5/5 stars
*Many thanks to Vintage Books for the arc via Netgalley. As always, this is an honest review.
February 2, 2025
a whole lot of life and a whole lot of sex but also the main character is so dry and has no redemption or slight change in character
did not vibe well with the writing style either. very blunt and the dialogue was so lacking.
did not vibe well with the writing style either. very blunt and the dialogue was so lacking.
February 23, 2025
I finished this more than a week ago and totally forgot to write something about it, so here I go.
'Flesh' is a tragic and often sad but fascinating novel about growing up and becoming an adult, coming from poverty and ending up extremely rich. Szalay uses short and direct sentences, which work really well and propel you forward and I read this pretty fast. I wouldn't say I 'enjoyed' reading this book, but I was wat least very much invested in it.
Thank you Jonathan Cape and Netgalley UK for the ARC.
'Flesh' is a tragic and often sad but fascinating novel about growing up and becoming an adult, coming from poverty and ending up extremely rich. Szalay uses short and direct sentences, which work really well and propel you forward and I read this pretty fast. I wouldn't say I 'enjoyed' reading this book, but I was wat least very much invested in it.
Thank you Jonathan Cape and Netgalley UK for the ARC.
April 8, 2025
István, a Hungarian man living in London, is at the mercy of life’s events. It’s not fate because the story doesn’t narrowly present occurrences deterministically. But coincidences accompany the cause and effect of one’s choices. For István, his neighbor sexually abuses him when he’s in high school, he accidentally kills his neighbor’s husband, a friend dies when they serve together in Ukraine, he has an affair with his employer’s wife, he files for bankruptcy when he can’t find investors for his company, his son Jacob and his wife Helen die in a car accident, his stepson abuses substances, and he works as a security guard when he and his mother move back to Hungary. Szalay animates István’s story by taking us through many iterations of a life, maybe commonly called seasons, within his single life.
Readers will not feel an attachment to István, even though coming-of-age stories about child victims of sexual abuse generally foster emotional connections, at least in my experience. Szalay’s story will not create this bond; the expanse between István’s circumstances and his process of the circumstances remains vast. This failure to attach reminds us of István’s early detachment from his body when his neighbor grooms a minor, perhaps proved by his masturbation. The detachment settles in when his friend dies and István doesn’t do the proper work in therapy. Our main character exercises agency—he starts a business and pushes his son not to transfer to a new school. But one witnesses a fractured, compliant man moved along by arbitrary events. His young mind and grasp of reality are malleable; in time, his conditions cross-wire his natural bodily desires and instincts.
Are guilt and corruption passed from one generation to the next? If so, do these factors constitute happenstance or destiny? At a minimum, Jacob picks up on habits, mannerisms, and trauma, evidenced by Jacob mimicking his father’s monosyllabic answers, which vary from “yes� to “sure� and “okay.� This pattern of dialogue, matched with the third-person perspective, slower-paced unfolding, and István’s absent internal dialogue, gives the book a spacious, uncomplicated tone, ideal for personal reflection.
Readers will not feel an attachment to István, even though coming-of-age stories about child victims of sexual abuse generally foster emotional connections, at least in my experience. Szalay’s story will not create this bond; the expanse between István’s circumstances and his process of the circumstances remains vast. This failure to attach reminds us of István’s early detachment from his body when his neighbor grooms a minor, perhaps proved by his masturbation. The detachment settles in when his friend dies and István doesn’t do the proper work in therapy. Our main character exercises agency—he starts a business and pushes his son not to transfer to a new school. But one witnesses a fractured, compliant man moved along by arbitrary events. His young mind and grasp of reality are malleable; in time, his conditions cross-wire his natural bodily desires and instincts.
Are guilt and corruption passed from one generation to the next? If so, do these factors constitute happenstance or destiny? At a minimum, Jacob picks up on habits, mannerisms, and trauma, evidenced by Jacob mimicking his father’s monosyllabic answers, which vary from “yes� to “sure� and “okay.� This pattern of dialogue, matched with the third-person perspective, slower-paced unfolding, and István’s absent internal dialogue, gives the book a spacious, uncomplicated tone, ideal for personal reflection.
April 18, 2025
David Szalay has developed a niche in that he writes about men at the crossroads and how the experience makes or breaks them. In the other two of his books that I've read, he has consistently honed this angle and here continues it. István and his mother begin their lives in Hungary where his affair at age 15 with a married neighbor leads to dire circumstances and a rapid coming of age. Szalay writes with an almost dispassionate reserve, with clipped responses that belie the turmoil beneath the surface. Stages of István's life are reached through seemingly arbitrary leaps, but the inner life is examined microscopically in beautiful prose. I'll continue reading his books as long as he continues writing.
