“Where are the successors to “This Side of Paradise,” “The Sun Also Rises,” “The Catcher in the Rye,” “On the Road,” “Fear and Loathing in Las Vegas,” “Bright Lights, Big City,” “Generation X” and “Infinite Jest”? Time’s Lev Grossman blames our increasingly “multicultural, transcontinental, hyphenated identities and our globalized, displaced, deracinated lives” for why any consensus about a single voice now seems impossible. I’d go even further and argue that the “voice of a generation” novel never existed to begin with. For starters, why did we ever pretend novels by straight white guys about straight white guys spoke for entire generations?
Here’s a link to the full New York Times Book Review article: