I am still not sure how I feel about this book... and I think that's the point.

Flesh follows István, a quiet Hungarian teenager whose life takes a sharp and messy turn after a series of encounters that leave a lasting mark. What starts as a deeply uncomfortable relationship with an older woman spirals into decades of drifting through jobs, cities, and relationships, ultimately tracing the strange, quiet journey of a man trying to find footing in a world that never quite lets him belong.

I'll be honest: the writing style was hard to get into. The constant "he said/she said" rhythm grated on me after a while, and the early chapters felt jarring, borderline juvenile at first. But something about István kept me reading. There's a deep emotional distance to him, and yet I couldn't look away. He feels like someone you know but can't quite reach.

This isn't a book with big twists or flashy plotlines. It's a slow, gritty observation of a flawed man navigating life and all that it brings, from loneliness and powerlessness to the long shadow of past trauma. The immigrant experience, masculinity, and moral ambiguity all come into play here. István doesn't always make the right choices, but he's doing the best he can with what he's got. And that humanity comes through on the page, even when it's uncomfortable.

At one point in the book, I hoped he'd make a better choice. Whether he did or not… well, you'll have to read it to find out.

Not an easy read, and not always enjoyable, but definitely thought-provoking. If you like character-driven novels that explore quiet trauma, moral grey areas, and what it means to survive (not succeed), then Flesh might be your kind of book.

Would I recommend it? Yes, if you're patient, and if you like stories that aren't afraid to get messy.

Thank you, NetGalley and Scribner, for providing me with an e-ARC in exchange for my honest review.

I am not quite sure how Szalay has wound up on the Booker list twice, and for what is essentially the same book. Sure, many authors tend to repeat themselves, but this seems almost comically just a slight variation on his previously Booker shortlisted All That Man Is. That one I didn't particularly like either, but this one just increasingly made me antsy to get it all over with.

I came away, not only not at all sure what the author was trying to convey, but even for whom his book is intended. In reading the two reviews linked below, I am now a bit clearer on those - but the reading experience of this book - much like the entirely passive MC and the sparse Hemingwayesque prose style, left me flat and uninvolved. Others have pointed out that it allegedly deals with lasting childhood trauma and/or toxic masculinity - but both are so subtly invoked they hardly register.

A bit different from Szalay's other books I have read but this really worked for me. The main character Istvan is emotionally stunted and inarticulate but this allows him to become a bit of a cipher- many of the major events take place off the page and are devastating when revealed in matter of fact telling. Many other reviews mention that this is primarily about masculinity but I don't necessarily agree- it's just life.

this book is like trying to talk to your friend’s dud boyfriend who you’re meeting at the bar for the first time. it’s a lot of you asking questions that he then repeats because he can’t hear you and then he answers monosyllabically. cue the awkward silence.

and over time, you realize, maybe this guy isn’t a dud. maybe he’s just emotionally stunted because of what he’s been through or how he was raised and socialized. and maybe he makes up for his lack of communication or introspection in other ways, and that’s why your friend likes him. so you keep hanging out with him, in the hopes that he develops some sort of personality as he gets more comfortable and you can start to see what your friend sees.

and in the end, he doesn’t. he does not change, he does not grow. he does not develop a personality or get better at communicating. he remains completely one note the entire time. he is a dud.

and you think to yourself, why did i do this? why did i spend time trying to get to know this person, who clearly does not want to be known by me? and it’s because he’s important to your friend.

but, just because he’s important to your friend, doesn’t mean he has to be important to you. just because your friend likes him, doesn’t mean you have to like him.

so you move on and never think of him again until he’s in front of you at some group gathering, and you quickly find someone else to talk to that can maybe hold a conversation or even, god forbid, show some indication of life behind their eyes.

flesh may be important to the booker prize judges, but it is not important to me. they may like this book, but i sure don’t. i can understand the point it’s trying to make about trauma and male loneliness or how hard it is to be a man or whatever tf else it is trying to sell to me. but it doesn’t mean i have to like it.

thank you to scribner and netgalley for the digital arc of this book. i’m sorry. i don’t hate your boyfriend, but i do think he’s incredibly boring.