April 7, 2025
Depressingly mesmerizing
January 14, 2025
4.5 ⭐️ The story of one man’s life from humble beginnings in Hungary to extreme wealth in London. Unconventional, unsettling but pretty extraordinary. The way Szalay withholds and dispenses information about the characters is incredibly done - it’s written in this very sparse flat style but I was completely gripped. Get it on the Booker shortlist!!
April 1, 2025
Thank you Scribner for an ARC!
4.25 stars
An introspective meditation on life after trauma that never truly heals.
David Szalay uses very simplistic prose reminiscent of Cormac McCarthy which is definitely going to be polarizing. I personally love when an author is able to utilize language so effectively that they don’t need to be overly poetic or descriptive. They just get right to the point and Szalay does it so well in Flesh!
It did take me a little bit to get used to the time jumps with each chapter but once I did I was completely immersed in this story. We follow István as his entire life is constantly derailed by tragic events he can’t control. It starts when he’s just 15 years old when a horrific situation arises and we watch as he never mentally ages past that point because of it.
This book probably won’t be for everyone but I appreciated it? (Feels weird to say I enjoyed/loved it given the subject matter) If you don’t like very melancholic, tragic books then maybe avoid this one.
4.25 stars
An introspective meditation on life after trauma that never truly heals.
David Szalay uses very simplistic prose reminiscent of Cormac McCarthy which is definitely going to be polarizing. I personally love when an author is able to utilize language so effectively that they don’t need to be overly poetic or descriptive. They just get right to the point and Szalay does it so well in Flesh!
It did take me a little bit to get used to the time jumps with each chapter but once I did I was completely immersed in this story. We follow István as his entire life is constantly derailed by tragic events he can’t control. It starts when he’s just 15 years old when a horrific situation arises and we watch as he never mentally ages past that point because of it.
This book probably won’t be for everyone but I appreciated it? (Feels weird to say I enjoyed/loved it given the subject matter) If you don’t like very melancholic, tragic books then maybe avoid this one.
April 1, 2025
István is barely a teenager when we first meet him. He lives is a small Hungarian town and early on in the novel, he's seduced by his forty year old neighbour. We follow his life through his incarceration, PTSD following his tour to Afghanistan and eventually, his departure for England. It's there that he makes a living as a security guard and is eventually hired by a rich couple. Within months, he's seduced by the his female boss - Helena - while her well to-do husband is treated for cancer in Germany. With each chapter, István seems to come to terms with the sad reality of his life, even when extreme tragedy strikes. There's no self-pity or reflection on his part, just a case of eternal victimhood. Grim but highly rewarding novel that speaks to a bleak state of human life.
April 7, 2025
If the first thing you think when you finish a book is, “How did he do that!?�, you can be sure the author has pulled off something remarkable. I’ve long admired Szalay’s style and enjoyed his previous novels, but in his latest, the medium somehow IS the message. With spare, straightforward prose, and dialogue laconic in the extreme, Szalay portrays István, from age 15 to about 65. What he undergoes during that half-century is out-of-the ordinary, yet his story is, at bottom, about our common human experience. Physical and emotional, personal and geopolitical, it examines our bodies� interface between our inner selves and the outer world. While Szalay has a quietly goofy humor that just tickled me, he also brought me to tears. But it wasn’t distress I was feeling, it was catharsis. And I realized that’s exactly what I’ve been needing these days.
P.S. I know it’s early, but I wouldn’t be surprised if Flesh was a Booker nominee. It’s definitely going to be on my personal 2025 Top Ten.
P.S. I know it’s early, but I wouldn’t be surprised if Flesh was a Booker nominee. It’s definitely going to be on my personal 2025 Top Ten.
April 12, 2025
At first, I wasn’t sure if I could connect with such a quiet, emotionally distant character, but Flesh surprised me. It’s a stark, slow-burn novel that quietly gets under your skin.
We follow István, a boy growing up in post-Soviet Hungary, through military service, migration to London to a surprising entry into London’s elite society. He’s passive and often hard to like and clearly not a hero in any traditional sense but I still cared about him.
The writing is sparse there’s minimal, stilted dialogue and short scenes to capture a whole life in a fairly short novel, but it works.
