Teddy Wayne's writing is witty, and he writes seemingly normal people quite well, in this book at least. The main character is frustrating to read, because he's frankly a bit of a loser, but it's hard not to root for him throughout. And this book is FUNNY.

I really enjoyed this novel as I began reading it. However, as I went on, I kept asking myself if I was really that interested in it. Ultimately, I finished but there was nothing here that surprised me or made me glad that I had spent a couple hours with it. I cannot recommend it.

The entire time I read, I couldn't stop thinking of my father. Perhaps Paul, our main character, is an alternate version of him. I tried to read this with as much empathy as I could; there is certainly plenty of sociological analysis to be made here, I think.

I was so profoundly moved by the message and plotline in this article and am seriously so thankful to Bloomsbury USA, NetGalley, and Teddy Wayne for granting me access to this magnificent read before it was set to publish to the public. I always appreciate well-done literary fiction, and I definitely count The Great Man Theory as a well-done publication.

Oh man, nobody likes Paul, so he has to be different or just be. I really liked the idea of a man reinventing himself because he realizes that he is the problem. It gave A Man Called Ove vibes for sure.

Politically charged, but lacking in drive. I found this novel to be a bit of a let down, as it did not deliver on what I have come to enjoy most from Teddy Wayne. I will still continue to read his works, but this is one of my least favorites of his thus far.

Published by Bloomsbury Publishing on July 12, 2022

Like Loner and Apartment, The Great Man Theory is about a man whose true nature is at odds with his self-image. Paul is a 46-year-old academic, an instructor (demoted from lecturer for budgetary reasons) at a private New York City college for rich kids who can’t get into NYU. Paul has never been able to make the jump to professor, largely because of his limited publication history. He teaches writing but his own obscure essays are rarely published, likely because few people would want to read them. That’s fine with Paul, because anything that appeals to the masses is too trendy or superficial for Paul’s refined sensibilities.

Paul prides himself on eschewing technology (his mobile phone isn’t a smart phone) and won’t let his daughter Mabel watch significant amounts of television or have a phone with a screen. Paul is writing a book, The Luddite Manifesto, about the negative impact of social media and digital communications on attention spans, civility, and intellect. He has a publishing contract with an academic publisher and hopes the book will put him on track to a better academic job.

To make ends meet until he can conjure the life he believes he deserves, Paul becomes a rideshare driver, a gig that requires him to purchase a cheap smartphone. After an internal struggle, he begins leaving comments on a left-leaning news site, justifying his participation in social media as research for his book. To justify his thrill at receiving likes, he begins to post long comments as an antidote to the brief comments that (in his view) dumb down discourse. He gains a certain following, all while telling himself that he is elevating the digital form by posting meaningful analysis.

Paul’s is the story of a deteriorating life. He has a talent for shooting himself in the foot. Adderall doesn’t help him write as much as he thinks it does. To save money, he moves in with his mother but soon damages his relationship with her. He then damages his relationship with his daughter, his ex-wife, his employer, his colleagues, and his publisher.

Paul isn’t necessarily an evil person (or not until the novel ends), but he’s judgmental and a hypocrite. He fails to recognize any of those traits, in part because he is convinced that his critical judgments are reasonable and warranted. He bashes his students and the entire generation to which they belong because they don’t read printed books. He accuses them of expressing themselves in soundbites instead of nuanced thought. When a student writes a clever essay (in images and soundbites) that pushes back, Paul gives her an unwarranted D out of spite. The novel suggests that critics who view social media as dumbing down the populace should listen to the perspectives of bright young people who are no more dumbed down than boomers who grew up watching television.

Paul criticizes fellow liberals as elitist without bothering to learn about the work they are quietly doing to make society better. Yet Paul is not fundamentally different than his “elitist” friends; their tastes are the same and Paul’s meager resources stem from professional failure, not from sacrifice. But Paul doesn’t listen to his friends, his students, his daughter, or anyone else. He’s too busy being self-absorbed.

Paul isn’t necessarily creepy, but he gives off a creepiness vibe. It comes through when he insists on applying lotion to his daughter’s body, when he feels sad that, at age 11, she no longer wants to sleep in his bed, when he wants to sit in his parked car with a student to help her with an essay. The student — the one who got a D — may have misconstrued Paul’s intent (their conversation is ambiguous) or may be retaliating for a bad grade when she complains about harassment, but the truth is never entirely clear.

