Another Home Land Rave

Sam Lipsyte’s Home Land continues to draw raves:

I’m sorry if I’m the last dork to show up at the party and I’m telling you things you already know. I don’t know Sam Lipsyte at all. I don’t know anybody who knows Sam Lipsyte at all. But on a recent Sunday morning I picked up his novel Home Land, and then I spent the next 12 hours reading it. It’s funny and sad and cruel and awful. It makes David Sedaris seem a little lightweight. It makes David Foster Wallace seem a little out of touch. It makes Rick Moody seem, well, unnecessarily Moody. It makes one laugh out loud while pondering the ways in which all lives, invariably, go wrong.

Read the rest of Benjamin Alsup’s review, which appears in Esquire.