It’s not an easy read, but it’s compelling in its own strange way. If you like introspective, character-led novels that deal with trauma, masculinity and the meaning of existence (with the occasional unexpected turn), this one’s worth a go.
Many thanks to NetGalley for the ARC.
We follow István, a boy growing up in post-Soviet Hungary, through military service, migration to London to a surprising entry into London’s elite society. He’s passive and often hard to like and clearly not a hero in any traditional sense but I still cared about him.
The writing is sparse there’s minimal, stilted dialogue and short scenes to capture a whole life in a fairly short novel, but it works.
It’s not an easy read, but it’s compelling in its own strange way. If you like introspective, character-led novels that deal with trauma, masculinity and the meaning of existence (with the occasional unexpected turn), this one’s worth a go.
Many thanks to NetGalley for the ARC.
April 10, 2025
Szalay has a way of writing to keep the reader engaged. At the beginning of every chapter he does a time jump and doesn’t expain what happened during the time that has passed, which makes the reader more curious. Wondering what happened and what is to come. His style of writing is brilliant.
Kind of wonder what Istvan’s life could have turned out to be had he left Thomas that night.
Kind of wonder what Istvan’s life could have turned out to be had he left Thomas that night.
March 24, 2025
The ultimate example that a life is emotional enough in itself. No need to add anything extra, just write it down in as it happens.
March 23, 2025
Superb. Incredibly well-written, I couldn’t put it down.
October 23, 2024
"Flesh" follows the story of István, a young man in Hungary whose life takes a dark turn after a series of uncontrollable events. After a tragic accident, István emigrates to London where he becomes a driver for the wealthy, navigating a series of encounters that shape his life. The novel explores themes of trauma, immigration, and the impact of strangers on one's life with a mix of sensitivity, observation, and tragedy. It delves into István's intimate moments with others, revealing the lasting effects of unresolved trauma in a constantly changing and sometimes violent Europe.
As I delved into this book, I initially questioned whether it was just another run-of-the-mill novel. However, I was pleasantly surprised by the level of detail provided, which forced me to pause and reflect. The story began on a strong note, but gradually lost momentum. As an immigrant myself, striving for a sense of normalcy in a foreign land, I found elements of the protagonist's journey relatable. Despite encountering setbacks along the way, the character's story felt authentic and genuine.
Although the narrative seemed to meander at times, I continued reading, intrigued by the protagonist's youthful perspective. The depiction of the settings, particularly Hungary and London, resonated with me due to my own experiences visiting these places.
While some readers may find the book challenging, I found the initial premise engaging. However, as the story progressed, it veered into the realm of everyday occurrences that are often beyond our control. Perhaps this tale would be better suited for an audiobook format.
Ultimately, reading preferences vary from person to person. I encourage you to give this book a chance and form your own judgment.
Thank you, Scribner for digital ARC copy. I am leaving this review voluntarily.
As I delved into this book, I initially questioned whether it was just another run-of-the-mill novel. However, I was pleasantly surprised by the level of detail provided, which forced me to pause and reflect. The story began on a strong note, but gradually lost momentum. As an immigrant myself, striving for a sense of normalcy in a foreign land, I found elements of the protagonist's journey relatable. Despite encountering setbacks along the way, the character's story felt authentic and genuine.
Although the narrative seemed to meander at times, I continued reading, intrigued by the protagonist's youthful perspective. The depiction of the settings, particularly Hungary and London, resonated with me due to my own experiences visiting these places.
While some readers may find the book challenging, I found the initial premise engaging. However, as the story progressed, it veered into the realm of everyday occurrences that are often beyond our control. Perhaps this tale would be better suited for an audiobook format.
Ultimately, reading preferences vary from person to person. I encourage you to give this book a chance and form your own judgment.
Thank you, Scribner for digital ARC copy. I am leaving this review voluntarily.
February 5, 2025
A stunning read. Right from the first page, I was hooked and literally tried to read this book with any spare moment that I had. For many reasons, this book really resonated me. It's really tight focus, the jumping timeline with no warning or justification and the story being told in a frank and bold manner, just creates a book that I now love.
It's unabashed stance and starkness and how it reads without fear or judgement, just makes me love it more. As ever, thank you for the kind publisher for allowing me to read this early, I think I'll buy this book when it released, as it is something that good that I'd like a physical copy.
It's unabashed stance and starkness and how it reads without fear or judgement, just makes me love it more. As ever, thank you for the kind publisher for allowing me to read this early, I think I'll buy this book when it released, as it is something that good that I'd like a physical copy.