The Great Man Theory pokes fun at academia, bigots, Trump, and liberals who are too quick to judge others for not rigidly adhering to liberal doctrine. Wayne skewers schools that tell professors to avoid assigning books that have “trigger words,” schools that presume the fragility of marginalized students and fear disturbing them — as if education should never disturb students, never challenge students to understand the context in which a writer like Richard Wright or Mark Twain might have used a trigger word.

The novel lampoons the anti-feminist attitude of a woman who produces a show for a conservative media organization, a job she only has because of feminism. The producer is irate when Paul asks her to pay for one of the expensive dinners they’ve had. She earns several multiples of Paul’s income but wonders if she can date a man who isn’t capable of taking care of her. Paul dates her because he imagines he might get booked as a guest (with a host who might be modeled after Hannity) so he can offer unexpected but well-reasoned arguments from a liberal perspective. It isn’t much a plan but Paul isn’t good at distinguishing realistic from foolish plans.

As the story nears its resolution, it becomes clear that the ending will be dark. The nature of the darkness is foreshadowed a bit, but the details are surprising.

While the story is apparently meant to be dark comedy, it is more amusing than funny. Still, my interest in Paul’s self-destruction never wavered. The Great Man Theory isn’t a particularly insightful dissection of the idiotic culture wars that divide America, but Teddy Wayne does offer some insight into how people who take themselves too seriously — people who love their own minds but don’t bother to consider how their words and actions might affect others — can become the kind of people they claim to despise.

RECOMMENDED

This just wasn’t for me. Everyone was so pretentious even the kids. Paul was bumbling his way through life, and his actions made me both uncomfortable and sad for him as a person.

This novel explores the experiences of Paul, a struggling author, a divorced and committed dad, and technology skeptic whose previously comfortable life begins to fall apart as he is demoted at work, his daughter is withdrawing, and he is forced to move back in with his aging mother who, he finds out, has much different views of the world than Paul and most of those in his orbit. The book explores the main character's growing disillusionment with society and institutions and how his alienation leads him on a surprising path. Like the author's earlier books, it is a finely crafted character study embedded in interesting observations of societal dynamics.

Recommended!

In The Great Man Theory Teddy Wayne tells the story of Paul - a demoted professor, divorced father, and fledgling author who recently moved back in with his mother. Paul channels his personal failures into an all-consuming rage against technology and the capitalist system it supports; a rage which manifests in snippy, irritating comments that alienate him from his few remaining friends

Paul, who moonlights as an uber-driver, is the modern Travis Bickle - a disaffected outsider on the fringes of society (not a Vietnam vet but today’s equivalent; a cis-white-male academic) - whose alienation builds towards an inevitable violent conclusion.

There is a lot going on in this book. It’s a portrait of a specific time in American history (characterized by an unnamed twitter obsessed President), an indictment of the culture wars that continue to plague American society, but, despite all it ostensibly tackles, at its core The Great Man Theory is just another fascinating character study by Teddy Wayne.

*will post to Instagram on the release date.

Personally, I just could not get into this book. I have heard others give it rave reviews, and I will certainly be recommending it to customers who are looking for something similar, but I did not make it very far.

Before I get into my opinions on the plot and characters, I want to say that this is one of the most flawlessly written books I've read all year. Teddy Wayne is a phenomenal writer and I've already wishlisted his other books on Goodreads. I can't wait to dig into more of his work, as it seems he's got a good bit of range.

Indeed, his aptitude at prose is part of the reason I'm giving this five stars instead of four stars. It's really like a 4.5 for me, but I just cannot downgrade writing that is this superb. This novel is poignant when it wants to be; quirky when it wants to be; tragic when it wants to be; and unhinged when it wants to be. That is all kudos to the author.

I was initially planning to describe the plot that this book follows, and naturally some of that will come into play during this review. However, it's not the little events that occur throughout the narrative that make this book incredible (although Wayne is adept at being subtle-with minor details coming back to haunt our main character). It's ultimately an epic, in a literary sense, tragic fall of a man, and to me a character study as well.

Our main character is a fella named Paul, and he's literally a man stuck in mud. He was a senior lecturer at a private college, but has been demoted to an adjunct instructor with both a pay cut and a cut to his ego.