3.5/5
I have struggled with how to write this review because I think I'm not the right reader for it. Based on the description, it seemed like something I'd love. However, despite how well-written it is, I just could not connect with and care for the main character. It was like it was just right there, barely out of my grasp, but still unreachable for me.

I put off writing my review because I really don't want to dissuade someone else from giving this book a chance. I think the right reader will love this!

Flesh was a super interesting read. I loved the character study and the writing felt propulsive. I'd read more from the author.

This book was basically like a sad slice of some poor fools life. Istvan never seems to catch a break and even in his moments of bliss he is stoic and sort of noncommitted. This is a fast read, but there is no hope in it. This would be a good book for a discussion group or even in a classroom setting to discuss how life can just steamroll over you and make you question whether you really have control of anything at all.

I've been wanting to read more literary fiction from a male POV and/or male authors, so I thought I'd give this one a go. This one just didn't quite work for me personally but I definitely want to keep seeking more books like this.

Thank you to NetGalley for providing me an ARC of this book for an honest review. All opinions are my own.

I absolutely hated this. It was simultaneously visceral and disturbing while also being quite possibly the most boring book I have ever read. It goes over the story of Istavan's life, and the series of events that take him from Hungary to London and back again. So many horrible things happen to this man and there is a lot of sex in the novel, both of which you would think would keep things exciting, but the way everything was written makes it seem like literally nothing happens at all.

I understand that the writing style (i.e. very passive, tons of dialogue, impersonal) is intended to show that life kind of happens to Istavan and he doesn't take an active role in his life. But goodness, it makes for a quick but utterly mind-numbing read. Ick ick ick.

This book was unexpected. It reminded me of The Stranger by Albert Camus in that it revolved around one man's life from teenage years into manhood and the events that shape his life while he seems almost detached from the events happening around him. It was an interesting reflection of life and really looks at if we are in control of our lives or if things are just happening and we are living them.

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.

Gorgeous, searing, reflective and important. I adored this. A fresh take on a literary fic coming of age.

Imagine being stuck in an out of body experience…forever. For 368 pages, Flesh (David Szalay, Scribner, 2025) shows the reader what it’s like to view life’s most vulnerable and intimate moments through an outsider perspective. Szalay walks the reader through Istvan’s entire life, forcing his audience to sit uncomfortably in the character’s struggle to find his place in the world. From grade school to the military, rags to riches and back to rags, Istvan mirrors those around him but never gets the chance to properly form his own identity. Reading this book was an invitation to live inside Istvan’s mind, the reader will sit in discomfort but also be enticed to come back for more.

Even when Istvan’s circumstances change, he never does. A boy pushed into manhood, full of anger and shame that continues to be fueled by years of unresolved trauma. He continues to run from his struggle, focused on survival rather than living, holding his emotions at an arm's length away. It is heartbreaking to watch as he detaches himself from not only the bad but also the good. For a split second at the end of the book, Szalay makes the reader believe Istvan will finally get a chance to enjoy his life when he becomes a father, something that he never had. He vows to protect his son and provide him with an abundance of joy, and it genuinely seems like a positive plot twist, until the little boy is tragically stripped from Istvan’s life, leaving him alone yet again. A heavy-hearted refugee from beginning to end.

Although this book is written passively, it’s hypnotic and fully immersive, making it impossible to look away. Istvan’s character is uncomfortably real and interestingly enough, he stays the same through the entire book but it works, shedding light on those who are constantly tormented by what is out of their control. This book moves fast, years of Istvan’s life are cut out, but it wouldn’t make sense any other way, the fragmented style emphasizes Istvan’s disconnect from his experiences and the third person narrative is effective in creating an out of body experience for the reader. The small amount of dialogue is fully believable, his monosyllabic responses showcase Istvan’s uncertainty in knowing what he wants and is reminiscent of the change he endures at the beginning of the book due to the abuse he faces. As a reader, I instantly connected to Istvan, hoping that he would find his way to a fuller life, but also knowing that Szalay did the right thing in delivering a devastating and realistic ending.