April 17, 2025
David Szalay’s Flesh is a stark, haunting novel that traces the life of István, a Hungarian man whose adolescence is marked by trauma and whose adulthood is shaped by the lingering aftermath of those early events. Szalay’s spare, almost clinical prose style propels the narrative forward, often leaving the most violent or dramatic moments off the page and instead focusing on the silences and gaps that trauma creates. This technique, compared to a horror film’s cutaway, forces readers to fill in the emotional and psychological blanks, intensifying the impact of what remains unsaid but leaving large gaps in the plotline.
The story opens in 1980s Hungary, with 15-year-old István living in a new apartment complex with his mother. He becomes entangled with an older neighbor, leading to a sexual relationship that is both exploitative and confusing for the inarticulate, withdrawn teenager. When a confrontation with the neighbor’s husband ends in the man’s death, István’s life is irrevocably altered. Szalay moves quickly past the violence and its immediate aftermath, mirroring István’s own emotional detachment and inability to process what has happened.
As the novel progresses, István’s journey takes him through a young offenders� institution, military service, and eventually to London, where he works as a doorman and driver and bodyguard becoming involved with his wealthy employer’s wife. The narrative structure is episodic, with each chapter self-contained, allowing readers to step in and out of István’s life as he drifts through decades, relationships, and countries. Throughout, Szalay resists melodrama, instead offering a portrait of a man shaped more by what happens to him than by his own choices—a life that seems to unfold by chance rather than design.
A recurring theme in Flesh is the uneasy relationship between body and self, desire and agency. The title itself evokes both physicality and vulnerability, and Szalay explores how István’s experiences with sex, violence, and power are inextricably linked to his sense of identity—or lack thereof. István is portrayed as passive, almost blank, a vessel for the actions and desires of others, which some critics have noted raises questions about masculinity and agency in Szalay’s writing.
While some readers may find the novel’s minimalism and emotional distance challenging, Szalay’s approach is deliberate and effective, creating a narrative that is both unsettling and deeply affecting. The result is a wise, unflinching examination of trauma, survival, and the ways in which the past continues to shape the present.
Flesh is not an easy read, but it is a powerful one—an exploration of the spaces between violence and recovery, agency and passivity, flesh and self. A man’s hapless and passive search for his soul.
The story opens in 1980s Hungary, with 15-year-old István living in a new apartment complex with his mother. He becomes entangled with an older neighbor, leading to a sexual relationship that is both exploitative and confusing for the inarticulate, withdrawn teenager. When a confrontation with the neighbor’s husband ends in the man’s death, István’s life is irrevocably altered. Szalay moves quickly past the violence and its immediate aftermath, mirroring István’s own emotional detachment and inability to process what has happened.
As the novel progresses, István’s journey takes him through a young offenders� institution, military service, and eventually to London, where he works as a doorman and driver and bodyguard becoming involved with his wealthy employer’s wife. The narrative structure is episodic, with each chapter self-contained, allowing readers to step in and out of István’s life as he drifts through decades, relationships, and countries. Throughout, Szalay resists melodrama, instead offering a portrait of a man shaped more by what happens to him than by his own choices—a life that seems to unfold by chance rather than design.
A recurring theme in Flesh is the uneasy relationship between body and self, desire and agency. The title itself evokes both physicality and vulnerability, and Szalay explores how István’s experiences with sex, violence, and power are inextricably linked to his sense of identity—or lack thereof. István is portrayed as passive, almost blank, a vessel for the actions and desires of others, which some critics have noted raises questions about masculinity and agency in Szalay’s writing.
While some readers may find the novel’s minimalism and emotional distance challenging, Szalay’s approach is deliberate and effective, creating a narrative that is both unsettling and deeply affecting. The result is a wise, unflinching examination of trauma, survival, and the ways in which the past continues to shape the present.
Flesh is not an easy read, but it is a powerful one—an exploration of the spaces between violence and recovery, agency and passivity, flesh and self. A man’s hapless and passive search for his soul.