He is a raging liberal academic, and he's pretty much a jerk about it- he disparages anyone who doesn't share his worldview. Moreso, he disparages anyone who doesn't have the precise variant and reasoning for his worldview. He also, later with the help of adderall, is writing a manuscript called the Luddite Manifesto.

Essentially he's a dick to everyone around him. As I generally inject a bit of my own personality into my reviews I'll use myself as an example of Paul, but I'm going to make this more humorous than political... although I have a few transgressive opinions up my sleeve that are neither liberal nor conservative.

"I believe traumatic brain injury is the biggest silent epidemic in America, insurance is the most evil industry, my favorite band is Coil and they are generally superior to all other bands and I would know because my last.fm page shows I've listened to almost 10k artists, I think it's difficult to find a good therapist/psychologist, the most underrated TV show is The Americans, AND IF YOU DON'T SHARE MY OPINION FOR THE EXACT SAME PERSONAL REASON THAT I HAVE DEVELOPED THAT OPINION THEN YOU ARE WRONG "

His views don't have much to do with it. You could make Paul a flaming liberal OR conservative, and the arc of the story would still make some sense! There's a lot of beauty in that. My only counterargument would be that the liberalism is typically synonymous with an academic. I digress.

Paul is 46 years old and he lives with his mother, whom he alienates and picks-on for her more conservative leanings and for watching the conservative cable news channel. He balks at her successful boyfriend, Marvin, even though it's revealed later that he's a huge comfort to his mother as they've both grieved spouses.

The big light in his life is his daughter, Mabel, an 11 year old who is going through some big changes (as all young ladies do, and some young men as well). Paul loves her to death, but is pretty blind to some of the changes she's going through for her age.

Paul treats Mabel like a little kid. Even going as far as sharing a bed, although he relents when she finally complains about it. Some of his behavior gets into a bit of "yikes!!" territory when it comes to his little girl. Especially his use of eczema cream and insisting on applying it to certain areas of her body. She's 11, not 3.

As the narrative progresses he actually becomes rather unkind to her, at one point even calling her a spoiled brat. He belittles the "tween entertainment" she likes, he tries to force his interests onto her, and eventually near the end of the novel she wants to live with her mom and stepfather and no longer visit Paul. That's what you get when you aren't a good father.

The relationship with Mabel made me incredibly sad in general. You know that Paul loves her, but he winds up failing her ultimately.

Hypocritically, he engages in a liberal social media platform getting off on the likes that he receives, while he reviles everyone who uses social media as being some shade of unintelligent.

He takes a liking to a student, Elena, and grossly tries to guess her ethnicity due to her "olive skin" but is perplexed by her last name simply being Martin. Instead of encouraging her to develop her own prose style, he literally line by line works with Elena to rewrite the essay in a style that Paul is partial to. His own style. Narcissist? Yep.

A big mistake is made when he offers to continue to work on the essay with Elena in his car with the seats eased back . Okay Paul; this book is set to come out in 2022, so I imagine it can't be set further back than a few years. Dear lord. Could Paul be any more ignorant as to the culture of the world?

This was one of those minor things that Wayne slips into the novel that comes back to haunt Paul, as he loses his job altogether due to this event. There's a lot of stuff like this that, as I said previously, Wayne is very good at.

The Elena character is pretty intriguing as the novel progresses. Paul goes on a rant about how social media is diminishing true rebellion and all this stuff and Elena is the one to give it back to him: she brings the counterpoint that our connected world allows us to see third world countries, gives a voice to victims of sexual assault, among other points. She then writes an unconventional essay, mimicking his mention of Luther's 95 theses, using memes and single line arguments. Good for Elena.

A third aspect to Paul's character is his revulsion toward the conservative cable news channel (we know it's Fox News) and its anchor Colin Mackey. He's obsessed with Mackey, going far enough to date a woman (Lauren) who works for him. It was mildly ambiguous as to if Paul was surprised that Mackey didn't hold all the views that he presents to his viewers; it sort of seemed that when Lauren revealed this, Paul had a gut instinct that this was true, but was still mildly surprised hearing it out loud.

He develops an obsession with Mackey and uses Lauren as a "way in" so that he can personally debate Mackey.

