Indigenous American Berserk

Ramblings after two months in Europe

It’s been just over two months since I was last in New York. When people here (mostly in Sweden, but also Italy and England) ask why I’m here, I joke that I’m fleeing fascism. It’s true that there’s fascism – it’s not true that I have to flee it. But I was getting sick of my job working as an artist’s assistant, and my lease was up. So, for now, and hopefully just a little while, I’m doing Stockholm.

There’s a “Roth renaissance” happening in Sweden this summer. I know this because basically all of Swedish culture operates like that saying, “The New York Review of Each Other’s Books.” Somebody writes or posts something, and somebody else – a friend or an enemy (often the same person at different times) – will respond. And suddenly a point of discourse has emerged.

I like the smallness of the Swedish culture scene. I like that discourse emerges in newspapers that engages a whole country. It creates a sense of shared experience that doesn’t really exist in the US.

I find it kind of funny that there’s a Roth resurgence in Sweden (I didn’t even know there was a first wave of enthusiasm to revive). There’s something hilarious about all these waspy Swedes reading and loving Roth. Don’t get me wrong – it’s great. Just funny.

I read all of Sabbath’s Theater when I was 23 on a treadmill at the Jewish community gym on East Broadway, surrounded mostly by elderly Chinese patrons. My preferred reading method involves both a physical copy and the audiobook. I put on my noise-canceling headphones and read with my eyes while listening with my ears at 2x speed.

It’s like watching a movie with subtitles on, except much more engaging, because if you zone out for ten seconds, you miss an entire page. I recognize that this makes me appear dopamine-depraved and illiterate. I did this while speed-walking on a treadmill, opting out of enjoying views of Seward Park, and it was my favorite thing.

This expensive method is even more gratifying in Sweden, which at times feels like a sensory deprivation tank. It helps me engage when it’s too quiet to read. And it does get really quiet.

In Stockholm, you have to generate your own energy. In New York, you’re practically raped with it. I love and miss that.

But it’s also nice to feel so safe for a little while. Here, I’m not worried about things in the same way I was in the US. In the US, things can go absolutely fucking batshit at any moment. Roth called this the “indigenous American berserk” – a native strain of madness that he argues is so deeply ingrained in US culture that it’s practically indigenous to the country.

There’s something titillating about the idea of things constantly being on the brink of insanity, especially for writers.

I’ve been trying to figure out where I fall on the security–freedom scale. I’m anxious and don’t like feeling unsafe. The reason I don’t do drugs is because every time I have, I’ve convinced myself I’m right on the cusp of OD:ing for up to 24 hours after ingesting whatever’s been put in front of me. Fourteen hours will pass and I’ll still be on the lookout for foaming around the mouth.

But I also feel claustrophobic in places that are too put together. I’m extremely lucky and privileged to be in a position where weighing these abstract, incompatible desires is something I can treat as a pastime rather than a necessity.

It’s been good to observe the American berserk from afar for the past two months. But I really am missing New York.

Here’s Roth: “Free at last. Or that’s what I would probably be tempted to think if I were either starting out all over again or dead.”