April 21, 2025
Istvan is a mild mannered, quiet and a passive man. He is not a go getter, active or interested in shaping his future. Perhaps because of his passive character things seem to happen to him, rather than him making things happen for him. Events seem to sweep him off and he is only a passenger where other people or circumstances are the protagonists. The first encounter he experiences is a great example of the rest of his life. As a teenage boy he is highly interested in sex but does not seem to have the personality to attract women. By happenstance he starts helping an older married woman with her groceries, one thing turns to another and she ends up seducing him. Unfamiliar with the pleasure and the feelings this relationship brings Istvan is unable to control his emotions which turn into a tragedy. From them on he never takes the initiative to shape his life, and events are always shaping the decisions he makes. It is no accident that the women he gets involved with are usually married and don't necessarily want to get divorced and pick him as a lover because of his nonthreating demeanor. He never takes charge or control of the relationships and does whatever the women expect of him and he does not have charm or personality to attract single women. Whenever there are tragedies in his life he seems detached from it all and David Szlay does a magnificent job in leaving us with the impression that Itsvan will eventually just move on, not showing any sadness or emotions to the tragic events that happen to him.
Which brings me to what I believe is the core of the novel, essentially whether we control our destinies or if that idea is nothing but an illusion. Itsvan controls very little and we could easily conclude that this is the case because of his character. However, it would also seem arrogant to assume we control the events of our lives. The point, I think is whether we think we control it all or nothing, we can not escape the tectonics forces of time. We can not know what awaits us and how those events will affect or shape us, and even change us. At one point Itsvan asks one of his lovers if life had turned out the way she expected, she sais no, it dit not. The same is true for Itsvan and I suspect the same can be said for the great majority of people alive, if they are honest with themselves. In America we believe that our actions good or bad decide our destinies. But if you think about it, there are millions of people in this world that have done everything right, been moral and worked hard and do not end up having glorious or successful lives. Those people will identify with Istvan.
Which brings me to what I believe is the core of the novel, essentially whether we control our destinies or if that idea is nothing but an illusion. Itsvan controls very little and we could easily conclude that this is the case because of his character. However, it would also seem arrogant to assume we control the events of our lives. The point, I think is whether we think we control it all or nothing, we can not escape the tectonics forces of time. We can not know what awaits us and how those events will affect or shape us, and even change us. At one point Itsvan asks one of his lovers if life had turned out the way she expected, she sais no, it dit not. The same is true for Itsvan and I suspect the same can be said for the great majority of people alive, if they are honest with themselves. In America we believe that our actions good or bad decide our destinies. But if you think about it, there are millions of people in this world that have done everything right, been moral and worked hard and do not end up having glorious or successful lives. Those people will identify with Istvan.
April 4, 2025
István is a teenager living with his mother in their apartment in Hungary when we meet him in Flesh. He's socially awkward, answers everything monosyllabically, and doesn't appear to have any agency. Things happen *to* him.
If you've seen Pete Davidson's character Chad on SNL, you've seen Peter Szalay's István. Especially in that first chapter when he's seduced by a much older woman (she's 42!!!) who hires him to help with the groceries.
In each chapter we jump through István's life, in stark, stripped down prose. István doesn't appear to change much, but his circumstances do. Things continue to happen to him as he joins the army, moves to Germany, then London. Fate seems to land István in a variety of jobs, interacting with increasingly rich clientele until he finds himself on that other side.
Flesh is mesmerizing. The prose is straightforward, with the action happening between the lines. We're pulled along with István as he goes through life. It's sneaky - like István, we become observers as we're propelled forward in time. It's slice of life, it's an immigrant tale, it's tragic, it's funny.
I remember liking Szalay's Turbulence, a novel of interconnected occurrences of people traveling around the globe. I'll be seeking out more of his work.
My thanks to NetGalley and Scribner for the Advance Reader Copy. (pub date 4/1/2025)
If you've seen Pete Davidson's character Chad on SNL, you've seen Peter Szalay's István. Especially in that first chapter when he's seduced by a much older woman (she's 42!!!) who hires him to help with the groceries.
In each chapter we jump through István's life, in stark, stripped down prose. István doesn't appear to change much, but his circumstances do. Things continue to happen to him as he joins the army, moves to Germany, then London. Fate seems to land István in a variety of jobs, interacting with increasingly rich clientele until he finds himself on that other side.
Flesh is mesmerizing. The prose is straightforward, with the action happening between the lines. We're pulled along with István as he goes through life. It's sneaky - like István, we become observers as we're propelled forward in time. It's slice of life, it's an immigrant tale, it's tragic, it's funny.
I remember liking Szalay's Turbulence, a novel of interconnected occurrences of people traveling around the globe. I'll be seeking out more of his work.
My thanks to NetGalley and Scribner for the Advance Reader Copy. (pub date 4/1/2025)
April 16, 2025
A master class in suspense (and, imo, brilliant form).