Toward the novel's conclusion Paul has lost everything. His job is gone. His daughter doesn't want to be around him. His friends have noted something that's utterly apparent to the reader but eludes Paul himself- Paul is all talk and no game. He doesn't do anything. He doesn't donate, he doesn't protest, all he's got is his book that he finally sends to the publisher around the timing of the end.

Now this is the best part.

I was not expecting this book to end the way it did at all. Throughout I saw Paul as a narcissistic loser. At first he had a bit of my sympathy, but it was gone by the time it's shown how he treats others. Yet "loser" and "asshole" and "narcissist" were pretty much all I thought about him.

This is the spoiler part. Paul hatches a scheme and through Lauren slowly unfolds exactly how to get into Mackey's studio while the camera is rolling. I'm not going to go into the details of how he does it, but they are fun, creative, and interesting.

Paul literally holds Mackey at knifepoint on live TV. He goes through a bunch of motions and gets Mackey (and a recorded phone call from the president) to call Mackey's viewers sheep. He's totally crazy and unhinged at this point. He identifies himself as the author of the Luddite Manifesto and believes he has proven himself as finally doing something. In a deranged extension of this excellent twisted ending, he thinks his daughter will finally love and respect him.

Yeah I imagine the Luddite Manifesto sold some copies, but Paul man- you probably ruined your daughter's life. There's a little crime called "assault" or "attempted assault" and when you're caught doing it on camera, well... you might just go to jail. Daddy's a nutjob!

As you can tell I could ramble on about this book and a lot of the themes it raises, but ultimately I simply wanted to give it a glowing review. I strongly recommend this novel to adult fiction fans, perhaps even fans of psychological novels. The twist at the end was superior to the twists in mystery novels I've read of late; indeed, it was almost Chandler-esque in its revelation.

(This review is also posted on Goodreads here's the link: https://www.goodreads.com/review/show/4670513793)

I expect Teddy Wayne novels to make me uncomfortable, but this one also mostly just made me bored. Several years ago, I promised myself I'd stop reading white-male-Brooklyn-author-problems books after The Love Affairs of Nathaniel P perfectly satirized and fulfilled the genre for me, but I decided to make an exception because of the author. Wasn't worth it.

Though Trump is never named, this is a funny book about people driven mad by his presidency. There are jokes about the MAGA types, a Fox News type station. But there's also jokes to be had about how the liberals have been driven mad. Paul, the main character, goes from cynic to full-blown curmudgeon.

I hate to sound like a vapid reader demanding protagonists be "likable", but at times Paul is a tough character to be around. But overall this is a wonderful novel.

Netgalley provided me with a free ARC in return for this review.

It is only the middle of March, but THE GREAT MAN THEORY ( author Teddy Wayne) will absolutely make my “ top ten list”. At times funny, at others achingly sad, it follows the travails of Paul, a liberal living in Brooklyn who is attempting to come to terms with our increasingly technologic age, our discordant politics, the decline in college educational standards, and his own sense of self worth. A five star must read, with a stunning conclusion. READ IT!!!!!!!

This Trump-era satire of a down-on-his-luck, liberal Brooklyn writer will certainly find fans who see a kindred spirit in its pages. Revisiting the Trump years isn’t something I had any interest in doing, however (especially through the eyes of our hapless hero, whose extreme cynicism I found off-putting). Teddy Wayne has always been a five-star read for me—check out THE APARTMENT if you’re not hip to this cat. This time around, I wasn’t feeling it. Maybe it says more about me than the book? I still can’t read fiction set during the Bush years (either Bush).

I don't know how Teddy Wayne does it. He's quickly becoming one of my favorite authors. I bawled like a little baby with his previous novel, "Apartment" - and this time around he made my jaw drop with "The Great Man Theory". I swear the last 10% of this novel made my pulse quicken. Wow. Teddy Wayne is such a wordsmith. His prose is stunning, lyrical, wordy, emotional, and hilarious. He makes me feel so many different things. He truly is a gifted and brilliant writer.

Paul is such an unlikeable character, and yet I couldn't help but feel empathy for him. Probably because he shares a lot of my political views. He's basically a lost soul. Paul is socially awkward, opinionated, and deeply troubled. The thing you will love about him though is his adoration for his preteen daughter, Mabel. Paul feels that Mabel is pulling away from him, and he's also not happy being demoted from his teaching job; and being forced to move in with his politically conservative mother to make ends meet. Paul's life is falling apart. Slowly but surely, Paul begins to crack under the pressure of a world he's longer recognizes. This novel takes place during the Trump administration. All Paul's observations about Trump are so spot-on. Trump supporters will despise this book because the writing is so raw and honest.