The gut-wrenching story of a man who was held back by the wounds others inflicted onto him, stuck in a crippling cycle of never belonging. This is the type of book that a reader will remember for years to come, revisiting its pages and reflecting on the heaviness of each line. A tragic tale that deserves to be read by many.

Unfortunately, a let down. I appreciated the book’s framing as an exploration of the mundane decades of a man’s coming of age and adulthood — however, I was left endlessly waiting for some semblance of a deeper observation into his own life. Szalay was certainly on the precipice of many valuable topics — the confines of masculinity and how this avoidance of vulnerability and engagement only worsens without care. And yet the end left the main character no further than where we found him as a teenager — perhaps the point, but I was left wondering what my takeaway was supposed to be after hundreds of pages of simple sequences of events, mundane dialogue, and choices without any reflection.

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)

Szalay offers a portrait of István who we are introduced to as a 15 year old adjusting to a new town in Hungary where he lives a solitary life with his mother. When the novel opens, István’s mother insists that he help a neighbor with her shopping. The woman initiates a relationship with István who is initially ashamed “that he is doing this with someone old and ugly like her.” Eventually, the time he spends with the woman is what gives his “days any sense of purpose or meaning.” When she breaks the relationship off, István goes to her apartment and confronts her husband with horrific consequences.

After he is released from a young offenders’ institution, where he learned that he had an aptitude for fighting and learned how to intimidate people, he has difficulty finding legitimate work, and joins the army, serving in Iraq. A therapist assist him with the PTSD that ensued after the loss of his friend who was killed when an explosive device detonated. Szalay follows István through late middle-age, and we watch him go from being a bouncer at the front door of a club to providing personal protection to “VIPs, celebrities and other high-net worth individuals” and having casual relationships, often with his clients’ wives.

Perhaps because of his early trauma, István seems detached and muted. He does not express emotion nor are we privy to his interior life. He seems to lack agency, responding to most inquiries by replying, “okay” which, as one of his lovers points out, “That’s what you say about everything.” As a homage to his protagonist, Szalay does not employ crackling prose. The writing is hollow, flat and passive. Yet, there was something about István that kept me turning the pages. He is more than simply flesh. Thank you Scribner and Net Galley for an advanced copy of this ambitious novel.

This story wasn't necessarily what I was expecting. It was a well crafted, engrossing story that was simple and still managed to have the complexities of its more detailed competitors. It was a refreshing, introspective book.

This was an interesting read... not something I would normally get my hands on. But thank you to Scribner and Netgalley for giving me an advanced copy for review.

Following the MMC's life, it's heartbreaking to see how detached from it he truly is and how he holds emotions from an arms length. A boy who was pushed into manhood, and actions that led him down a path I wonder would have ever been imagined if certain things did not happen. Weirdly I went from almost DNF'ing due to how the character was written and spoken to not being able to put it down.

It was reflective and heartbreaking and relatable all in one.

This book seems to have a bit of shock value and alot of unlikeable characters. I found myself dislking one more than another and the whole story a bit of a stretch. The beginning, like a bad fellini movie... I wish I could be more positive but I didnt find the story or the material terribly entertaining and was dissapointed given some of the early press I read for the book.

The protagonist, Istvan is such a complex and deeply flawed human, he felt so real to me. Flesh is a good novel, but it didn’t leave a lasting impact on me. Even though I liked the protagonist, I had difficulty with the writing style. The prose was very choppy. I wanted more substance to the writing. Everything felt very stilted and matter of fact. I liked the dark themes of loneliness and longing, but overall, I thought this book was a struggle to get through.