It’s hard to say what is to like about this book other than those two things—Istvan sucks as a person (bad) and his lack of initiative for anything other than sleeping with married women kills me. The settings suck (other than the Hungarian lake and the Atol house pool) because they’re just so sad—the Hungarian Tex-mex place, London in general, the raininess in London specifically. There’s no existent plot.
Does this show how good the writing is? All this considered, still 4 stars. 5 if Istvan wouldn’t be so terrible.
It’s hard to say what is to like about this book other than those two things—Istvan sucks as a person (bad) and his lack of initiative for anything other than sleeping with married women kills me. The settings suck (other than the Hungarian lake and the Atol house pool) because they’re just so sad—the Hungarian Tex-mex place, London in general, the raininess in London specifically. There’s no existent plot.
Does this show how good the writing is? All this considered, still 4 stars. 5 if Istvan wouldn’t be so terrible.
March 15, 2025
Flesh opens with 15-year-old István being groomed and seduced by a neighbour in her forties, followed by a dramatic accident borne of frustration. And so the tenor of this book is set, events that happen *to* István as he moves from Hungary to London via the Balkans and war-torn Iraq, rather than life-plans conceived and instigated. A story whose cynosure is the bedroom and the sexual encounters, almost exclusively initiated by women, consistently described in somatic not emotional terms.
István is a physically potent but conversationally deficient protagonist (but perversely not one lacking in intelligence). The dialogue is uniformly stilted and staccato. When asked for an opinion, even about his own experiences, a variation on a phrase including ‘okay� is István’s stock response. (I confess the ubiquity of that word grated on me). I have read an interview with David Szalay in which he says “What’s not said is as important, in this story and in the novel as a whole, as what is�. The art of being heard through omission is one that Claire Keegan has perfected, but unlike Keegan’s stories, in Flesh I found the omissions to be curious detractors not suggestive embellishments to the text.
At the core there is an incipient rags to riches fable of an immigrant overcoming the challenges of new surroundings and being taken advantage of, to make good. But the detached perspective and journaling approach chosen to convey the narrative, smothered my interest in the protagonist in a blanket of indifference. Instead of being immersed in his struggles and fate, I felt almost voyeuristic on occasion.
It appears that Szalay deliberately wrote a story about the most passive of characters and elected to focus on the effect of how a self-interested world treats him primarily from a corporeal standpoint. But it left me wanting less apathy, more resistance and emotional engagement, frankly more oomph! And so for me, ironically, Flesh was simply ‘okay�.
I have seen other reviews expressing more upbeat reactions to Szalay’s storytelling, so don’t let me put you off this book. It could be that Flesh merely happened to me at the wrong time.
István is a physically potent but conversationally deficient protagonist (but perversely not one lacking in intelligence). The dialogue is uniformly stilted and staccato. When asked for an opinion, even about his own experiences, a variation on a phrase including ‘okay� is István’s stock response. (I confess the ubiquity of that word grated on me). I have read an interview with David Szalay in which he says “What’s not said is as important, in this story and in the novel as a whole, as what is�. The art of being heard through omission is one that Claire Keegan has perfected, but unlike Keegan’s stories, in Flesh I found the omissions to be curious detractors not suggestive embellishments to the text.
At the core there is an incipient rags to riches fable of an immigrant overcoming the challenges of new surroundings and being taken advantage of, to make good. But the detached perspective and journaling approach chosen to convey the narrative, smothered my interest in the protagonist in a blanket of indifference. Instead of being immersed in his struggles and fate, I felt almost voyeuristic on occasion.
It appears that Szalay deliberately wrote a story about the most passive of characters and elected to focus on the effect of how a self-interested world treats him primarily from a corporeal standpoint. But it left me wanting less apathy, more resistance and emotional engagement, frankly more oomph! And so for me, ironically, Flesh was simply ‘okay�.
I have seen other reviews expressing more upbeat reactions to Szalay’s storytelling, so don’t let me put you off this book. It could be that Flesh merely happened to me at the wrong time.
April 8, 2025
More sparse than his previous novels but no one does it better
April 1, 2025
Another reviewer has described this book as difficult to review which I would agree with. At times uncomfortable to read, stilted dialogue, and deeply flawed characters. But at the same time strangely compelling and ultimately sad. Istvan is incapable of forming lasting relationships and floats through life without making one conscious decision. Even the relationships he has are unsatisfactory. I wondered at one stage what was the point but ultimately I was hooked. Life goes full circle.
Displaying 1 - 30 of 125 reviews
Can't find what you're looking for?
Get help and learn more about the design.