What makes this a great novel is that it's memorable. It's so unique. It's smart and emotionally rewarding. The slumber party scene was my favorite. You could really feel Mabel's frustration/pity towards her father. Very relatable. Teddy Wayne is the real deal. His novels always make me think. Highly recommended!

Thank you, Netgalley and Bloomsbury for the digital ARC.

I don’t know if my review can do this book justice – The Great Man Theory deserves…well, greatness. I’ll give it a try anyway.
This is my third read by the author and I would consider myself a fan, but this book was by far the best out of three. Not only that, it was by far one of the best books I’ve read in a while, which considering how many books I plow through, is really something. Granted, I’ve been reading lots of genre fiction lately and the sheer difference of spending time with a proper work of literature was a joy in itself, but it was a joy very specific to this book; a book so clever, so timely, so stunningly well written that it does that unicorn thing that most authors set out to do and few succeed at – it actually puts you, the reader, inside someone’s mind, inside someone’s life.
Meet Paul. A man out of time, a staunchly anachronistic professor of English, a proud Luddite, a sometime writer of essays, a divorced father of a young girl. Paul had recently hit the official middle-age marker and, at 46, doesn’t have much to show for himself, but a semi-comfortable rented existence. And outrage. Like many Brooklyn liberals of a certain age, Paul is potently outraged by the 44th’s administration, appalled at the direction the country has taken, dismayed with its ever-declining values and morals and so on. It isn’t just the politics, it’s also the new generations that Paul valiantly tries to teach, it’s also the new technology that Paul valiantly tries to avoid…but mostly, it’s politics.
And, because Paul is Brooklyn liberal of a certain age, his rage is impotent and muted. He writes about it, but his words don’t travel far. And so, like most rage, it becomes a simmered toxic stew that slowly poisons him.
To exacerbate the situation, Paul’s circumstances are rapidly tumbling down – he gets cut down at work, he has to move in with his mother who turns out to be livelier and more opinionated than he remembered, his daughter is aging out of the adorable kid he knows what to do with into a moody complicated pre-teen.
All of this precipitates Paul’s slow but inextricable tumble down and circumvention of his principles – soon enough, he’s got a smart phone, he becomes an unwilling participate in gig economy to supplement his income, he begins dating for ulterior motives and writing posts online. Paul is spiraling. Soon enough, Paul’s in a freefall.
Let’s pause and consider for a second the sheer courage it must have taken to write a book about a plight of a first world middle-aged white man in this day and age. Bravo, Mr. Wayne. Way to subvert expectations. But seriously, is this one going to be ripped apart much like Paul’s frequent and failed efforts at political correctness and staying hip to the times? One hopes not. And to be fair, Paul isn’t exactly a flawless lead, in fact it is his manifold flaws that make him such and interesting and compelling character.
He isn’t good at life, he admits as much himself. Which, for all his faults, is as relatable of a reveal as a character can make. He tries and tries, tirelessly at times, and it seldom proves good enough. To hold on to one’s morals in an amoral world, to maintain a financial solvency in a society of Mammon devotees (in one of the most expensive cities in the world, no less), to strive for life of meaning, intelligent discourse, values…it’s admirable. It’s also a sure way to live a life steeped in disappointment. And as Paul further and further compromises all he stands for, he reveals sides of himself that are ugly – he’s hypocritical, intolerant, tediously sanctimonious. He doesn’t really see or understand too far outside of himself. He doesn’t authentically relate well to others. He’s passive, all talk, fairly useless. Flaws, flaws, flaws. His trajectory is tragic and the ending is appropriately perfect in reflecting it for this, above all, is a story about a reasonably good man driven mad by the world around him. A man who wasn’t good at life.
(If this world isn't riving you mad, you're not paying enough attention.)
All I love in fiction is here in this book - it’s magnetic, difficult to put down, it’s eloquent, linguistically elegant, a virtuoso rendering of a man who (as much as he is out of time) is very much of his time. Great read. Recommended. Thanks Netgalley.